Chris Beard - 4:1 and a 2x4

When Chris Beard was coaching at Texas Tech he used to repeat a quote from Bobby Knight to his team. "The mental is to the physical as 4 is to 1." It became a big part of the mentality of his program, with "4:1" signs popping up, and some fans even getting tattoos.

He also used to carry a 2x4 piece of wood with him on every road trip. His point was that if he put that 2x4 down on the ground and asked a player to walk over it, they would have no problem doing it. But if he took the same 2x4 and brought it to to the top level of the arena and laid it across two beams at the top of the building, it would be much harder for anyone to walk across it. Even though it was the same 2x4 and the same ask, to simply walk across it. Nothing had changed, except the environment around you and the 2x4.

It's a great way to illustrate the challenge of playing on the road. Nothing is different, expect the environment around you. Are you going to let that affect the way you play?

https://www.everythinglubbock.com/sports/red-raider-nation/4-to-1-the-driving-force-behind-texas-tech-basketball/

Scrum Buckets

Alex Cruz was a 6-3 wing forward who played for me at Rhode Island College. He was one of those guys who didn't really have a natural position. He wasn't a great shooter or a gifted ball-handler. He wasn't a post player and didn't have great size or strength. He didn't really have any plus skills. He had a great feel for the game, great instincts and really knew how to play. He was a definitive "good things happen when he's in the game" player. We were just better when he was on the floor.

It wasn't that he was just a glue guy who did the little things. He produced. He scored, he rebounded and he made plays for others. When you looked at the box score after the game he'd have 5 points, 4 rebounds and 2 assists in 14 minutes. You just didn't quite know how he did it. He was also a terrific defender who could guard just about every position. He was a talented basketball player.

The problem with Alex Cruz - well, it was actually a problem with me more than with Alex Cruz - was that he was hard to define. He was a guy who got and created scrum buckets. He'd find his way into an offensive rebound and a put back. He'd get a deflection defensively that would lead to an easy basket. He'd get into the teeth of the defense and find an open teammate for a 3. We used to joke that he'd go out on the floor and start "bumping into stuff" and good things would happen. We considered him a part of our checking line.

I had to learn how to coach players like Alex Cruz. Because he was hard to define, I wasn't really sure how to use him. It wasn't just that he didn't have a natural position. He didn't have a natural position or a specific skill or type of game. He just played. And he produced. But it was hard to insert him into your game plan and say "here's how we are going to use him to beat Keene State." He wasn't a guy you ran plays for. He wasn't a guy you stuck in the corner to space out your offense and drill an open 3. I learned, after time, that he was a guy you could just stick in the middle of your zone offense and use him as a creator when he had some space. But that took a while. As good as he was, it was hard to see how he was specifically going to help us win a game going into it.

Most players are easy to define, and that makes it easier for us as coaches. They can really shoot it, or they are a point guard, or a post player. They are quick, great ball-handlers, or big bangers. We know what to expect and how to deploy them. But this also makes it easy for us to put them in a box. We have a definition for who they are and what they do, and when we need that we go to them. We as coaches can limit our ability to get the most out of our players by defining them to specifically.

We also have to learn how to coach the scrum bucket guys. They guys who don't have that defined skill that is above average in any one area, and don't blow you away in an individual workout. They are guys that you can't really call plays for or put in a specific spot to get you a bucket. But they are going to produce and help your team win. And when you look at the box score at the end of the game, you'll see what you want to see. You just might not be able to explain how it all got there.

It's Hard To Guard Unselfish

This is a great example of a time and score truth that I steadfastly believe in - if the guy who starts with the ball in a late clock situation isn't the guy who shoots it, you will get a better look. Unselfish is very hard to guard, especially in late clock situations when everyone is so attracted to the ball.

Al Durham shows great composure and unselfishness, and Jared Bynum gets a clean look to win the game.

You can never practice time and score enough. Teaching your players to understand the clock and to be unselfish in these situations can get you better looks.

https://twitter.com/PCFriarsmbb/status/1486513252024659968?s=20&t=ijxShl57ZocxUcbDUqQV1Q

"Help Them Help Themselves"

"No matter what level, front runners have a shelf life. There is going to be adversity. I don’t think any coach solves the problem by himself. He is not going to take a mentally weak player or team and strengthen them. Rather, he has to help them help themselves. They have to be active participants in their own rescue. Great players want to be helped, they want to be coached, they want to be corrected. YOU have to help them in those critical areas to have more poise and more resolve"

- Jeff Van Gundy

Leadership Truths

• It's a skill that can be taught and developed.
• We can't ask for it if we don't define it.
• It's not about you, it's about them.
• Effective leaders ask a lot of questions.
• Leadership is behavior, not words on a shooting shirt.
• If you don't model it, don't expect it.
• Empowering your team to lead from the middle is powerful.
• Experience can help, but being older doesn't make you a leader.
• If they don't get it, it's on you.
• Listening is an essential skill for great leaders.
• Great leaders develop leaders, not followers.
• Three things genuinely motivate your team - autonomy, mastery and purpose
• There isn't one model that works - your approach must fit your personality.
• Your culture isn't what your veterans say, it's what your rookies do.
• Leaders are grounded in perspective.
• Everyone on your team can lead if you define it the right way.
• If they aren't talking enough, you are probably talking too much.
• The biggest mistake you can make is to say one thing and do another.
• The medium is the message - your tone speaks really loud.
• The less you talk, the more your leadership approach is working.
• They won't believe in what you do if they don't believe in who you are.
• The traditional leadership model - a few leading many - isn't the most effective way.
• Platitudes and catch phrases don't equal leadership.
• What you do is so loud, sometimes they can't hear what you say.
• Calm is a superpower for effective leaders.
• When in doubt, do nothing.
• Expecting more leadership out of certain people means you expect less out of others.
• Leaders are fans - they openly appreciate the right approach.
• Leaders are genuinely curious about others.
• A lack of authenticity is the quickest way to lose them.
• It's not yours, it's theirs.

