The Score Takes Care of Itself (21 page)

Before it even started, he was shouting through his megaphone, with the volume turned up, about my anatomy, which he decided was not adequate for most males. He questioned my sexual preferences, with accompanying speculation. This went on and on—really crude stuff, but as the game progressed and it got colder and colder, his mouth began to freeze up. He’d try to say, “Walsh, you’ve got a big fat a-a-a-a-a-sssssss,” until finally he couldn’t even talk any more. You would think I could tune out somebody like that, but it’s tough. It was just another factor that could easily have interfered with my focus and decision-making abilities. It didn’t.

We had a well-designed game plan with thorough contingency options that were right in front of me on my clipboard. We stuck to the plans, because there was no way I could consistently make intelligent and rational decisions with the freezing wind, the noise, the cold, the megaphone man, the Bears’ great team, and sixty-seven thousand fans bearing down on us.

We won 28-3, and I defy anyone to think they’re so strong, so able, so gifted they can make clear-cut
good
decisions in the middle of that kind of pandemonium under that kind of stress.

The San Francisco 49ers had talent and were well schooled. Neither matters if the person in charge falters or fails when it matters most. Having a clear idea of what your options are—situational planning—helps you be a leader when leadership is required.

Two weeks later, we won Super Bowl XXIII.

People say there are winners and losers in life. But typically, it’s more like this: There are winners, and there are people who would
like
to be winners but just don’t know how to do it. Intelligent and talented people who are motivated can learn how to become winners if they have someone who will teach them.

Leadership, at its best, is exactly that: teaching skills, attitudes, and goals (yes, goals are both defined and taught) to individuals who are part of your organization. Most things in life require good teaching—raising a family and educating children, running a company or sales team, or coaching athletes—so it’s unfortunate that more people don’t spend the time and thought required to do it effectively.

I was fortunate in this area, because I learned through the observation and study of tremendous teachers. Consequently, when I look back on my years as an assistant coach and head coach, what gives me great satisfaction is not necessarily a Super Bowl championship or an award, but the experience of recognizing ability in a person and then teaching that individual how to reach his potential in ways that helped our team.

That process—seeing someone I had evaluated, selected, and taught break out and do great things—is what it’s really all about for me, the source of my greatest pleasure in leadership. In my experience, this is what it takes to be a good teacher: passion, expertise, communication, and persistence.

Passion is a love for the act of teaching itself—believing in your heart that it is not a means to an end, but an end in itself. In order to have passion, you must love the topic you teach. My love of football and teaching it is so strong that when I was a coach it became hard to shut my mind off and think about something else.

I might be half asleep or dreaming, or talking to someone, and my mind would drift away from the conversation and a play would take shape in my mind. I could see all twenty-two players moving in response to what I had drawn up.

Diagrams of plays kept flowing through my head—the
X
’s and
O
’s, the lines and arrows going through my mind constantly, like a computer’s screen saver where the objects keep changing shape and moving around.

Once during a get-together with friends, I was sitting on a couch in front of the fireplace with my arm around my wife, Geri. Unconsciously I began diagramming a passing play on her shoulder with my index finger while carrying on a conversation with someone across the room.

After a while, Geri looked at me and asked, “Honey, did it score a touchdown?” I didn’t know what she was talking about until she told me; I didn’t know I had been drawing a play on her arm with my finger. That’s how much I love it; that’s how much you need to love teaching your team. It is not a duty or burden that you get out of the way so you can move on to “important” things. It
is
the important thing.

For me it was a fundamental source of personal joy. I was consumed by the process of developing the abilities of others. You do it because you really care for it; you do it because you have to.

You’re not necessarily born with it; you develop it, research it, thrive on learning as much about your subject as you possibly can.

The greater your expertise, the greater your potential to teach, the stronger and more productive you can be as a leader. Without it you are disabled and will garner less and less respect from your team because they will sense that you’re not on top of things, let alone able to teach them something meaningful. People know when you don’t have the answers.

Here’s a good rule of thumb: “The more you know, the higher you go.” To advance in any profession, I believe it is imperative to understand all aspects of that profession, not just one particular area: Only
expertise
makes you an expert.

When assistant coaches approach me and ask, “Bill, what is the best route to getting a head coaching position?” I tell them they must expand their base of knowledge and develop their inventory of skills and profi ciencies in all phases of the job: “You may be an offensive coordinator and making more money than your offensive line coach who’s reporting to you, but unless
you
know offensive line coaching, he’s the de facto offensive coordinator. He determines your fate, because he knows more than you do.”

