With all the recent talk about coaching versus execution, Ash blaming players, etc., I thought this story interesting.
Paraphrase from the book, Parcells: A Football Life.
As a young assistant at Hastings College, Bill Parcells game planned against a bootleg option an upcoming team was fond of running in the red zone. During the week leading to the game, Parcells spent a substantial part of every practice and player meetings discussing the bootleg. Primary responsibility would rest on perhaps his best player, Jack Giddings, who played fullback and safety. He was smart, tough, hardworking. “A coach’s dream,” Parcells says. With Giddings anchoring the defense, Parcells was convinced that the Wolves wouldn’t score in their typical fashion.
The test came early, as the Wolves drove the ball down the field and into the red zone. Nebraska Wesleyan ran the play. After the snap the Wolf quarterback faked a handoff, scampered toward the sideline, and then stopped, planted his feet to throw toward the receiver Giddings was covering. It was just what the defense had drilled for, but to Parcells’ dismay, his talented safety was out of position after biting on the routine bluff. The tight end, Giddings’ man, was wide open for the pass. Touchdown.
As Giddings jogged to the Bronco sideline, Parcells seethed. “I wanted to kill Giddings,” he recalls. Not waiting for his player to reach the bench, Parcells charged toward him. Inches from the player’s face mask, the coach screamed, “How many times do we have to practice something?!” Giddings looked down at the ground. “What does it take for you to learn?” Giddings remained silent. “I went over this with you!”
When the two men got back to the bench, Parcells continued his expletive-filled rant until Head Coach Dean Pryor walked over to his assistant. “Leave the guy alone, Bill.”
“But Coach, we worked on the play a hundred times in…”
Pryor raised his voice and cut him off. “Well you obviously didn’t go over it enough, because he didn’t get it.”
That teachable moment was the first time that Pryor had ever scolded Parcells, and it happened in front of a bench full of players. “That cut like a knife to the heart,” Parcells remembers. “But it was one of the best lessons I have ever learned.”
The lesson learned was regardless of the mistake made by a player, his coach shared responsibility for any lack of execution. The onus falls on the coach to foster an environment conducive to learning and retaining instruction. Over the decades, Parcells would convey this same lesson countless times to his coaches when they blamed a player for not following instructions.
Paraphrase from the book, Parcells: A Football Life.
As a young assistant at Hastings College, Bill Parcells game planned against a bootleg option an upcoming team was fond of running in the red zone. During the week leading to the game, Parcells spent a substantial part of every practice and player meetings discussing the bootleg. Primary responsibility would rest on perhaps his best player, Jack Giddings, who played fullback and safety. He was smart, tough, hardworking. “A coach’s dream,” Parcells says. With Giddings anchoring the defense, Parcells was convinced that the Wolves wouldn’t score in their typical fashion.
The test came early, as the Wolves drove the ball down the field and into the red zone. Nebraska Wesleyan ran the play. After the snap the Wolf quarterback faked a handoff, scampered toward the sideline, and then stopped, planted his feet to throw toward the receiver Giddings was covering. It was just what the defense had drilled for, but to Parcells’ dismay, his talented safety was out of position after biting on the routine bluff. The tight end, Giddings’ man, was wide open for the pass. Touchdown.
As Giddings jogged to the Bronco sideline, Parcells seethed. “I wanted to kill Giddings,” he recalls. Not waiting for his player to reach the bench, Parcells charged toward him. Inches from the player’s face mask, the coach screamed, “How many times do we have to practice something?!” Giddings looked down at the ground. “What does it take for you to learn?” Giddings remained silent. “I went over this with you!”
When the two men got back to the bench, Parcells continued his expletive-filled rant until Head Coach Dean Pryor walked over to his assistant. “Leave the guy alone, Bill.”
“But Coach, we worked on the play a hundred times in…”
Pryor raised his voice and cut him off. “Well you obviously didn’t go over it enough, because he didn’t get it.”
That teachable moment was the first time that Pryor had ever scolded Parcells, and it happened in front of a bench full of players. “That cut like a knife to the heart,” Parcells remembers. “But it was one of the best lessons I have ever learned.”
The lesson learned was regardless of the mistake made by a player, his coach shared responsibility for any lack of execution. The onus falls on the coach to foster an environment conducive to learning and retaining instruction. Over the decades, Parcells would convey this same lesson countless times to his coaches when they blamed a player for not following instructions.