Which Team Would You Rather Coach?

Which team would you rather coach?

One team is really talented, probably the most talented team in the league. They are deep, with good players at every position. But they aren't very tough mentally. They don't have the right approach, don't necessarily bring it every day, and they aren't very mature. They have enough talent to beat every team on their schedule, but they lose some games they should never lose because of their approach.

The other team isn't as talented, but has a much better approach. They are tough as nails, they bring it every day and they are mentally connected. They play hard all of the time. They just aren't that skilled. They struggle to shoot and have a hard time scoring enough points to win. But they guard every night, and their approach to practice is great.

Which team would you rather coach? Or maybe a better question is which team would you rather play against?

My last team at RIC, in 2013-14, was very talented, probably the most talented team in the league. We were better than every team in the league on paper. But we were immature. The mentality of that team drove me crazy. We had good players, and really good kids. It wasn't like we had any problems or bad chemistry. We just relied too much on our talent. We knew we were better than the teams we were playing, and we didn't really work that hard. We didn't practice well. We were inconsistent. We definitely lost some games we never should have lost.

The year before, my second to last year at RIC (2012-13), we were the opposite. We had a veteran team that no question had a lot of talent, but we didn't have the skill or playmakers we were used to at RIC. We were tough as nails, though, mentally and physically. We brought it every day and our practices were wars. We made each other better. We had 11 or 12 kids every night we could count on. You might beat us, but you were going to have to kill us.

Which team would you rather coach? The extremely talented team that isn't that tough, that doesn't bring it every day? Or the extremely tough team that doesn't have as much talent, but gets after it every single day?

I guess the question really comes down to which team you think you can have a bigger impact on. My guess is most coaches would take the talent. We all feel like if you give us enough talent, we'll find a way to make it work. Talent is the stuff you can't teach. Give us the long, athletic players who can run the floor and play above the rim, and we can teach them how to play. We'll show them the right habits and get them to bring it every day. This team has a high ceiling, and we have confidence in our ability to coach them to it.

The tough, mature that team that isn't as skilled or talented is probably harder to win big with. We love the fact that they bring it every day, but there is only so far we can take them. It's hard to throw your team's maturity out there on the floor and win on the road. You need players. You need playmakers. Somebody who can create baskets when you need them. We look at that team that is all toughness and heart and love coaching them, but they have a lower ceiling.

I'm not sure we look at these types of teams - or these types of players - the right way. I've been there and coached both of these teams. I know what it feels like. It's really annoying to coach the talented team that doesn't get it, but it's easy to feel like you are going to get them there. There is a comfort level knowing you are good. Coaching the tough team that isn't as skilled is more rewarding every day, but you always feel like you aren't going to be good enough. There's only so much you can do.

We always want to coach as much talent as we can. We'll take the high level athlete who doesn't necessarily know how to play, because we think we can coach him. But the kid who's tough as nails but not as skilled, we always tend to question if he's good enough at first glance. Toughness is hard to teach, and hard to beat. But for some reason we don't always appreciate it.

My last team at RIC - 2013-14 - the one that was talented but not very tough, frustrated me all year. But we turned it on late in the year and won the Little East Tournament, making it back to the NCAA Tournament for the 8th straight year. We lost in the first round of the NCAA Tournament and finished 23-7.

My 2012-13 team - the one that was more tough than talented - went 26-4 and won the Little East Regular Season and Tournament Championships. We won our first game in the NCAA Tournament before getting upset in the second round.

Both teams ended up in essentially the same place. But I'm pretty sure the 2012-13 team would have beaten the 2013-14 team 8 out of 10 times. I know which team I'd rather coach in that game.

I know how important talent is, and you have to have it to win. Talent makes you comfortable. Winning games with grit and toughness isn't comfortable, because it's hard to game plan for your checking line. It isn't that comfortable going into a game trying to out tough people. You'd rather have playmakers. But that tough team that brings it every day is usually going to figure it out. Find a way to appreciate the toughness and make sure they know how valuable it is. Toughness will translate to long-term success if you cultivate it.

I know which team I'd rather coach. And I know which team I'd rather play against.

Competition - Phil Knight

From his book "Shoe Dog."

I thought back on my running career at Oregon. I'd competed with, and against, men far better, faster, more physically gifted. Many were future Olympians. And yet I'd trained myself to forget this unhappy fact. People reflexively assume that competition is always a good thing, that it always brings out the best in people, but that's only true of people who can forget the competition. The art of computing, I'd learn from track, is the art of forgetting, and I now reminded myself of that fact. You must forget your limits. You must forget your doubts, your pain, your past. You must forget that internal voice screaming, begging, "Not one more step!" And when it's not possible to forget, you must negotiate with it. I thought over all the races in which my mind wanted one thing, and my body wanted another, those laps in which I had to tell my body, "Yes, you raise some excellent points, but let's keep going anyway..."

