In Memory of FRITZ:
Thank you
By Bob Fletcher, St. Mark’s soccer goalie 1967-1969
Shared with kind permission from Bob Fletcher ’70, at the request of the Wiedergott Family.
Fritz's Unsung Behind-the-Scenes Coaching Genius Behind the Rapid Education of
a Shy Intimidated Young Goalkeeper, and Behind Certain Penalty Kick Secrets key
to St. Mark’s Soccer becoming the first in the league's 30 year history to "Retire" the
Gummere Cup by winning 3 consecutive titles.
I remember vividly the1969 Gummere Cup deciding penalty "shot" taken by Milton with 2 minutes
to go in a 0-0 game at season's end. A save most likely would win and "retire" the cup for SM. All
Milton had to do to wrest the cup from us was to score on the "easy" penalty kick and prevent a
goal for the last two minutes. What the crowd and players saw as my psyching out the Milton penalty kicker
was but the iceberg's tip of necessarily private mental training and coaching by Fritz Wiedergott – Peerless Coach…
It's a story that should be told because it illustrates many hidden facets of Fritz's coaching brilliance.
And it finally gives Fritz the credit he deserved for quietly and pervasively shaping me behind the scenes
into the best goalie and later the best of the man I am. Only Fritz knew how many athletes he challenged,
nurtured and molded in similar, discreet ways
without anyone knowing, and without ever taking credit. Fritz was
a better coach than all my other coaches combined, including four college freshman and varsity team coaches.
Early in 4th form in 1967, I was called up from JV as an injury replacement for the goalie/captain. I
had but 3 JV games under my belt and felt far beyond my depth. Fritz immediately began daily
calling me into his office for an unforgettable, primal, series of private "lessons". I felt so
intimidated and in awe of him. Surprisingly, for quite a while these sessions had nothing to do with
how to play goalie: rather, they were all about how to BE the goalie – the mental game.
First Lesson: Assertiveness - Taking Charge: I was a shy, self-conscious, defended, prideful, inhibited,
boy with serious performance anxiety. (I actually fainted that year while trying to recite my poem in
front of my classmates in 4th form English).
Fritz challenged me to play-act the requisite goalie's assertive personna in his office in the empty
field house. I balked, and he pushed harder and harder until I burst into tears. He pushed even
more until, filled with shame and rage I started screaming angrily at him while my tears flowed. I
literally wanted to physically attack him in my rage. He jumped up from his desk, animatedly pointing at
me and exclaimed "There!!! Bobby, you're doing it! This is something I need from you if we are to
win the Gummere Cup this year: if you can be bold enough to yell and swear at your Athletic
Director, Math Teacher, and Head Coach - then you have inside what it takes to command your
three intimidating 6th form fullbacks [a rowdy, headstrong troublemaker, a Monitor, and the all-
powerful Head Monitor] and I will help you bring this out, and much more."
The first test came almost immediately and as a huge shock: exiting a school phone booth I almost
bumped into an older, arrogant teammate's back as he exclaimed to a group: "That Bob Fletcher, I
have no confidence in him!" But for Fritz's lessons, I would have skulked away, feeling humiliated and
ashamed; instead, I stepped boldly in front of him and coolly stared him down - he was the one who
skulked away, tail between his legs. His words went to good use: they lit a raging fire in me which
season-long fueled my will to master Fritz's lessons.
I was terrified that off and on the field my older fullbacks would haze me for being such a
presumptuous, bossy, little 4th former. (It never occurred to my naive mind that they wouldn't dare
to.) Fritz must have talked to them privately, because they were very responsive to me for the most
part. One did require some challenge, and ultimately a very public, angry tongue-lashing from Fritz.
After a while it became fun. Sometimes during a lull in the action I'd be thinking: "Far Out! I just
told the Head Monitor where to go!"
In 6th Form we were undefeated in mid-season, when we encountered a hardscrabble, physical,
dirty team – the dirtiest. The refs weren't calling obvious, dangerous fouls, they had scored first and
our team was on its heels. There was a high ball right in front of our goal. Their best and dirtiest
player and I went up for it, me to punch the ball two-fisted, but I decided to level the playing field:
one fist punched the ball away and the other "strayed" hitting him solidly, square on the jaw.
Upended, he landed sideways and lay squirming in the dust at the penalty mark. The refs didn't call
a penalty. Our re-energized team steam-rolled them the rest of the game. I was a very peaceful
student at SM: but for Fritz's lessons on assertion and taking charge, I could not have done what
was necessary.
We had many other such sessions, very slowly becoming less drama-filled, revolving around
learning other requisite goalie virtues.
Second Lesson: Arrogance and Invincibility: Fritz shocked me with the vital realization that my most
important objective was to psych, intimidate, and hypnotize my teammates into believing that I
could not be scored on! He told me that once this was accomplished, then psyching out our
opponents would be easy and fun. He cultivated this cocky attitude in each team segment and
player, even fans. Indeed, he was proved right. There ultimately came to be a helpful team, school,
fan, and frequently opponent expectation of "NO Goals Against Us (and Many Goals Against
Them.")
