He was asked about being surrounded with a group of young, talented players.  After complimenting their performance both individually for some and collectively, he said something very simple, but something that gives insight into the massive success the club has enjoyed over the last 20 years: “That’s what we expect from them.”

Manchester United has won the English Premier League 18 times, tied with Liverpool for the most ever.  They have won the Champions League, Europe’s top club competition, 2 times in the last 10 years, not to mention numerous FA Cups, League Cups and Charity/Community Shields.

Yes, they have talented players, and they were recently listed by Forbes as the most valuable sports franchise in the world at over 1 billion US dollars.

But this isn’t why they win.

They win because of their mentality.  They win because they have expectations. Everyone who comes to the club, whether they come in the middle of their careers or having been promoted from the youth system, is expected to perform at the highest level.

The pressure is immense, but so is the support.

Manchester United expects to perform; they expect to win.

What do you expect?

From whom?

Press pause: good leadership lesson right there–let ‘em try it!  But I digress…

When I arrived home, I realized it had been done, but not by whom.  I assumed that my wife had acquiesced to one of the 12 year old entrepreneurs who frequent our neighborhood with their advertisements for lawn care.  Not long after I entered the house, I learned who had, in fact, done it.

I also learned what the expected rate for such service is.

“Between 4 and 6 bucks,” my son reasoned.

Now, our lawn is reasonably sized, and would command significantly more than that from another service provider.  In soliciting the views of some of my friends in passing, I received some wise counsel: let him feel like he has negotiated well.  I asked him a question, “How much do you think it is worth?”

Again, “Between 4 and 6 bucks.”

“How much would you charge someone else for that work?”

He thought for a moment, then responded, “10; 5 for the front and 5 for the back.”

“Deal.  I agreed.”

He felt like he’d negotiated well; he was proud of his effort and the money he’d earned.

I, though, was proud of his initiative.

What happened? One or two of you might be wondering.

I got sidetracked. Or maybe hijacked. I started learning some things about myself, investing in my own development, thinking about things in new ways, exposing myself to new ideas and topics.

It carried me away for a while.

And that’s a good thing.

When was the last time you took a break from things as a leader? Not a vacation, but a break? I mean even from things you enjoy, and just moved toward something that would increase your self-awareness and, probably indirectly, sharpen your ability to help or influence others?

Pause for a moment. What would that look like? Sometimes it is intentional. More often, it comes to us as an opportunity, but it is one we rarely seize.

So what did I learn most from taking a break?

Probably that time invested in myself is always indirectly going to be time invested in others (sooner or later), that my leadership has a lot of growing to do and will evolve and improve if I continue to cultivate it, that wielding my strengths is sometimes not as important as ensuring that they do not wield me, and that preparation must be met with patience (and thankfulness).

It’s worth it.

Trust me; that’s where I’ve been.

“Hmmmm….,” I thought aloud.  ”I know it’s nearby, but I’m not sure where.”

“Turn around; go back to Stoddard, and turn right.  After that, it’s the first street,” interjected the voice of my not yet 8 year old son.

The driver looked at me, questioning.

“He’s right,” I remembered.

“Thank you,” he looked at me, then corrected himself.  ”Thank you!” he said to my son before driving off.

“Good thing I remembered where Shady Lane is,” my son said.

“Yeah, nice job,” I replied.

My son doesn’t know how to drive.  We barely let him go a few blocks away on his bicycle.  He’s never had any training on reading a map, nor does he know anyone who lives on Shady Lane.

But that isn’t the point.  The point is that he knows where it is.  He isn’t supposed to know, and it doesn’t matter how he knows, or how he remembered, just that he knows.

And when that happens, a good leader has only one response: get out of the way and let the expert do the talking.

“How can you be sure you are delegating based on strategy, not necessity?”  I asked her.

Delegating strategically considers not just what needs to be “off the leader’s plate,” but, more importantly, what needs to be “on” someone else’s to prepare them for greater challenges and ensure their continued success.  It also considers the desired outcomes of the team and organization, and uses delegation as a means toward each.

To whom are you delegating?
What are you delegating?
Do you know why in both cases?
If you can answer these questions confidently, you’ve likely found the key to delegation.

Krzyzewski intervened before Zoubek had a chance to respond, telling the journalist that Zoubek had not had an up and down career; rather, that his career had been marred by injuries.  Coach K then made a joke about how the injuries precluded Zoubek from going up and down, saying, “He can’t jump.”

“Thanks, Coach,” Zoubek responded with a wry smile.

“Well, you are never going to play for me again, so…” came Coach K’s response.

“Does that mean I get to say something back?” Zoubek responded.

“No, because I can still get back at you,” and Coach K had the final word.

When Coach K first interrupted the question, it might have been easy for some to surmise that he was simply being pedantic, but it was more than that.  He was protecting his player, just as he had done for the previous 4 years of his career at Duke.  The playful banter that ensued between them demonstrated both the rapport they shared, as well as the respect with which Zoubek approaches his college coach.