Frustration

I've always felt that frustration is just a useless emotion. It's an emotion we see a lot on teams, yet it doesn't do us any good. It makes us worse. Getting upset or angry can sometimes fuel you to work harder or practice better. You can commit more effort. Confidence can drive you to do more. But frustration just makes you worse.

Don't allow frustration in your gym as a coach. Easier said than done, I realize that. We all get frustrated when things aren't going our way. It starts with you as a coach. When you start to feel frustrated, don't let it overcome you. Find a positive way to get out of it. When you see it from your players, nip it in the bud right away. Turn it into something else.

It's okay to get angry, if anger is going to drive you to do better. Turn frustration into a different emotion, one that can fuel you instead of bringing you down. A frustrated player gets worse. A pissed off player tries something different, starts fighting his way back immediately.

Frustration doesn't allow you to move on to the next play. It impacts your approach, and it lingers. It brings negativity into the gym and gives it a place to grow. Nothing you do should make you worse on the next play. If it does, you aren't very mentally tough. And mentally tough teams don't sustain success.

Make it clear that frustration is not accepted in your gym, or in your program. That doesn't mean guys won't get emotional. We all do, and at times that emotion will be negative. Learn to turn it around quickly. Don't accept frustration from yourself, and don't accept it from your players. Make it clear that frustration has no place in your gym and your team's mental toughness will grow.

The Message They Receive

The message they receive is more important than the message you send. You may think you are being direct and clear, but if what they are hearing is different than what you are trying to say, it's on you. Your job as a leader is not to make sure you send the right message, it's to make sure they hear it.

I first learned that lesson in my second year as a head coach. I didn't think our team was tough enough, and I was trying to set a different tone in practice when we came back after Christmas break. I thought I was clear about the message I was sending, but it wasn't the same message they were receiving.

This is from my book "Entitled To Nothing."

Keep Listening

That January provided another great lesson in leadership for me, a reminder of the importance of listening.

As promised, when we came back to practice, I set a different tone. Practice was more intense. I was relentless with every toughness play and I had no let up. Our guys were coming back from a long break, so it was a little shocking for them. And I was fine with that. We needed to get tougher.

The problem was the extended break, combined with the new tone I was trying to set, led to some miserable practices. We were awful. The guys were out of playing shape after too many days off, and I kept driving them harder. I didn’t have a lot of patience or let up, because I knew we had to be tougher. The combination didn’t work, and for two days of practice everyone was miserable. I was convinced, however, that the new tone was something they needed to get used to.

After that second miserable practice, after the guys had gone home, I got a phone call in the office from Kinsey Durgin. Kinsey was unquestionably a team leader and also one of the best players in the league. His phone call turned out to be a very important conversa‐ tion in my development as a head coach.

Kinsey started out by telling me how much he loved playing for me, and how everyone on the team felt the same way. He said the entire team was bought in to what we were doing, but for the last two days they noticed a different tone, and everyone was miserable.

“We all love playing for you. But the last two days haven’t been the same. We feel like you are giving up on us, and you don’t believe in us. We’ve had coaches give up on us before, and guys are afraid that is happening again. So, please don’t give up on us.”

I was taken aback. Kinsey and I had a great relationship, and the conversation was very cordial. But at first, I wasn’t very comfortable. One of my players was basically calling me out as a coach and giving me constructive criticism. My first reaction was to defend myself. I was the head coach, right? Players don’t tell the coach what to do. I was a little tense. Fortunately, I didn’t get defensive.

We talked about why I was setting a different tone, because I didn’t think we were tough enough. He agreed that we needed to get tougher, but he didn’t think the guys were bought in to how we were going about it. The tougher tone was making everybody unhappy, and the tone was very negative. More importantly some of the guys were starting to turn on me and give up on the team. My approach was making us worse, not better.

I wasn’t sure how to react. We had a good conversation, but I defi‐ nitely felt like as the head coach my players shouldn’t be telling me what to do. My ego was definitely bruised. I needed to figure out what to do. Luckily, I didn’t respond in any way right on the phone, probably out of shock. Phil Jackson says, “When in doubt, do noth‐ ing,” and luckily, I followed that advice. Because I didn’t know what to do.

The next day I spoke to the team about the conversation I had with Kinsey. I thanked him for calling me to talk, and I apologized for the tone that I had set in the first two practices after the break. I made it very clear that I would never give up on them. I again explained what I was doing and why I was doing it. I reiterated the point that we needed to get tougher to win the league, and the players agreed. I asked them how we were going to get there.

We came to an understanding that they would hold each other accountable for all of the toughness plays on a daily basis. I would make sure I pointed them out and coached them on it, but they would have to take responsibility. They needed to correct the behavior and make sure it was unacceptable. In return, I would make sure the tone stayed positive. I’d still coach them and hold them accountable, but I wouldn’t get negative about it. They were going to take even more ownership. I had to give them the room.

