Leadership
True Leadership - Issue #11
By Tom McCarthy
Jun 2, 2006 - 12:05:00 PM

The 2006 NCAA (University) Basketball Championship Game was played a few weeks ago and Coach Billy Donavan led his team to the championship and carved his name into the memory of the millions of people who watched the game. This time of year always reminds me of the most successful coach in NCAA Basketball history, John Wooden. He coached at UCLA from 1948-1975 and his teams won an unheard of 10 national championships. Several years ago I had an opportunity to spend a day with Coach Wooden when he spoke at a large seminar that I had helped put together in Anaheim, California.

I had heard from others about what an amazing man and leader Coach Wooden was and the day I spent with him confirmed that. When I offered to have a limousine pick Coach Wooden up for the program, he asked if I wouldn't mind picking him up myself at his home in Encino, California. He said he'd like to be able to spend the ride getting to know more about me.

In my many years of working with and being around famous people, I'd never heard someone turn down a quiet and relaxing limousine ride in order to spend their time getting to know someone that may never see again.

I jumped at the opportunity and when the day of the program arrived I picked up Coach at his house. On the drive I got to ask Coach Wooden about his championship teams, famous players and his beliefs about leadership. With humble and soft voice he said that he didn't win any championships, they were all won by his players. Coach also told me that he didn't really enjoy the games that much. He enjoyed the practices the most.

Practice was the time he got to teach the basketball and life lessons that he hoped would allow his players be the best they could be. Being the best you can be. That is the definition of winning to Coach Wooden. He said that there were games that his team won on the scoreboard, but he felt like they lost because his team did not perform at their best. On the other hand he said there were games that his team lost on the scoreboard where he felt like they won because they played their very best. His father taught him at a young age, after he called his brother a name during a game they were playing, to never try to be better than anyone else, but never stop trying to be the very best you can be.

Advice I wish I had been given earlier in my life.

Coach Wooden has a unique definition for success. He said, "Success is peace of mind, which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you made the effort to become the best that you are capable of becoming." There wasn't near enough time to ask Coach Wooden all the questions I wanted to ask him that day.

After Coach Wooden spoke, I walked him out to the front of the hotel and I told him that I had to arrange for a limousine to drive him home since I was due to speak later in the program. As we were waiting for the limo a guest of the hotel was walking into the lobby and he stopped in shock as he recognized Coach Wooden. He rushed over and said, "Coach Wooden I think you are the greatest coach of all time and it is an honor to meet you!" Coach Wooden humbly thanked him and immediately turned to me and told the man "I'd like to introduce you to my friend Tom McCarthy." Coach wanted to make sure I wasn't left out. He has a reputation for always thinking of others. A few seconds later the limo drove up and the driver opened the rear door with a big smile as he realized he would be driving the famous John Wooden. Coach Wooden thanked him for opening the door and then said, "Do you mind if I sit up front with you so that I can find more about you on the ride home?" The shocked driv er closed the rear door and Coach Wooden opened the front door and got in. The stretch limousine left the hotel with no passengers in back on its way to take a great man back home.

Coach Wooden is well into his 90s now. One of these days you'll hear about his passing away. When you do I hope you remember the lessons of his life. Coach Wooden did not focus his teams on beating other teams and winning championships. He loved every player that played for him and he focused his teams on being the best they could be, as basketball players, students and human beings. Even if Coach Wooden never won a championship he still would be one of the greatest coaches ever. Just ask his players.

Have an outstanding day,

Tom McCarthy
www.TomMcCarthy.com
www.FireupTraining.com

The article below is a reprint from a column written a few years ago by Rick Reilly of Sports Illustrated. I think you'll enjoy it.

On the 21st of the month, the best man I know will do what he always does on the 21st of the month. He'll sit down and pen a love letter to his best girl. He'll say how much he misses her and loves her and can't wait to see her again.

Then he'll fold it once, slide it in a little envelope and walk into his bedroom. He'll go to the stack of love letters sitting there on her pillow, untie the yellow ribbon, place the new one on top and tie the ribbon again. The stack will be 180 letters high then, because the 21st will be 15 years to the day since Nellie, his beloved wife of 53 years, died.

In her memory, he sleeps only on his half of the bed, only on his pillow, only on top of the sheets, never between; with just the old bedspread they shared to keep him warm.

There's never been a finer man in American sports than John Wooden, or a finer coach. He won 10 NCAA basketball championships at UCLA, the last in 1975. Nobody has ever come within six of him.

He won 88 straight games between January 30, 1971, and January 17, 1974. Nobody has come within 42 since.

So, sometimes, when the Basketball Madness gets to be too much -- too many players trying to make Sports Center, too few players trying to make assists too few coaches willing to be mentors, too many freshmen with out-of-wedlock kids, too few freshmen who will stay in school long enough to become men -- I like to go see Coach Wooden.

I visit him in his little condo in Encino, 20 minutes northwest of Los Angeles, and hear him say things like "Gracious sakes alive!" and tell stories about teaching "Lewis" the hook shot. Lewis Alcindor, that is...who became Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.

There has never been another coach like Wooden, quiet as an April snow and square as a game of checkers; loyal to one woman, one school, one way; walking around campus in his sensible shoes and Jimmy Stewart morals.

He'd spend a half hour the first day of practice teaching his men how to put on a sock. "Wrinkles can lead to blisters," he'd warn. These huge players would sneak looks at one another and roll their eyes. Eventually, they'd do it right. "Good," he'd say. "And now for the other foot."

Of the 180 players who played for him, Wooden knows the whereabouts of 172. Of course, it's not hard when most of them call, checking on his health secretly hoping to hear some of his simple life lessons so that they can write them on the lunch bags of their kids, who will roll their eyes.

"Discipline yourself, and others won't need to," Coach would say. "Never lie, never cheat, never steal," and "Earn the right to be proud and confident."

If you played for him, you played by his rules: Never score without acknowledging a teammate. One word of profanity and you're done for the day. Treat your opponent with respect.

He believed in hopelessly out-of-date stuff that never did anything but win championships. No dribbling behind the back or through the legs. "There's no need," he'd say.

No UCLA basketball number was retired under his watch. "What about the fellows who wore that number before? Didn't they contribute to the team?" he'd say.

No long hair, no facial hair. "They take too long to dry, and you could catch cold leaving the gym," he'd say. That one drove his players bonkers.

One day, All-America center Bill Walton showed up with a full beard. "It's my right," he insisted. Wooden asked if he believed that strongly.

Walton said he did. "That's good, Bill," Coach said. "I admire people who have strong beliefs and stick by them, I really do. We're going to miss you.

Walton shaved it right then and there. Now Walton calls once a week to tell Coach he loves him.

It's always too soon when you have to leave the condo and go back out into the real world, where the rules are so much grayer and the teams so much worse.

As Wooden shows you to the door, you take one last look around. The framed report cards of his great-grandkids, the boxes of jellybeans peeking out from under the favorite wooden chair, the dozens of pictures of Nellie.

He's almost 90 now. You think a little more hunched over than last time. Steps a little smaller. You hope it's not the last time you see him.

He smiles. "I'm not afraid to die," he says. "Death is my only chance to be with her again."

Problem is we still need him here.



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