“Give ‘em the Ball.” An Example of Great Coaching

Many years ago I learned a valuable lesson on leadership from a very wise little-league football coach. I had volunteered as an assistant coach for my son’s 12 year-old peewee football team, and with that responsibility was the opportunity to help the head coach. This elderly coach had been coaching the entry-level peewees for many years, even though his boys had long since graduated from that level. His style clearly wasn’t what I expected. He was more like a lovable teddy bear than a traditional linebacker, and more like a grandfather than a Vince Lombardi “win at all cost” football coach.
I learned many principles of leadership and coaching in that short season, but there was one concept in particular that taught me an important lesson. It was the first time our players had played organized tackle football. Many, in fact, lacked basic football skills, but the league rules required that, “every boy must play” a portion of each game. As a result, we spent the majority of our practice time rehearsing a few fairly simply plays and teaching the boys how to play the basic positions.
The evening before the first game, the coach had a pizza party at his home for the players. The boys had a good time, even though they were obviously nervous about the first game just a few hours away. As the party was about to end, the coach announced that he had one last play he wanted to add to the playbook. I was shocked, because I didn’t think the boys could handle the plays we had, let alone adding one more play at the last minute. In addition, there wasn’t any way we could practice the play before the opening game the next day. He described a simple running play with an unusual name: the “Jim Brown Play.” He explained to the boys that Jim Brown had been a running back for the Cleveland Browns professional football team. He believed Jim Brown was the best runner of all time: that’s why this play was called the “Jim Brown Play.”
To my utter shock the coach added one last detail. He told the boys that each of them had been assigned two positions, usually one on offense and another on defense. That, he said, meant that only a few boys would be given an opportunity to run the ball as a running back. The Jim Brown Play, he explained, would be different. He said that in any game any boy could come up to him on the sideline and say, “Coach, I want to be Jim Brown!” And with those words, he said, that he would find a time in that game when that boy would get a chance to be a running back for one play. I couldn’t believe what I had heard, because there were boys on our team who could barely walk and chew gun at the same time. I thought that the “Jim Brown Play” was nothing more than a recipe for disaster.
As people began leaving a few minutes later, the coach asked if he could have a word with me. He said, “I could tell by the expression on your face that you have a problem with my Jim Brown Play.”
Surprised that the coach could read me so easily, I replied, “Coach, I’m afraid that too many boys may ask to be Jim Brown. And if they do, we’re in for a long season.” With a thoughtful look on his face, he replied, “To the contrary, I’m afraid that not enough boys will want to try.” Then he taught me a great lesson in leadership as he added, “You’re confused as to why we are coaching this team. You seem to think that our primary purpose is to win games, at any cost. That may be true on other teams, but not here. Our purpose isn’t to win games at any cost; rather, our purpose is to give each boy an opportunity to develop his personal character. And if it takes a couple of fumbles to do that, it’s worth the price, because when we finish with these boys it isn’t the won/lost record that will help them in their lives, it’s their personal character.”
While I stood in his hallway feeling about six inches tall, he continued, “There are only three things that can happen when a quarterback hands the ball to one of our Jim Brown’s. The boy can drop to his knees and cry, he can fumble the ball, or he can run as fast as he can toward the goal. Two of the three possibilities aren’t good, but I’ll take that chance if I can get a few boys to find the inner strength of character to run hard toward their goal.”
I don’t remember what I said at that point, but I know how embarrassed I felt at not having seen his wisdom before he had to explain it. This wise coach was willing to sacrifice a minor problem or two in trade for the opportunity to develop inner strength of character in any boy willing to say, “Coach, I want to be Jim Brown!”
As we progressed through that season I came to understand and believe in the coach’s wisdom. And today, I wonder how many of his former “I want to be Jim Brown” players use their inner strength and personal character in running hard toward their goals.
At the pizza party I was initially worried that boys would want to be Jim Brown. But after talking to the coach, I was worried that too few boys would call the play. My fears had come full circle. Only five boys made the decision that season to become Jim Brown players. The others opted to reap the risks and rewards of playing their assigned positions.
I remember vividly one game where my son, who mostly played as a defensive back, walked up to the coach and said, “Coach, I want to be Jim Brown!” I remember my feelings of both pride and fear. Then, before the game ended I saw my son run on the field during an offensive series and line up as a running back. When the ball was handed to him my heart was in my throat, but he didn’t drop to his knees and cry, and he didn’t even fumble. Rather, he ran forward as fast as his little legs would carry him toward the goal line. He only made two or three yards, but from the expression on his face as he left the field you would have thought that he had personally won the Super Bowl.
Now, 23 years later my son is a physician who has achieved his goal of becoming a doctor. I wonder how much of his success is at least related to the wisdom of a little league football coach who said, “A person must have the ball in order to score the goal.” Do you let your employees have the ball, or are you afraid they might fumble? There once was a coach would probably say, “A few minor fumbles are worth the price of personal growth. Give ‘em the ball!”