To be honest, I wasn’t entirely comfortable with it at first. I was glad we had the conversation, and it felt good to have my team back. The guys were much better in practice moving forward and competed at a high level. The atmosphere was positive and fun. But I still wasn’t entirely sure that we’d be able to get tougher. I’d point out the soft plays in practice and I’d say “How are we going to change the behavior guys? How do you want to do it?” I tried not to yell or get too negative, and the point was more “you told me you were going to correct it, so what are we going to do about it?” It was risky as a coach, because I still didn’t think we were tough enough. But it felt good to get my team back. And little did I know we were creating more trust and ownership.

The Lesson They Receive

One other important leadership lesson I reinforced that week was that the message you deliver isn’t nearly as important as the message your team receives. I had explained clearly to our group what we were going to do that January, and they were on board with it. I gave them the why. But when I got to executing the plan, the message they were receiving was very different from the one I was trying to deliver. I thought I was showing them we needed to be tougher. They thought I no longer believed in them, that I was giving up on them.

It didn’t matter what message I thought I was delivering because it wasn’t getting across that way. What really matters is the message they are receiving, no matter what you think you are saying to them. That responsibility falls not on your team, but on you as the leader.

Leaders Don't Get Paid In Cash

"The better you get at leading others, the more it looks like you are unnecessary. The fruits of skillful leadership are eaten by others without awareness that the leader did much"

https://admiredleadership.substack.com/p/leaders-dont-get-paid-in-cash

Bill Bowerman - "Professor of Competitive Responses"

Phil Knight's description of his college track coach and first partner with Nike, from his book Shoe Dog.

The most famous track coach in America, Bowerman never considered himself a track coach. He detested being called Coach. Given his background, his makeup, he naturally thought of track as a means to an end. He called himself a "Professor of Competitive Responses," and his job, as he saw it, and often described it, was to get you ready for the struggles and competitions that lay ahead, far beyond Oregon.

5 Characteristics of Successful Teams

Todd Golden, the head coach at San Francisco, and his high school coach Dan Mannix from Phoenix.

A day before the Grand Canyon game, Golden and the Dons practiced at Sunnyslope, bringing the coach’s basketball life full circle. With players seated for a film session, Golden introduced Rosenbaum, who stood off to the side. Then Golden asked former Sunnyslope head coach Dan Mannix to say a few words in a gymnasium that bears his name.

Mannix told the Dons that successful teams have five characteristics. They communicate. “On the court and off with teammates and coaches.” They trust. “If I’m pressuring the ball, I’m trusting that you got my back.” They’re responsible. “Individual and collective.” They’re caring. “You care about each other and care about what you’re doing.” And they have pride. “You take pride in yourself, pride in your team, pride that you represent your parents and your school.”

"All Of Us Are Addicted to Tomorrow"

https://twitter.com/BrianCainPeak/status/1470800881436139523?s=20

Unwilling or Incapable?

We are all going to drive our team as coaches. We set high standards and we expect our team to live up to them. We hold them accountable if they don't. We work in an intense environment, so driving our teams sometimes gets loud. We need to get their attention when they aren't doing things the right way, and they need to know it's not acceptable. Our tone usually reflects that.

One important distinction we often overlook when we evaluate our teams is whether or not their struggles are due to a lack of effort or buy-in, versus a lack of ability. Are they unwilling or unprepared to do what you are asking them to do, or are they just not capable? I think we miss this one a lot as head coaches. I know I have.

I learned this lesson when I became the head coach at the University of Maine in 2014. I took over a program that had really struggled recently, had a toxic culture and lacked the necessary talent to have a chance at the D1 level. The program wasn't in very good shape, and I knew that when I took the job. I knew I had to connect with my players off the court first to get them to work as hard as I wanted them to on it.

The first year was a struggle, as we had expected. Everything we did was process-based, knowing the results weren't going to be very good. I drove our guys to learn to compete every day. When we didn't compete at the right level, I was very hard on them. They heard from me. We repeated drills over from the very beginning. At one point, I threw them out of the locker room and wouldn't let anyone where Maine gear to practice. They had to wear their own clothes until they earned the right to get their gear (and locker room) back with they way they competed every day.

This is where I made a mistake in evaluating our team. Over time I realized that what I was seeing wasn't a lack of effort, but really a lack of ability. Our guys were trying, they just weren't capable of doing what I was asking of them. I wanted them to compete at a level they had never played at before, and they just couldn't do it. As our practices moved forward, I realized I was trying to get blood from a stone. There was a limit to what our guys could do, and they are trying their best. I was seeing a lack of ability and evaluating it as a lack of effort or buy-in.

Needless to say my approach didn't get the best out of our team early on. As we moved forward I learned to coach with empathy, and I became a much better coach. Our guys were used to losing and used to a ton of negativity from a coaching standpoint. There was no way that yelling at them for a lack of effort was going to turn those things around.

It's really important to evaluate the difference between effort and ability with your team. Once I had a better feel for my team and what they needed, I became a big fan. I realized I had to be as positive as possible. We still had high standards, and we still held them accountable. But I tried to be the biggest cheerleader for my players. We celebrated the most minor successes. We made sure what we did was fun. I challenged myself to only give positive feedback, and to ask a lot of questions when things weren't going well, to get them to talk about what they needed to improve.

We tend to evaluate our teams through a lens of effort, focus and commitment. When things don't go our way, we challenge them to go harder. We say they aren't tough enough. They lack focus. But it's not always an effort issue that we can impact through yelling and screaming. Sometimes it's just a lack of ability. Recognizing the difference is really important for you to become a better coach. I know it was for me.