Fritz explained our work needed to be kept secret because it was easier to "hypnotize" the team if
they didn't know what was happening. During practices he very rarely coached me – I felt truly
neglected at times! Later I realized this was his part of the project: his ignoring me on the field,
both
during practice and in games, bespoke his leap-of-faith "absolute confidence" in me far more
eloquently than speeches.
An example of psyching other teams: I learned to juggle the soccer ball pretty well (at soccer camp,
another of Fritz's "edges") the summer before 5th form. Fritz then directed me to juggle in the
center of the field before every game so our opponents would see me showing off in my goalie
stripes. This show would get into their heads - they'd be thinking: "Man, this guy's got to be an
awesome goalie if they're willing to let those ball skills go to waste!" Other jugglers, far better than
me also showed off their skills before each game. Fritz worked in private and public with all team
members as needed
.
Third Lesson: Controlling My Emotions. All this was no picnic for Fritz or me. I was not used to this
kind of mentoring, much less Fritz's sometimes very challenging "in-your-face" style. Several times I
found myself in his office, screaming at him in total rage again with tears streaming down my face,
and wanting to attack him physically. He knew he had to push some buttons in a hurry for me to
become an effective enough goalie quickly enough to salvage a shot at winning the Gummere Cup.
He used skillfully provoked outbursts, both to help me vent some very pent-up emotions, and to
teach the importance of keeping my cool in front of the team no matter what.
These are just a few examples of many other such behind-the-scenes encounters, which became
increasingly interspersed with the "hows" of goaltending, and, finally, focused on the keeper's
ultimate challenge....
Penalty Kicks:
The cherry on top
There are a treasure trove of untold stories about Fritz's absolute command of the seemingly
impossible: the Zen of defending penalty kicks, where 10% goalie success was about average in high
school soccer. In essence, it’s all about amassing as many psychological and physical "edges" for
oneself while crushing as many of the kicker's as possible, by staking a claim to his brain.
Fritz never allowed the team to witness me practicing defending penalty kicks - in service of
preserving the team's image of my "perfection." The only time he let me practice penalty kicks was
when I was completely alone with classmates Ricky Caldwell and Peter Heimann, both extremely
gifted strikers. The Truth? The only perfection during those sessions was theirs - I stopped 2 of 500
shots and 1 missed the net. But they stayed well-prepared, and I became a much better diver and
relaxed about penalty kicks.
While the Milton goalie (also their best field player) trotted down the field to make the Cup-
deciding penalty kick, Fritz turned ultra-confidently toward the bench and fans, saying loudly with
that oh-so-pretty, cocky smile of his: "I bet you a nickel Bob saves it!" Likely their goalie/shooter
was a bit thrown by this unexpected, excited stir and levity amongst the visiting St. Markers in this
grave moment.
I welcomed the extra time, during which I rehearsed my battle plan and dreamed up a new, fun
tactic or two...
When the goalie/shooter arrived, I unleashed Fritz's barrage of psychological warfare on him. First
"smiling" at him, as Fullback Bruce Morgan put it in that diplomatic style we've come to love. When
pressed to describe my "smile" in more detail, Bruce hemmed a bit before breaking down and
exclaiming: "OK, it was more like Jack Nicholson's "smile" in The Shining," unmistakably referring
to that iconic scene where the crazed Nicholson hacks thru a door with an axe and, as his face
looms in the hole, leering and maniacal, he taunts in truly scary fashion: "Heeeeerrrrre's Johnnnny!!"
Next, I walked off my line toward him, invading his space, while staring him down - Alpha stuff.
Fritz taught me to own the situation in every way imaginable. To slow its tempo, freezing the kicker
by staying off my line, giving the kicker way too much time to think about his having everything to
lose (after all, he was supposed to score 90% of the time). Conversely, not only did I have nothing
to lose, I acted from the Fritz-trained certainty the score would be the same after the shot.
Under the guise of exhorting the team to rush in quickly to control any rebounds, I loudly reminded
our team that I'd never been scored on in 6 penalty kicks. (This shocking, virtually inconceivable
fact was a tactical, bald-faced lie!!!) It surely rented more space in the Milton shooter/ goalie's
already reeling brain.
Finally, just after stepping onto my line came my favorite Fritz instruction: reaching into my shorts
and blatantly scratching myself while staring arrogantly at the poor shooter! More Pure Alpha Male
stuff.
Barraged by the product of Fritz's 3 year-long mental and physical tutelage, the Milton shooter
didn't stand a chance: his kick hit several inches behind the ball, sending a spray of dirt and pebbles,
the ball itself slowly bounced three times straight to the goalie, who caught it easily without taking a
step. Two minutes later, St Mark's Soccer "retired" the Gummere Cup, ours for the third straight
year, the first time in the League's 30 year history. Fritz Wiedergott's masterful coaching on and off
the field was the Sine Qua Non.
Bob Fletcher ’70
9843 SW Dapplegrey Loop
Beaverton, OR 97008-6729
Email: bfle[email protected]
Phone: (650) 380-5910
