The Maple Leafs Don't Need Better Chemistry; They Need Collaborative Efficacy
Hockey people have been talking about "chemistry" for as long as I can remember. We all think we know what it means. Some teams and players have it. Others don't. But I've started to wonder if chemistry is simply the word we use because we don't have a better one.
The concept of collaborative efficacy in hockey and why it matters.
Years ago, when I was doing research on highly effective elementary schools in Alberta, Canada, I spent time reading the work of psychologist Albert Bandura. He introduced the ideas of self-efficacy—the belief that I can do this—and collective efficacy—the shared belief that we can do this. Those ideas have influenced education and human psychology for decades.
But as I watched outstanding schools work, I began thinking there was something more going on. It wasn't just that teachers believed in themselves or even believed in one another. Their interactions created something new. The whole became greater than the sum of its parts. I started calling what I saw collaborative efficacy.
Related: Maple Leafs’ Prospect Problem: Too Many Players, Not Enough NHL minutes.
Now, I find myself believing that the same idea applies to hockey.
Take the Maple Leafs. Auston Matthews is an elite player. William Nylander is an elite player. Sergei Bobrovsky has built a Hall of Fame-calibre career. Nick Paul is exactly the kind of dependable complementary player coaches love.
You can add all of those talents together and conclude the Maple Leafs have a stronger roster. That's important. But it may not be the most important question.
The better question is this: Can these players make each other better?
Does Matthews create space that Nylander recognizes before anyone else? Does Paul retrieve pucks because he already knows where Matthews is going? Do the defencemen activate more confidently because they trust the forwards to cover? Does Bobrovsky's presence encourage everyone in front of him to play a little more aggressively because they trust him to make the save if needed?
If that's happening, the advantage isn't inside the individual players. It's between them.
From where I sit, that's different from chemistry. Chemistry sounds accidental, almost like luck. Two players seem to just play well together. But collaborative efficacy suggests something coaches can intentionally build. Players learn how teammates think. They anticipate one another. Communication improves. Decisions become quicker because trust replaces hesitation.
Watching the Maple Leafs, I’ve come to learn what makes teams speedy.
I've written before that speed isn't just about skating. It's about thinking. Maybe this explains why. Five players who think together often look faster than five players who simply skate well.
It also changes how we judge roster moves. Instead of asking whether Nick Paul is better than another third-line center, perhaps the better question should be whether he makes everyone around him more effective. The same could be said for a veteran goaltender, a stay-at-home defenceman, or even a checking winger.
Hockey analytics measure individual players’ impact well.
Hockey analytics do a remarkable job measuring individuals. Goals Above Replacement (GAR), Wins Above Replacement (WAR), and expected goals (xG) all tell us something valuable. But then it seems that the most we do is play the guys with the positive numbers more than the guys with the negative numbers.
But too often, we still struggle to measure the things that happen between players — the trust, anticipation, and shared understanding that can make a group better than its individual parts. But if these qualities exist in the relationships between players, can they be taught? [As a teacher, I believe they can.]
Maybe that's what we've been calling chemistry all these years. I wonder if it's something much more powerful than that.