Inclusive Leadership

The Six C's of Inclusive Leadership:

Commitment - make it a priority

Courage - Show humility and honesty as you take a stand

Cognizance of Bias - Be aware of your blind spots

Curiosity - Have an open mindset about other people and different approaches

Cultural Intelligence - Keenly attentive of different cultures

Collaboration - Empower others to think, and to appreciate diversity

Creating Buy-In

An excerpt from my book "Entitled To Nothing" on creating buy-in. Learn more about the book and purchase it here.

For a discounted team/staff order, email me at bwalsh23@live.com.

Creating Buy-In

In that pre-practice team meeting I asked our guys if they thought we were good enough to win the league. It’s a great place to start for two reasons – one is I want them to say it and own it. The second is no team with anyone who is half a competitor on it is going to say no, they don’t think they can win the league. You won’t get much debate. I wanted them to set a high standard for themselves, and that standard was to win the league. And I wanted to hear them say it to me to enhance their level of buy-in.

Once they told me they thought we were good enough to win the league, the next question was how? What are you guys willing to do differently? We were talking about something that had never been done before – RIC had never won the league. They had never even played in the league championship game. I wanted to make it clear that change had to take place. What we have been doing hasn’t been good enough to reach that standard, so we have to talk about what we’ll do differently.

By establishing a new standard and getting them to own it, we could take steps towards building an approach. Again, asking questions is so important. I wanted them to say it, to be able to own it. When you work toward your goals as an organization, get your people to talk about it. Then you can discuss the steps you have to take together to get there—and make sure they realize it’s not going to be easy.

The players set the standard—win the league—and then I got them to tell me how we were going to get there. It was becoming theirs, and they didn’t even know it. The way we were going to be different on the court was by playing defense. But I wanted to make sure they had all of the tangible information in front of them so they could see where we had to change. In establishing a new culture, this is very important. The more specifics they can see the more impact you can have.

I put the offensive numbers of every team in the league up on the board in that team meeting. I think Western Connecticut had led the league in scoring the previous year at like 87 points per game. RIC had finished somewhere in the middle of the pack. I did the math on how many possessions would have to change for us to beat the teams above us in the standings, and it was roughly four posses‐ sions. If we could get four more stops per game against the top four teams in the league, we’d be in first place. I asked them if that was possible. Can we win four more possessions? We talked about going to West Conn or Keene State and getting two more stops per half. That doesn’t sound like a lot to ask. But that was the difference between leading the league in scoring with our offensive numbers and finishing in the middle of the pack.

I used their own words as the fuel. That’s why it’s so important to collaborate with your team and get them to tell you what they want, what they believe. You guys told me we are good enough to win the league. You’ve seen the evidence, where it’s going to take about four more stops per game to get the job done. You said it really matters to you. So now I’m going to push you to get there. I’m going to demand more out of you on the defensive end then you have ever given. And we are going to commit to being in the best possible shape we can be in to be great defen‐ sively. You guys told me you were capable, and you told me it was impor‐ tant to you. Now you have to buy-in and trust me to get us there.

My general philosophy as a head coach started to take shape that day. I had a pretty good idea what my approach would be when I got a head coaching job, but seeing it on the board and talking it out ignited me. I wanted a team that was tough and committed on the defensive end, but that played with freedom and confidence on offense. I knew the defensive end could separate us, especially in the Little East Conference.

Be specific about your own identity as a leader, and intentional about the identity of your organization. Identify areas of change that can help you, and where your team will really see and feel a differ‐ ence. Show them the facts. Ask them a lot of questions to get them to take ownership, and to tell you what they are willing to do.

Leadership isn’t getting your team to buy-in to what you are selling. Leadership is getting them to buy-in to something they believe. Creating that dynamic is a difference maker. Our identity started to form that day, as did our belief.

