Years ago, I was asked to coach my son’s soccer team of 8- and 9-year-olds halfway through their season. I did not relish the prospect since I had no experience as a coach and hadn’t played the game since I was a kid myself. But the team needed someone, and I guess why not me?
As I surveyed my team members, a couple of them wrestling by the goal post, another picking grass, another strangely spinning by himself in the corner, my gaze fell upon Lucy. Lucy was not a natural athlete. She was a little chubby, she was shy, and she was awkward. She was the kind of person who not only looked a bit out of place, but clearly felt out of place. Frankly, she was the kind of person who would be easy for a coach to ignore.
At first, I didn’t know where to put her on the team. At that age, it’s not really about winning as much as it is about being on a team, learning the game and having some fun. But Lucy wasn’t having fun. Where could I put her so that she would have fun? With her being not very fast, not so good with her footwork and not blessed with endurance, I did what any self-respecting coach would do and placed her in the goal. She did not seem so keen on the idea, but she reluctantly acquiesced in the way shy kids often do.
During our first game, Lucy was completely lost. She didn’t know to come out of the goal when necessary, she wasn’t aggressive in challenging attacking players, and she made half-hearted attempts to throw her hands up to stop an incoming kick. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course, we lost badly, but the worst part was that all eyes were on Lucy when the ball approached the net. All eyes saw her fail. And she knew she failed. I could see her misery as she slowly walked toward her mom after the game. I could see her mom’s sad concern.
At the next practice, I worked with Lucy. One on one, I showed her when to come out of the goal to challenge attackers. I showed her how to dive on the ball and smother it. I encouraged her to be aggressive when needed. I told her that she was going to be our goalie, our “go to” to keep us in the game, our no-holds-barred, aggressive, most badass goalie in the league. She smiled shyly in spite of herself at that probably inappropriate description.
At the next game, I yelled encouragement to her from the sidelines. I told her when to charge out. I screamed admiration when she made a save. I shouted that she’d get it next time if one got by. As I yelled such words of encouragement, she became bolder. She became more aggressive. I saw her smile after she dove on a ball. Lucy still wasn’t so great. But a few saves and a coach literally screaming encouragement from the sidelines was making a difference.
At the next practice and over the next few games, Lucy became more confident. She smiled more. She laughed more. And as her confidence grew, she got better and better. Lucy interacted with the other kids and even joked around with them. She was bringing herself to the team. Lucy was revealing who she was.
During our final game Lucy made a particularly great save, and as she walked toward me off the field, her smile grew. In that moment I saw Lucy as she was meant to be seen: a vibrant, brilliant human being filled with potential and promise — and the confidence to know that she was OK. That she belonged. That she was a valuable member of a winning team.
I tell this story because Lucy is every person on your team and in your organization. What she became, and what she came to know about herself, is what every person in your organization can achieve. Every person, at heart, just wants to be a valuable member of a winning team. Your role as a leader is, fundamentally, to make that happen. If you make that happen, by and large your numbers will take care of themselves. How many people in your organization languish in self-doubt or are diminished by what they can’t do rather than celebrated for what they can do? How many people show up a shell of themselves, or hide their radiant and joyful selves behind a mask of conformity? I guarantee you, too many. And you’re losing a huge part of what every single person can contribute to your team.
Honestly, I wasn’t an especially good coach. But I loved those kids. And I showed them that I loved them. They knew I believed in them and they knew I would do everything I could to put them in a position where they could contribute and be valued. Yes, we drilled and worked on soccer skills. But I also coached, encouraged and listened. I showed them that I cared and believed. And that made all the difference to them — and, in the end, to me.
At the end of the final game, Lucy’s mother came over and thanked me. She told me that Lucy’s experience in the goal on that kids soccer team made a bigger difference to her self-confidence and self-esteem than anything she had experienced so far. Seeing Lucy’s smile and seeing her become herself was my greatest leadership accomplishment. I encourage you to seek out the Lucys in your organization to see what you can help them become.
