Have you heard this phrase: “Do as I say, not as I do.”
I sure have, and it makes me shake my head every time. This dictate never works for long.
Here’s a story that teaches a lesson about the importance of behavioral congruence. That’s a phrase which means “there is consistency between goals, values and attitudes projected and actual behavior observed.” In other words, “Do as I say, which IS what I do.”
FYI: Names have been changed or omitted to protect the innocent and the guilty.
Several years ago, I attended a mandatory parent meeting held by a coach for one of my son’s athletic teams. This coach knew his game, and he was obviously passionate about it. I liked that.
This coach also had command, especially at the microphone. As soon as he asked for attention, he got it.
After a round of typical introductions, the coach announced his expectations of his players. Most of the information was standard fare regarding commitment, attendance at practices, scheduling and grades. What made the greatest impression, however, was his statement about talent vs. heart. He said he’d rather train an “athlete with less skill who had heart” instead of an “athlete with superior talent who had attitude (the bad kind).”
I’ve spent most of my life on a soccer field, on a softball diamond or in a dojang. I’m a lifelong athlete who has been coached by many. I remember my coaches who invested themselves in bringing out my best, even when I wasn’t the star of the team. Their impact has been longlasting in wonderful ways. I also remember my coaches who lost control, played only the performance phenoms and nearly burst their carotid artery screaming their way through games. Their lesson are forgettable.
Given my history, I was happy my son was in the hands of a leader whose values I held in high esteem. Perfect, right?
Well…where did that man behind the podium go when his feet hit the field? I didn’t see him again until he addressed the team at the closing season banquet—in a suit and holding a microphone, and yes, behind a podium.
Between those two appearances, I observed that man pace, point and bark his way up and down the sideline. He played the same kids and denied many “who had heart” playing time of much significance. His conduct was unbecoming of a coach, or anyone for that matter. He lost the respect of his players and the allegiance of their parents. In fact, he cultivated contempt. He exhibited a leadership style I never want my son—or anybody—to emulate.
I drafted this note to the coach, who has since left the program. Though the details are related to sports, the lessons are relevant to anyone who leads.
“Coach, your commitment to the game is notable. But your team is about young men, not wins/losses, plays in a book or recaps on video. Further, not all of those young men respond to dismissiveness and scoldings. You can’t reach your players if you don’t figure out how they are best reached. And when the coach/player impasse widens, morale plummets, cohesion deteriorates and losses escalate. Sound familiar? Maybe it’s time to re-evaluate your style and make some changes to your coach approach, just as you would to a game strategy that warrants adjustment.
Compassion is not weakness. Controlled expression is not lack of passion. Thoughtful communication does not compromise authority. Screaming does not get you heard.”
Emerson says, “Your actions speak so loudly, I cannot hear what you are saying.” As leaders, words and actions must align. It’s easy to deliver a rehearsed speech or to institute a new policy. But the leader who does not practice what’s preached will forfeit the chance to excite minds and inspire hearts.
To every leader, take an inventory of all your messages, whether spoken, written or behavioral. Do they look alike? I hope so.