The Last Lesson

Fourteen years ago, on the Monday after Thanksgiving in 2008, I was getting ready to head down to practice at RIC when my cell phone rang. At RIC my office was in the Recreation Center, across campus from the Murray Center where we practiced and played, so we had to actually get into our cars and drive down to the Murray Center for practice. As I walked out of the Rec Center towards my car, I looked at my phone. It was my Dad calling.It was odd that my Dad would call at that time, because he knew we practiced late in the afternoon. I had a lot going on getting ready for practice, so I let the call go. I’d give him a call back after practice. I got in my car and started driving down the Rec Center, and my phone rang again. It was my Dad calling again. I figured maybe he just had to ask me a question about something so I picked it up.It’s hard to describe the feeling you get when your caller ID says “Dad” yet the voice you hear when you say hello is one you don’t recognize. My insides felt hollow. I was sitting at a stop sign waiting to make a right turn when I heard “Detective with the Tampa Police department.” My father had recently bought his retirement home in Tampa. “I’m very sorry to inform you…” My father had been found by his cleaning lady, dead of a heart attack. He was 63 years old. I was too stunned to know how to feel.I drove down to the Murray Center, parked in the parking lot, and called my brother. I got his wife, who said he was not feeling well and was sleeping. I told her he had to wake him up. When he came to the phone I just said “I just got a call from the Tampa Police department. Dad’s dead.” They had picked up my Dad’s cell phone and looked at his text messages. I had texted him the day before to let him know Providence College was in Anaheim in a tournament, and their game was on TV if he wanted to watch it. He never got the text. The Tampa Police did.I went inside the Murray Center, totally stunned, and told my AD. I went into the gym and gathered my players who were warming up before practice, and told them. It seemed weird that I told my team before I told anyone else in my family, but I had to let them know I wasn’t going to be at practice. I called my girlfriend – now my wife – and can still hear the shock in her voice.I went home and called my brother again, and we started calling family and close friends. The feeling is hard to describe, it’s like being in a daze. I was shocked, stunned, empty, yet there was a lot of work to do. We had to let people know, to start thinking about arrangements. Throughout all of it, as bad as I felt, I had this one overriding feeling: Lucky. It's still hard to explain how I felt that way in that moment.  I had a great relationship with my father, and I just felt lucky to have had the relationship I did with him for 36 years. I still feel that way to this day.  As stunned as I was, I just kept thinking about how lucky I was, and I guess that helped me get through that day somehow.My father was very successful. He grew up in Parkchester in the Bronx and had to work hard to get to college. He attended Iona College just North of the City, joining the Marine Reserves to help pay for school, and started a career in business upon graduation. He took a job out of school with KPMG, one of the big accounting firms in New York City, and ended up spending 38 years with the company. By the time he retired he was a senior partner with a big office on Park Avenue. He was very actively involved at Iona College, his alma mater, as the President of their Goal Club, as well as their Alumni Association. He joined a golf club in Westchester and served a stint as the President there. He served on a number of different Board of Directors for different organizations.My father’s wake was a few days later on Castle Hill Avenue in the Bronx, the neighborhood where he grew up. He was still a working class kid from the Bronx, but he had worked his way into being very well off and connecting with some very successful people. It was overwhelming to see so many people show up to pay their respects. Whenever your in the situation where someone close to you has a death in the family and you feel like your not sure what to do, just show up. That’s what you do. You show up. It really helped my brother and I to see so many people who cared about and had been impacted by our father.The wake was a who’s who of powerful people. College President’s, executive VPs, high-powered attorneys, wall street millionaires. It made my brother and I feel very good to see so many of my Dad’s friends and associates. The line was long and it took a couple of hours to see everyone.Towards the end of the night a man walked in who looked a little out of place. He was wearing a baseball cap and a pair of khakis with a golf shirt and a rumpled jacket. He had a work ID badge hanging around his neck, looking very blue collar in a white collar crowd. I noticed him as soon as he walked in, and I didn’t recognize him. He didn’t talk to anyone, he just waited on line and made his way up to our family to pay respects. He shook my hand and simply said “I’m so sorry for your loss. Your father was a great friend to me.” I said thank you, but didn't ask him who he was. After he got through the line, he went and sat in the back in a chair by himself. I noticed he said a few words to a few of the people from my Dad’s office. Then he got up slowly, put his cap back on, and started to walk out.I wanted to talk to him before he left, but I hesitated because I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. I didn’t want him to think that I was stopping him because I didn’t know who he was. I watched him walk out the door of the funeral home and head back down Castle Hill Avenue – past a number of car service Town Cars ready to take some of the attendees back into Manhattan. He put his cap on and walked back towards the 6 train.This man was on my mind all night. Before everyone left, I asked one of my father’s work associates if they knew who he was. I thought I had seen him talking briefly with some of the people from my Dad’s office. It turns out he did work in my Dad’s office – in the mailroom. He delivered the mail to my Dad’s floor of his Park Avenue office building, and my Dad had asked him what his name was, befriended him, developed a relationship with him. He asked him about his family. He found out he had two young kids in catholic school.  He'd buy them Christmas gifts so they had nice toys under the tree.  At different times when things were a struggle, my Dad had helped out by paying the tuition for his kids so they could stay in the Catholic grammar school in their neighborhood.When I learned about this, I couldn’t hold back the tears. This man had gotten on the 6 train in Midtown Manhattan and taken a one hour subway ride to Castle Hill, then walked the six blocks to pay his respects, to say “I’m sorry for your loss” to two sons he had never met. He didn't know us, and hardly knew anyone at the wake. He certainly looked a little bit out of place.I think about this man all of the time. I can still see him putting his hat back on and slowly walking up Castle Hill Avenue to the Subway station. He spent at least two hours on the subway and waited at least 30 minutes in line just to pay his respects. I didn't even know who he was, nor did my brother.  We would have had no idea if he didn't show up.  But he made the trip anyway.I am very lucky to have had the relationship I did with my father, to spend the time with him that I did. I’m also very proud of the way my Dad lived his life. He made a lot of money and traveled in circles of very successful people. But he was always the same person, the kid who had worked his way out of the Bronx. He had no sense of entitlement about him. I learned so much from him, simply from the way he lived his life and how he acted towards others, even those he didn't know. He treated everyone with dignity and respect and went out of his way to help people in need.That night, that moment, that man who showed up to pay his respects for my father made me think about how I live my own life. Do I treat everyone with the same respect? Am I courteous and genuine to everyone I meet, regardless of their circumstances and what they can do for me? Do I give people the benefit of the doubt if they are struggling with something, not knowing what might be going on in their life? Do I show the right amount of gratitude in my daily routine?How do I treat the people in my "mail room?"  We all have people in the mail room in our life. How do we interact with those people? Do we treat them with respect and go out of our way to make sure they are comfortable? Do we think about what we can do to help them? Or others who might not come from the same background that we do?What am I doing every day to make sure, when it’s my time, that the guy in my mail room is going to show up for me?That was the last lesson my father ever taught me.

