Jacks-of-Many-Trades
(This is the first in a four-part series of ideas about leadership…from the perspective of a basketball point guard.)
My love for the game of basketball grew alongside of and intricately intertwined with my fascination with the point guard position. At 5’4”, it was where I physically fit. But it was also where I wanted most to play.
From the top of the floor I could see things—gaps in the defense, passing lanes ripe to open like a drawbridge with a ball fake, teammates who were in a perfect scoring position-- with just one more move of the ball-- though they didn’t know it yet. I could feel the pull of 15- foot spacing, the angle that a dribble could improve. And I didn’t mind the weight. The all-inclusive responsibility of leading a team felt like a privilege to me. It was a grind without reprieve that taught me more than I could ever thank it for.
As is true for a quarterback or a coxswain or a corner-office CEO, a point guard is asked to be a jack-of-many-trades. When at her very best, she is both who she is and whatever it is her team needs for her to be. That juxtaposition strangles many, often hamstringing those it doesn’t kill. But for those who accept its challenge, it becomes a frame that shapes them while providing a cheat sheet on how to move through the world with others in a way that helps you both expand.
In the summer of 1996, as the brand-new basketball coach at the University of Oklahoma, on the top of my list of things to do was find a point guard who could run the show. We needed a capable player—someone with a polished skill set who could handle and share the ball but who could also score. And we desperately needed a leader who could be an extension of the head coach on the floor. Someone who radiated presence, someone a new team could feel tethered by.
I went in rabid search for such a beast.
With a wild eye out for John Stockton’s steadiness and Steve Nash’s style stitched together by Ervin Johnson’s magic, I hit the streets. My bar was silly high. But the standard kept me looking past the smoke and mirrors. It kept me digging for more. What I found on the other side of pretenders was a girl named Stacey Dales.
“Steve Nash” by Keith Allison is licensed under CC by 4.0
Stace, my first point guard, was a prototype in all the ways that matter, although by physical stature she was a bit ahead of her time. A long and lanky 6-foot-2, she was skilled, feisty, and more than willing to stretch herself to see what she could become. I think Patrick Lencioni calls that kind of wiring “humble and hungry.” She was that in spades-- along with a list of other things leaders can’t NOT be.
When Stace graduated—after guiding our team to the National Championship game—she handed the baton to a shy but serious up-and-comer from St. Louis, Missouri, Dionnah Jackson. Di handed the baton to Brittani Brown. Brit handed it to Danielle Robinson. D-Rob handed it to Morgan. Mo handed it to Gabbi… the train of leadership just kept doing what it was designed to do.
These point guards, though wide-ranging in skill-set strengths and personal bends, were more alike than they were different. Even their most finite distinctions were similar if you zoomed in to look at them. The ribbon that ran most boldly through them was a stat sheet that rarely showed the impact they had on others. By what they saw, through what they did, with what they said and how and when they said it, they made the people around them better.
That’s what leaders do.
Point guards are made not born. But if you don’t have at least a little chutzpah in your DNA, you won’t turn into one. Not a good one anyway. A pinch of audacity is a goes-without-saying prerequisite for helping others get to where they want to go. And that’s a point guard’s job. She leads people. Pushing when necessary; pulling when pushing doesn’t work. She is part cattle herder, part shepherd, part General masquerading as Mother Hen. She does little things and big things, complicated things and simple things, obvious things and obscure things—often simultaneously both on and off the court.
It's not an easy job.
The work is never finished and the learning never stops because the landscape is ever-changing--as are the people trying to navigate it. Leading requires awareness, curiosity and clarity of purpose. Muscles built at the front end to support what the job requires. Leaders must be able to cast a vision, chart a course, connect with others, carry a load. The what-to-do and the how-to-do-it can be taught. The how-YOU-do-it must be learned.
And it can be.
Leading is a skill that can be honed and polished much like a change-of-pace dribble that through intentional work becomes a part of you. But it’s really, really hard.
Push-a-boulder-uphill-in-driving-rain hard.
Hard that’s worth every bead of sweat.
The best stuff usually is.
P.S. Sue Bird Assist Reel