He coached Michael Jordan. No, it was not Phil Jackson. He coached Kobe Bryant. No, it was not Pat Riley.
This was the guy who stood silently behind the scenes for 15 years without glitz or glamor. While Michael and Kobe were collecting championship rings, he was the guy they paid exorbitant amounts of money, so he would NOT coach other players.
Hidden from a lot of headlines, Tim Grover shares the non-secret to these two superstar's (and his own) success. In his best-selling book, Relentless - From Good to Great to Unstoppable, Grover puts it out there on paper. It's not rocket science. It's not even science. It's simple. He states:
"When I train my athletes, it's a dictatorship with three rules: show up, work hard, and listen. I'm not going to work harder than you do for your benefit. Show me you want it, and I'll give it to you."
"I'm not giving you options. Nothing for you to think about. Just show up, work hard, and listen. That's your part of the deal. Do the work. Do. The. Work. Every day."
"If you pass out in the middle of one of my workouts, I'm not standing over you to coax you back on your feet with compassion and support. I'm going to make sure you're breathing, and then I'm leaving you right there. Come find me and we can get back to work. We always get back to work. Being relentless means constantly working."
Sunday is Father's Day. When I flashback at the foundation my father formed for me it comes down to one word. Work.
Early in my father's life, he worked three jobs because he had to do so. Later in life, he worked three jobs because he wanted to. He had a bachelor's degree, master's degree, and doctorate. He planted a church from scratch and pastored it for sixty plus years. The Michigan State Senate recognized his work for being the longest-tenured minister at the same congregation in the history of the state. He just out-worked everyone else.
When I was eight, he put me to work. Mow our lawn. And the church grounds lawn. When I was twelve, he told me to work more. He had me clean the church, a job which required 8-10 hours of work EVERY Saturday. When I was 15 he sent me to work at a ranch during the summer. Six days a week. Started working at 4:30 a.m. and ended at 7:00 p.m.
To my father, the non-secret of success was one word. Work. It served him well. And, it has served me well.
In writing this blog, I paused and pondered. It probably would make sense to stop mid-sentence and say thanks to my dad. Give him a call. Wish him an early Happy Father's Day.
My mom answered and said, "He's not home. I think he went over to the church to help them work on something." He'll be 87 years old in a couple months...