Copyright newsroom
Every day for two tortuous months, Dame Noeline Taurua trudged a well-worn path through the sand of Pukehina Beach, outside her home in the Bay of Plenty. Sometimes she cried, grappling with how she’d found herself in this “horrific ordeal”, trying to understand why she’d been stood down as head coach of the Silver Ferns. Feeling as if she was in mourning. A spiritual person, she felt her late parents walking alongside her – tapping into her mother Polly’s “quiet strength” and her father Kingi’s forthright determination. Although she felt isolated at times, she drew on the outpouring of love and support from old friends and team-mates, those who’d played under her leadership, colleagues and the wider netball community. Knowing she had “the majority” of her players supporting her. That kept her going. Taurua also reflected on all the work she’d done over the past two years – not just on her personal development, but on increasing the player voice within the Silver Ferns. Work she’d never got to implement before she was put on ice. She wondered why her coaching style had been deemed “old school” – when, as an avid learner, she thrives on being innovative. Every day followed the same rhythm: sleep, eat, walk, legal. She worked with leading law firm Minter Ellison in drawn-out negotiations with Netball New Zealand so she could be reinstated. She was in survival mode; fighting for not only her career and reputation, but also for the Silver Ferns legacy. But there was one thing Taurua couldn’t bring herself to do during those two months. She couldn’t watch her beloved Silver Ferns play. “I didn’t watch the three tests in the Taini Jamison, or the first two games of the Constellation Cup,” Taurua says. “It was too raw. It was just too much emotion for me – I couldn’t do it. I didn’t have enough in me to watch it at that time. “Just so you know, I will go back and watch them now that I’ve been reinstated.” But she tuned in for the third and fourth tests, to see the Silver Ferns snatch two victories from the world champion Australians (then lose the new extra-quarter decider for the trophy). “I was so proud, really excited about what they were able to put out there. And what’s ahead of us,” she says. What lies ahead is next year’s Commonwealth Games, and the 2027 Netball World Cup. Yes, Taurua would have loved to fly out with the Silver Ferns tomorrow to their whirlwind northern tour – five tests in quick succession against Scotland and England, mirroring the Games schedule. Instead, she must wait until next year to reconnect with her team. Taurua says she feels vindicated – after Netball New Zealand’s process found nothing that called her integrity into question – but there is still a long way to go. She’s yet to agree to any changes to her management team or in the environment, that Netball New Zealand have asked her to make. She insists she still doesn’t know the reasons behind being stood down in the first place, or why a group of players took their concerns to the national players association earlier this year. Speaking out today for the first time since her career was put on hold, Taurua was feeling the “anticipation and anxiousness” of a game day. But that enthusiasm and excitement have been missing from her life for the past two months. Her whānau – husband, Ed Goldsmith, five children, and four grandchildren – have also struggled through this saga. “With everything so public, they ride the emotions, but I feel they get it tenfold. Mainly because they’re trying to navigate it all with some details they’re not privy to,” she says. “They get angry, very protective, and they just want to wrap you in love. “But they were so amazed by the support I received – not only from our beautiful netball community, but also the general public. That helped them to keep going, knowing we weren’t alone.” Taurua had read up on other coaches in New Zealand sport who’d come under similar pressure after athletes voiced their concerns which led to reviews. Like Black Sticks coach Mark Hager, who resigned in 2019 to coach Great Britain. “I can understand why coaches leave and how stressful it is, not only for them, but also their families,” she says. Yes, she considered doing the same, every day. “What I learned along the way – I laugh about these things, but they’re not even funny – is you sort of go through a mourning process. It’s horrific. The ups and the downs, the uncertainty,” she says. “That’s why my relationships became so important. I had people ringing me or sending me texts every day to make sure I was all right. It provided me with strength, knowing I wasn’t alone.” Reconnecting with people she’s come to know through her 40 years in netball has been one of the “beautiful moments” from this experience, she says. People like her old shooting partner from her PIC and Wellington netball days, former MP Meka Whaitiri – who has been a vocal supporter throughout the saga. “Woman power, man!” Taurua laughs. “Meka and I go way back. That’s the strength of people – when you do right by people, then people do right by you.” The public support from Māori was also overwhelming – the likes of Annette Sykes and Willie Jackson among them. “That’s the association with my dad,” she says. Kingi Taurua was a highly respected Ngāpuhi leader, an acclaimed orator, broadcaster and Māori advisor to the government. He passed away in 2018, just before Taurua was appointed as Silver Ferns coach – never getting to see his daughter lead New Zealand to victory at the 2019 Netball World Cup. “That’s what relationships are about, your whakapapa, and upholding the mana of your people,” she