Part of that respect obviously comes from the success Coach K has enjoyed over time, having won his 4th national championship at the same school last night.  More telling, though, it comes from the fact that Brian Zoubek, and probably all of Duke’s players, know that their coach, a formidable ally, is squarely in their corner–even in a matter so small as a journalist’s wording of a question.

Zoubek could have handled it himself, but Coach K was having none of that.  He did not want his player’s career referred to in any negative light–not on this night, and not on any other.  He was protecting his people.

One of the most interesting things I noticed during the game was the home team’s use of timeouts. During every timeout of the game, the home team’s coaches would walk to the middle of the court, huddle together, and talk to one another. Sometimes individual coaches would have a quick word with an individual player as the coach returned to the bench and the player returned to the floor. The players themselves, though, were left to their own devices during the timeouts, and on only one occasion did they gather together as a group. Even at that, it was a gathering only of the 5 players who were currently in the game.

I found all of this very unusual given the contrast I observe in having watched some of the recent college basketball tournament games. There, most teams use timeouts to huddle the players around the coach, who usually has a whiteboard in his hand to illustrate his instructions.

Now, this is not meant to be a comparison of the NBA game versus the college game, nor a discussion about the merits of particular coaching styles. What I saw yesterday, though, was “top down” leadership at its peak. The leaders (coaches) got together, made decisions, and then gave limited instructions to the players during the game (e.g. when they were distracted).  Not surprisingly, they lost, despite having a lead for a good portion of the game.

The leadership lesson here?  Simple.  Talk to your people.  Lead with questions.  The game might have had a very different outcome if the coaching staff had started timeouts by saying things like, “What are you seeing out there?”  or making sure to ask, “What else could we do to improve?”

Are you talking to your people?  Are you leading with questions, not statements?

“Really?  How come?” I asked.

“Because she gave me the gold star eraser, and everyone else wanted it.”

“Did everyone else get erasers too?” I queried.

“Yeah, but I was the only one who got the gold star, so I think that means I’m her favorite.”

My son’s 2nd grade teacher, Ms. E., is wonderful–she is encouraging and positive, constantly nurturing what is best about the children in her classroom.  Our family has really grown to appreciate her this year.

But having observed her, and having interacted with her on several occasions, I can very safely say that my son is not her favorite student, and that she does not favor any of the students over others.  If you ask Ms. E., she will almost certainly say that she does everything in her power to treat children fairly, but differently based on who they are.  She does not favor one student over another, but adapts her approach to each of them based on what she discovers about them.

But there is something not to be missed here.  My son thinks that he is Ms. E.’s favorite student.  He feels like he is.  Ms. E. has created an environment in which her leadership affords this to every child in her classroom, and my son feels valued and confident because he believes that someone he likes and respects, his teacher, thinks he is important and special and talented.

Now pause with me for a moment–what might our world be like if every classroom, every organization, every home operated like this?  What if each student, employee, or member felt as though the leader was “playing favorites” and that, whatever else had occurred before then, he or she was the favorite?!

That, friends, is a perception that can change people.

And leadership to compel our aspiration.

I fought it at first–I wanted to start my run–but I found myself realizing that running, in this moment, would have been a selfish decision.

“If you wait just a second, I’ll go with you,” I said.

“OK,” she smiled brightly.

It was simple; we went for a short walk with the dog, just up and down our street. We talked and laughed. The whole thing probably took 10 minutes.

When we came back inside, she had the idea to make breakfast for the rest of the family, who were still in bed.

“OK,” I said. (When a 9 year old is eager to make her 7 year old brother breakfast in bed, you take it.)

We made breakfast together. She even took the coffee grinder to the outside porch to ensure its noise didn’t awaken anyone. She wrote encouraging notes to put on the breakfast trays.

We delivered the breakfasts together and enjoyed the surprised and grateful responses. I encouraged her and thanked her for the great idea.

And THEN I went running–not as long as I’d planned to–but happier than I would have been otherwise.

Who needs time with you?
What personal interest might you need to delay or sacrifice on behalf of others?

Unfortunately, most of us as leaders tend to focus on what’s wrong, or who’s wrong, not on what’s right, or who is doing the right things.

Yesterday I took my daughter to a local coffee establishment for a hot chocolate.  I just wanted to talk to her, and encourage her.  You see, she is the kind of kid who does a lot of things right.  She does her homework conscientiously, doesn’t get in trouble at school, tries to help other kids obey the rules, etc. 

But what she sees in her classroom, and sometimes in her home, makes her feel unappreciated.  She hears lectures all the time about things that she didn’t have anything to do with, endures punishments designed for other kids but meted out on the entire class…

So I said to her, “I know it’s hard sometimes to do things right even when other people aren’t.  I really appreciate it, though, that you keep doing that even though it’s difficult, or even when other people keep getting attention for the wrong reasons.”

True to form, she said, “Yeah, sometimes,” but practically immediately started talking about something else.  It just wasn’t that big of a deal to her.  She does the right things because that’s who she is.

As her Dad and as a leader, though, I have to make sure she knows I’m proud of her for that, and that I notice.  And a cup of hot chocolate and a few encouraging words are a small price to pay for assurance that she does.