Hockey's Transformers: Simon Mason, Part I
The three-time Olympian talks about his career, the power of communication and the art of falling the right way.
He will tell you that his success is down to being 6’6” so lots of things hit him and he fell the right way on multiple occasions. But Simon Mason is GB Hockey’s most capped goalkeeper and is widely recognised as one of one of the sport’s best goalkeepers of all time. Underneath his modesty is a man with an extraordinary passion and talent for the game. He went to three Olympic Games, three World Cups, three European Cups and two Commonwealth Games before becoming one of the best-known voices of and for the game. In the first of a two-part series, he spoke to us about the moments that defined his playing career, the power of communication and what led him to the commentary box.
How did your hockey career start?
The start of my hockey career was a combination of luck, circumstance and failure! I moved schools when I was 12 and the headmaster of that school was a guy called John Law who pulled me from football into the hockey team. He put me on the right wing, and I was truly awful. Think drunk baby giraffe on ice. That will give you an idea of the athleticism on show.
Was goalkeeping always the goal?
John’s story is that it was coaching genius that saw the potential, but what I heard was; ‘You are useless, you need to go in goal.’
Whatever version of events you believe. I ended up between the sticks and was lucky to be mentored by someone who, at one point, had goalkeepers in the England U16, U18, U21 and Senior squads. I attribute my goalkeeping success to him. Within 13 months I was playing for the England side and went all the way up the national team age groups, breaking into the seniors while I was at university.
Moving into goalkeeping wasn’t a ‘lightbulb’ moment for me, but I believe that if you are in a supportive environment where you’re naturally doing quite well at something, it almost becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Being in a team is a healthy place to exist.
“You’ve got to that point, you have your best mates around you and there’s this huge wave of emotion and realisation that you’ve made it somewhere special. Becoming an Olympian is an amazing thing.”
What was your favourite moment on the pitch?
I have two. From a playing perspective, it was when we won the European Club Championships in 2003 with Reading. We had an incredible group of players, it was part of a 5-year project led by John Copp as coach, Jon Wyatt as captain and it was their vision which was then shared by a group of players who pulled together, took on Europe’s best and won after multiple years of trying. That was the performance moment that meant everything.
The other moment that I got to experience as a player, is the thrill that is an Olympic Opening Ceremony. I had the privilege of going to three and I have this particularly clear memory in Sydney of walking over the crest of the stadium and seeing 110,000 people. It felt like every single person was looking at you. Even now it makes me emotional. You’ve got to that point, you have your best mates around you and there’s this huge wave of emotion and realisation that you’ve made it somewhere special. Becoming an Olympian is an amazing thing. I didn’t experience a medal but that was my off-field moment of ‘This. Is. It.’
What were your toughest moments between the sticks?
The Athens Games were horrific. The Athens cycle came off the back of the victorious 2003 European Championships where I received goalkeeper of the tournament. I genuinely thought we’d medal because I honestly thought I’d save everything and we’d score goals. After three games we were out. I sat on the end of the bed and cried. I was done. That was it. Dream over. Finished. And we still had to play four more games knowing our medal hopes were dashed.
How did you pick yourself up after Athens?
I retired from international hockey after Athens, but I was still very lucky to be part of Reading HC which has had, singularly, the most positive impact on my life. I went back and played with a group of players who gave me everything and I gave them everything. And it was fun. We won stuff. It was exciting. We played mind-bendingly amazing hockey with some incredible people. Stepping away from international hockey was disappointing but Reading picked me up.
How did you go from a player to a voice for the game?
My former GB teammate and fellow goalkeeper David Luckes, who was the first full-time employee of London2012, asked me to speak at a conference aimed at leaders within all the summer sports. He is the most intelligent man I have ever played or worked with and a phenomenal athlete. So, I forgave him for giving me half a day’s notice and no brief as I walked blindly onto that stage. I was the last of three speakers. My opening gambit, as the voice for the athlete experience, was to tell them both they had missed the point. As athletes we would give limbs to compete in the Olympics. It was everything.
Luckily, I wasn’t fired but invited onto the LOGOC Athletes’ Committee through to 2012 and then took on the England Hockey Presidency. That put me in India in 2010 for the World Cup where I was invited into the commentary booth. I covered two or three games and loved it. I’ve since commentated on every level of hockey including 4 Olympic Hockey finals.
What did you take from the pitch to the commentary box?
I learnt the skill of communication on the pitch, which is particularly challenging when you’re trying to communicate a thought clearly through a goalkeeping helmet. As a player, we worked out that during an average game, I was making 77 specific comments every half – that’s an observation every 30 seconds. I believe that was my greatest hockey skill.
I don’t believe I was the best athlete. I don’t believe I had the fastest reactions. I am physically big so I can get in the way, but I believe my biggest talent was my ability to work with the defensive team and put people in the right place. The playing experience as a goalkeeper trained my brain to work differently and enabled me to use my voice in a specific way. I learnt to put a thought in front of people; to see something, analyse it and then explain what it means. This translated neatly into commentary which is essentially adding value to pictures. But there was zero formal training!