Habits

I'm not the biggest Tom Brady guy (J-E-T-S), but this is a great article. The ability to think long-term is such an underrated element of sustained elite success.

In the spring of 2020, in the midst of the coronavirus outbreak, Brady participated in the Match II, the made-for-TV golf exhibition with Phil Mickelson and Tiger Woods in Florida. It was hot and raining. Nevertheless, a couple of hours before tee-off, Charles Barkley saw Brady in the parking lot of the golf club. He was running sprints. “What the hell are you doing?” Barkley said.

“I’m trying to win a Super Bowl,” Brady replied.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/sports/2021/11/12/tom-brady-age-longevity-discipline/

What Does It Really Mean To Sacrifice?

We use the word sacrifice a lot with our teams, but like many of these buzzwords I'm not sure we get specific enough when defining what we mean. Sacrifice is important to all high performing teams, but I'm not sure our players know what sacrifice looks like.

When we think about sacrificing on teams, most people think about things like taking less shots or scoring less points. It's also associated with playing less minutes. It can be about off the court stuff, like "sacrificing" your Friday nights to be ready to go for a game or an early practice on Saturday. Sacrifice is looked at as giving up something that is (somewhat) tangible - shots, playing time, social activities - for the betterment of your team. There is only so much to go around, so we all have to be willing to sacrifice - to take less, to help the team.

I don't see sacrifice as giving something up for your teammates. Sacrifice isn't just passing up shots or playing less minutes. It's not just skipping parties on Friday nights or getting up early to lift weights. Those are essential. They are actually (some of) the requirements for high performing teams. Can you consider those behaviors to be sacrifice? Sure. But to me, that is just part of the commitment to your team.

I see sacrifice as an element of emotional intelligence. Sacrifice is getting over your own feelings when they don't help the team. Sacrifice is taking an unselfish approach when you feel like you have a right to be selfish. When you think things are unfairly going against you. Sacrifice is about handling the emotions that inevitably go with being a part of a team. It's a lot more than just altering some behavior to help the team get better. It's a mental approach that allows you avoid selfish emotions that will hurt your team.

Your team is playing poorly in the first half in a game you are supposed to win. Everything is going wrong. Shots aren't falling, there are way too many turnovers, and you can't guard the ball. Instead of a comfortable lead at halftime, you are only up by two. The coaching staff is understandably heated. Everyone in the locker room is upset and frustrated as well. No one is happy with how you've played.

The coaching staff decides to make a change. No one has really played well, but they decide to shake things up and take you and one other starter out of the line up to start the second half. This is a decision coaches face often, and it's not an easy one. On one hand you know things have to change and you have to get a message across. But you don't want a couple of players to feel like they are being blamed for the entire team not being ready to play. It's not an easy decision.

How do you respond when your coach takes you out of the line up in that spot? The natural reaction is "why me?" I wasn't the one turning the ball over every time, and at least I made a couple of shots. I was playing hard on defense. What about him? In that moment, most of us feel the exact same way. It wasn't my fault. You should be taking someone else out of the line up.

This is where you really have to sacrifice. It's not that you are sacrificing your own playing time to let someone else play. That decision has been made for you. You have two choices. You can be a great teammate, stay positive, encourage the guys going into the line up and show a great attitude. Or you can get upset, feel sorry for yourself, half-ass your way through warm-ups and make it clear to everyone around you that you aren't happy. Which option do you think is better for your team? I'm not saying it's easy, because it isn't. Sacrifice is hard. Guess what? So is winning.

Sacrifice is getting over your own feelings when they don't help the team. It's natural to feel upset, and you may even be justified in feeling that way. You might be right. You shouldn't be the one to bear the blame. But in that moment, it doesn't matter. The coach made a decision he thinks is best for the team. You may not like it, and you don't have to, but how you react to it says everything about you as a teammate and your commitment to the team. You have to sacrifice in that moment - the way you feel, the way you want to react, and what your ego is telling you. Getting past those selfish feelings - even if you feel you are right - and committing to what is best for the team - that is really what sacrifice is all about.

If sacrifice is a word you use with your team, and it's really important to you, think about what it really means in behavioral terms. What does sacrifice look like? It's not really about playing out of position or taking less shots. It's more about the emotions you feel when things don't go your way. It's handling your ego, your feelings, and the way you want to react, to do what is best for the team in that moment when things don't go your way. Sacrifice is taking an unselfish approach when you feel like you have a right to be selfish.

Define sacrifice for your players in a way that fits your approach to develop a team committed to one another, and committed to success.

Phil Jackson - 11 Principles of Leadership

Phil Jackson's "Eleven Rings" is one of the best books on coaching, leadership and team building I have ever read.

Phil Jackson’s 11 Principles Of Leadership

Few people would be more qualified to talk about leadership than Phil Jackson in the sports arena. Jackson is considered one of the greatest coaches in the history of the NBA clenching 11 championship titles as a coach. This is by far the most wins in the history of NBA.

In his book Eleven Rings: The Soul of Success, he explores the alchemy of leadership and coaching. This book is a fantastic read not only for basketball fans who have followed Jordon and Bryant’s legacy, but also for leaders who can learn from Jackson’s lessons in team dynamics, organizational culture, and coaching.

