Lessons from the dog pile
How leadership, accountability, and grace on the sports field can be translated into the workplace.
“We will, we will, rock you. Rock you.”
It was Friday night lights, also known as city-wide high school football Friday night.
The throbbing bass from the classic Queen team spirit song splintered the chilly fall air.
My son’s team, like him, was in its inaugural year.
I knew nothing about football. Except. The voice inside the speaker would shout excitedly, “And Carson Park snags the pass.”
Translation. My son was at the bottom of a tangled mess of misplaced football pads, askew helmets and sweaty bodies.
It was his favourite place in the whole world.
Fast forward 10 years. The player becomes the coach.
A jagged mess of curls nodded excitedly as the gangly 17-year-old marvelled about the difference his coach, my son, had made in his life.
“He got me so interested in football, in sports, in fitness. He’d call me and ask if I wanted to work out with him. I was so honoured. He pushed me. I did things I didn’t know I could do.”
His breath caught, and he brushed his eye as he looked away. “He believed in me. That changed everything. I got to feel what it is like to be part of a team because of him.”
He stood straighter, proud and tall, and then looked at me, “Oh, and can you get this gift to the coach?”
The physical gift could not match the gift of the young man’s expansive praise.
It got me thinking about leadership and accountability.
Why was this young coach, my son, able to make such a difference in this teenager’s life?
He had purpose. He was resurrecting a high school football team. The only memory of his former team, from more than 10 years ago, was a room full of well-worn equipment.
He wanted his boys to know what it was to grow physically and mentally; to experience first-hand what a difference determination and commitment to themselves and the team can make.
He wanted them to feel the camaraderie of playing together and working together.
He wanted them to hurt from too many pushups and remind them the next week that they were achieving more.
He wanted them to see that things don’t “just happen;” there needs to be a huddle to create a plan, a strategy.
He wanted them to learn their strengths and learn to acknowledge the strengths of others.
And different people have different roles in getting to the “end game.”
He wanted them one day to see the parallels of work ethic from the field to the workforce.
“If you take out the team in teamwork, it’s just work. Now, who wants that?” — Mathew Woodring Strover
The son-coach has moved on to work in a new environment — one that has several departments, multiple roles and responsibilities.
In his new role, like the “red-shirt” rookie in the football world, he started doing grunt work. His boss wants him to understand all the roles. The boss is building empathy and understanding. The boss is creating an “us” mentality because “we have all been there.”
Even though “we have all been there,” the coach has observed the production department blaming shipping and shipping blaming production when maybe it was just the weather that blocked the smooth flow of product.
I wondered how you get rid of the blame game.
“Production and shipping are like the offence and defence — different roles with clear responsibilities, so it can be easy to blame the other. Each ‘side’ needs a hyper-accountable person,” the rookie/former coach explained.
“In football, if you make a bad throw, you are responsible for the bad throw and the great catch by the opposing team. There was something you could have done to lessen the damage of the bad throw, even it was just yelling at one of your players, hoping for an interception.”
I pictured him drawing plays on a white board as I switched ears and grabbed a pen and notepad.
As he talked, I wrote. My son didn’t know it, but he was coaching me on how to write this week’s column.
“On the offence and defence, like in shipping and production, there need to be a couple of leaders who don’t blame the guy beside them. These leaders model accountability. ‘Hey, man, this one is on us.’
“If you never blame a teammate, it is hard for a teammate to blame you. If you give grace, it allows you to be given grace.”
He stopped talking, but I kept writing. I was running for the touchdown.
I knew, as he did, that it is a downward spiral when separate groups blame each other.
It is an ebb and a flow when there is accountability and grace.
And on the football field or the production floor, leading with accountability and grace will grow gangly teenagers into responsible contributors.
My son is now the gangly newbie in the business world, but I suspect his boss-coach, who lost his curls a long time ago, will be just as excited about the changes in his life and work environment.