Your team will sense it, that you are not as knowledgeable in what you do as you should be. They will sense that you don’t have the answers, that you lack a strong understanding of the “how” of doing things. When this occurs, they will not follow you.

A teacher gains expertise by seeking out great teachers, mentors, and other sources of information and wisdom in a relentless effort to add to his or her own knowledge. My teachers—outstanding in their own particular ways—included John Ralston at Stanford; Al Davis at Oakland (and by default, the great Sid Gillman under whom Al had served in San Diego with the Chargers); the Bengals’ Paul Brown; Tommy Prothro of the San Diego Chargers; Bob Bronzan, my coach at San Jose State, where I was a wide receiver; and others who showed me the value of teaching and how to do it. (In business this means
actively
seeking the counsel of those you respect in your profession, as well as studying printed material and publications that you determine will provide pertinent input.)

Many mistakenly believe that just presenting facts—information—is teaching. Successful teaching is a two-way process. Just as a pass is not successful until the receiver catches it, successful teaching requires reception, retention, and comprehension of your message. Some teach by word, others by deed—their example is the teacher. The best teaching uses both forms of communication, word and deed. And in all situations, enthusiasm for the subject matter is what powers the communication connection to those you teach.

I have spent literally thousands of hours in front of an overhead projector diagramming and explaining plays to a bunch of easily bored athletes sitting on hard metal chairs and taking notes in a dimly lit room with bad ventilation. This can get dull fast, even if you’re the player in the diagram who’s going to be carrying the ball for a touchdown.

To me, the intricacies and potential of each individual play were exciting; each one was like a ten-thousand-dollar Rolex watch with unique, highly crafted, and precision-made features that I cherished. I wanted to convey my sincere enthusiasm and real excitement to the players.

I did it with facial and body language—moving assuredly and with energy, rubbing my hands together as if I were savoring a fine meal. And I did it with an enthusiastic tone of voice and positive words. The goal was to get the team as enthusiastic and excited as I was about the play’s potential. I couldn’t do it by reciting information as if I were reading from a phone book.

Here is a list of descriptions I used to set up and create excitement for seven different plays during a presentation in preparation for a game with the Dallas Cowboys:

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Each one was something special, with its own special introduction and personality. Other teams might use just a number to identify a play. My plays were never just numbers to me, and I didn’t want them to be just numbers to our team. They were distinct entities with personality, character, and potential of their own. Never a number. They were my children, and I bragged about them like a proud parent.

After presenting the details of a specific play, I’d repeat a variation of my opening observation: “I’m telling you, we could have a five-hundred-yard day!” or, “Wait’ll they see this one coming. They won’t know what hit ’em!” I started and finished my description with nothing but optimism,
enthusiasm
, and belief. Never a caveat, no “ifs,” no hesitancy.

My body language and positive words were never contrived, phony, or overdone. I genuinely had great affection—love, in fact—for what I was teaching. But
X
’s and
O
’s, squiggly lines, and squares and circles with arrows pointing in various directions can be boring, even deadening when presented without energy and enthusiasm. I wanted to convey to the team that what I was offering them was alive, that it had magic in it. I made sure my demeanor conveyed that; I showed them I really cared. You must do the same if you want to light a fire in those you lead.

Your enthusiasm becomes their enthusiasm; your lukewarm presentation becomes their lukewarm interest in what you’re offering.

I came to understand over my years as an assistant coach that when the audience is bored, it’s not their fault. And when they’re plugged in and excited, it’s because of you, the person in charge.

One of the keys to successfully executing the complexities of the West Coast Offense was my devotion to the principle of persistence.

We did the same drills over and over again; I said essentially the same thing over and over, discussed the same information, concepts, and principles over and over. Gradually, my teaching stuck. Eventually, successful execution became almost automatic, even under extreme duress, because like air, my teaching was everywhere.

 

While passion, expertise, communication, and persistence are the four essentials of good teaching and learning, I would also add these nuts-and-bolts practices to facilitate what you do as a leader who is a great teacher:

Now that I’ve outlined my ideas about teaching, it should not surprise you to know that the most gratifying time of my life as a teacher was probably not with the San Francisco 49ers. It was much earlier, when I was with the Cincinnati Bengals, when I was personally responsible for teaching a wide assortment of skills and ideas to a diverse group of individuals—quarterbacks, wide receivers, tight ends—and creating and implementing the passing game. And I did this all without the great responsibilities that come with being a head coach, with the “distractions” that took me away from teaching.