Phil Jackson shares 11 leadership principles that have propelled him to become a championship leader.

1. Lead From the Inside Out. Avoid fads and excessive benchmarking. Rather lead from who you are. Develop a more open-minded. “As time went by, I discovered that the more I spoke from the heart, the more players could hear me and benefit from what I gleaned.”
2. Bench the Ego. “The more I tried to exert power directly, the less powerful I became. I learned to dial back my ego and distribute power as widely as possible without surrendering final authority. Paradoxically, this approach strengthened my effectiveness because it freed me to focus on my job as keeper of the team’s vision.

“Some coaches insist on having the last word, but I always tried to foster an environment in which everyone played a leadership role, from the most unschooled rookie to the veteran superstar. If your primary objective is to bring the team into a state of harmony and oneness, it doesn’t make sense for you to rigidly impose your authority.”

3. Let Each Player Discover His Own Destiny. “One thing I’ve learned as a coach is that you can’t force your will on people. If you want them to act differently, you need to inspire them to change themselves.” He empowered team members to think for themselves so they can make difficult decisions by themselves. In essence, he taught skills to catch a fish, rather than feeding the fish every time.

“My approach was always to relate to each player as a whole person, not just a cog in the basketball machine. That meant pushing him to discover what distinct qualities he could bring to the game beyond taking shots and making passes. How much courage did he have? Or resilience? What about character under fire? Many players I’ve coached didn’t look special on paper, but in the process of creating a role for themselves they grew into formidable champions.”

4. The Road to Freedom is a Beautiful System. Jackson used the triangle offense system, a controversial tool much like tools used for innovation in organizations, to inject a sense of freedom in the team’s play. “What attracted me to the triangle was the way it empowers the players, offering each one a vital role to play as well as a high level of creativity within a clear, well-defined structure…With the triangle you can’t stand around and wait for the Michael Jordons and Kobe Bryants of the world to work their magic. All five players must be fully engaged every second – or the whole system will fail. That stimulates an ongoing process of group problem solving in real time, not just on a coach’s clipboard during time-outs.”
5. Turn the Mundane into the Sacred. “As I see it, my job as coach was to make something meaningful out of one of the most mundane activities on the planet: Playing pro basketball.” He incorporated meditation into his team’s practices. “I wanted to give players something besides X’s and O’s to focus on. What’s more, we often invented rituals of our own to infuse practices with a sense of the sacred.”
6. One Breath = One Mind. Players “often have to make split-second decisions under enormous pressure. I discovered that when I had the players sit in silence, breathing together in sync, it helped align them on a nonverbal level far more effectively than words. One breath equals one mind.”

“If you place too many restrictions on players, they’ll spend an inordinate amount of time trying to buck the system. Like all of us, they need a certain degree of structure in their lives, but they also require enough latitude to express themselves creatively.”

7. The Key to Success is Compassion. “Now, ‘compassion’ is not a word often bandied about in locker rooms. But I’ve found that a few kind, thoughtful words can have a strong transformative effect on relationships, even with the toughest men in the room.” Compassion breaks down barriers among people. Jackson writes,

“When Michael returned to the Bulls in 1995 after a year and a half of playing minor league baseball, he didn’t know most of the players and he felt completely out of sync with the team. It wasn’t until he got into a fight with Steve Kerr at practice that he realized he needed to get to know his teammates more intimately. He had to understand what made them tick, so that he could work with them more productively. That moment of awakening helped Michael become a compassionate leader and ultimately helped transform the team into one of the greatest of all time.

8. Keep Your Eye on the Spirit, Not on the Scoreboard. “When a player isn’t forcing a shot or trying to impose his personality on the team, his gifts as an athlete most fully manifest.” When a player is “playing within his natural abilities, he activates a higher potential for the team that transcends his own limitations and helps his teammates transcend theirs. When this happens, the whole begins to add up to more than the sum of its parts.” He adds, “Most coaches get tied up in knots worrying about tactics, but I preferred to focus my attention on whether the players were moving together in a spirited way.”
9. Sometimes You Have to Pull Out the Big Stick. At times Jackson used “tricks to wake players up and raise their level of consciousness. Once I had the Bulls practice in silence; on another occasion I made them scrimmage with the lights out. I like to shake things up and keep the players guessing. Not because I want to make their lives miserable but because I want to prepare them for the inevitable chaos that occurs the minute they step onto a basketball court.”
10. When in Doubt, Do Nothing. “Basketball is an action sport, and most people involved in it are high-energy individuals who love to do something—anything—to solve problems. However, there are occasions when the best solution is to do absolutely nothing….I subscribe to the philosophy of the late Satchel Paige, who said, ‘Sometimes I sits and thinks, and sometimes I just sits.'”
11. Forget the Ring. Leaders hate losing. “And yet as coach, I know that being fixated on winning (or more likely, not losing) is counterproductive, especially when it causes you to lose control of your emotions. What’s more, obsessing about winning is a loser’s game: The most we can hope for is to create the best possible conditions for success, then let go of the outcome…What matters most is playing the game the right way and having the courage to grow, as human beings as well as basketball players. When you do that, the ring takes care of itself.”

https://paulsohn.org/phil-jacksons-11-principles-of-leadership/