says. “And they will start talking out if they feel that’s been tarnished.” While her father may have approached a situation like this differently, Taurua still called on his values. “My dad is a very different person to me. I’d like to think I’m, well, patient, and he’s very forthright,” she says with a laugh. “But those values I’ve been brought up with, I hold onto strongly. “My mother is actually the strongest – not necessarily in voice, but strong in presence, in actions, in integrity and in family. “But my dad was always strong about standing in your own truth. Knowing at times, you’re going against the system, or people, but you can only say your truth and work through whatever process may come thereafter. “He was also strong on if you don’t have the majority of people with you, you walk… you go. It’s always about what’s bigger than you.” While the identity of the complainants remains protected, Taurua believes she has the backing of most of the Silver Ferns squad. “Yes, 100 percent. And that was from day one. If I didn’t feel I had enough support from within, I would have gone – because that would have been the right time,” she says. “And if I go back and I feel I don’t have the support of the majority, I will go. But I don’t worry about that for me, because it’s about the silver fern, it’s the brand, it’s the legacy of our game that’s really important.” She received “beautiful messages” from people within the Silver Ferns environment, checking in on her wellbeing. “It was what I needed to know to keep going. Otherwise I would have just stayed home with the grandchildren,” she says. Taurua has confidence in the management group she’s built around her in the past seven years: “Because they’re the best in New Zealand at delivering in their expert areas and they provide the foundation for our programme,” she says. People like assistant coach Deb Fuller who’s worked with coaches and clubs around the country on player skillsets, and physio Sharon Kearney’s world-leading work with female athletes. “I work with some amazing people who are dedicated to the health and wellbeing of athletes – and female health is their expertise,” Taurua says. “And there are a lot of other opportunities outside the Silver Ferns that are available to players. So that poses a question as to why – and I’ll take this on the chin – we couldn’t have got to the space of actually communicating [the player concerns]? “It also poses a question of possible gaps in our current process, that needs to be very clear and transparent for everybody. The most difficult thing when you work in a high performance environment is meeting the need of the individual. As a coach, I meet the need of the team, the collective. We have our sports psych, our medical, our physio who deal with the individuals on the health and wellbeing space. “To be able to take us forward, to improve and perform, I rely hugely on the individuals I work with to manage the other spaces, and I believe they do that very, very well.” Taurua has always prided herself on understanding her players and encouraging them to voice their opinions, issues and concerns. “My 101 is with people,” she says. “I will always 100 percent listen to my players.” She’s big on personal development, on staying innovative in coaching. “And changing things up to get that one percent increase or improvement,” she says. For the past two years, she’s worked with Basketball New Zealand and their U17 programme to “learn how to work with the younger generation”, and studied the coaches of their men’s and women’s high performance programmes. “I went to Europe to observe the top European club coaches, to find a way to adapt basketball strategies into netball and how they work their skillsets.” This year her work took her to Australia, to study the Sydney Swans women’s and men’s AFL teams and some NRL clubs. Her goal was to build a leadership model for the Silver Ferns: “Tying in te ao Māori principles, but also seeing how I could increase the player voice… around how we can be better in planning operations when we get together in camp or on tours. How they wanted our environment to be run. “That’s where I was heading with this leadership model, ensuring there was increased player voice in what I needed to do. But I just never had the opportunity to actually deliver and execute in that space.” When she was first stood down, it was alleged the concerns were around Taurua’s “old school” coaching methods. “I am old,” the 57-year-old says. “But one of my big things is around improvement. You can’t be an old school coach, because you can’t rest on your laurels. “You’ve got to evolve with the generation you work with. You’ve always got to up-skill and that’s what I love. I’m an avid learner, I’m a people person.” Taurua now feels strongly about ensuring other coaches – not only in netball – are well supported and know their rights. “One of the things I’ve learned through my experience is that sport is not bigger than the law,” she says. “In law, there are clear processes, whether it’s resolution or employment, for the protection of everybody within that environment – for the athlete, the staff or the coach. “From my experience, and what I’ve read on other coaches, to some degree sports feel they are bigger than the law, and there’s no clear process for anybody to go through and know that you’ll be supported. “I will always echo this for anyone going through an experience like this – make sure their mana stays intact, and you protect them, you look after them. You listen to them and you talk with them. There are legal processes to go through, and we need to start using those things.”
