The Score Takes Care of Itself (31 page)

The state of mind I could achieve as a game was about to begin was pure, so free of dissonance—it was just the best. The ritual created it. It was the gladiator mind-set, free of stress, distractions, and emotionalism, that got me ready for the competition and allowed me to work at my highest level.

“Getting your mind right” has application beyond a football game. Those events where you’re putting it all on the line—a big sales presentation, an important conference with your team (or your boss), and many other occasions—all require that your thinking be at its best. The prep erformance “ritual” that you develop can help make it happen just as it helped me to do my job to the best of my ability.

I have a passion for what I do. Also, if I’m honest about it, I’d say that I have an ability to communicate and relate to others in the context of work, to express myself clearly, and to do that in all circumstances, especially under extreme pressure.

If I have a gift, it is the imaginative strain in my system, my makeup. I’m excellent at coming up with concepts and then finding a way to make them a reality. If I have a vision, a concept, I know how to find a way to implement it and not back away from it, a determination to see it through and, if necessary, take risks to make it happen.

If I had an idea for a certain new formation or play, or a way of using a particular player, I would find a way to make it work. (This is what I did when I utilized John Ayers to take on the task of neutralizing the great threat presented by New York Giants outside linebacker Lawrence “L.T.” Taylor.) And if my idea failed, I knew whether to drop it and move on to something else or to continue to develop it. You could call me a good problem solver. Of course, before you solve a problem, you’ve got to spot the problem. I was good at that too.

I had this ability even when I was coaching high school football in Fremont, California. I just couldn’t stop trying to figure out new ways of doing things, coming up with novel solutions to problems, different plays. It fascinated me. That part of it never stopped—looking for innovative ways of doing things. I was always looking to build a better mousetrap.

One of the reasons the 49ers won five Super Bowls in fourteen years is that we expected veterans to do everything possible to bring along rookies. In effect, they were expected to train their own replacements, and it was one of the reasons I prohibited hazing. I wanted new players, new staff members, new scouts, and everyone else who joined us to sense immediately they had joined an organization with a unique environment.

I stressed to veterans that we should take pride in welcoming the new arrivals who could help the team win and create and carry on the 49ers tradition. To help us accomplish this goal, the veterans were instructed to help others learn the ropes, do the job better (even if it was their
own
job they were training someone else to do). Thus, the body of knowledge a veteran player had accumulated—especially as it pertained to my Standard of Performance—was being assimilated by new employees, rookies, and first- and second-year players in a very effective manner. In a sense, I made teachers out of my students. The players became coaches. This built-in crew of teachers exists in your own organization. Tap into it.

I applied the same expectations—teaching and training others to do one’s own job—to myself. When I retired as head coach after Super Bowl XXIII, my replacement and longtime assistant coach, George Seifert, had been well schooled in the Standard of Performance that had become the 49er way. Seifert’s San Francisco 49ers won Super Bowl XXIV the year immediately following my departure. It was his team, but I felt ownership and pride in it.

There was, however, great ambivalence in my pride. At the moment of San Francisco’s fourth Super Bowl title, as I watched the commissioner of NFL football, Paul Tagliabue, hand the Lombardi Trophy to George Seifert and Eddie DeBartolo, I was filled with deep remorse and great sadness.

By retiring at the end of the previous season I had denied myself the opportunity to equal the all-time record for a head coach of winning four Super Bowls, as Chuck Noll’s Pittsburgh Steelers had done under his leadership. It is perhaps the most illustrious of all NFL records. I quit at three, “voluntarily” walked away from my chance to make history. I never got over that one.

My philosophy of team members teaching new arrivals the organization’s system, not just
X
’s and
O
’s but the attitudes and actions of performance, is essential to a self-sustaining winning organization. It is accomplished through mentoring within your organization. And for mentoring to exist, members of your team must truly believe that their first loyalty is to furthering the good of the group: “What is good for
us
is good for me.” That’s tough to teach, but it’s part of the connection and extension principle that was built into my Standard of Performance.

I am not naive. Intense rivalries existed between players fighting for the same position, and they did
not
want to train their own replacements. The best example in my experience is perhaps Steve Young and Joe Montana—two of the greatest quarterbacks in NFL history, who are both in the NFL Hall of Fame. When Steve was acquired from Tampa after Joe had led San Francisco to two Super Bowl championships, Montana didn’t like it one bit. He felt threatened, perhaps insulted and embarrassed. Nevertheless, my goal was to help both of them put aside personal ambition and accept my decisions regarding what was best for the team as I looked into the future. Good luck with that.

Obviously, it was impossible for them to literally do this, to forget about their rivalry. After all, they were both thoroughbreds by nature and nurturing, born leaders who felt diminished standing on the sidelines watching the other guy do a job each felt he could do better. Nevertheless, I wanted to get close to a situation where they were able to coexist and not be disruptive to the overall environment of the organization.

An overall workable “truce,” which was uneasy at times, was held together, and each player made some efforts to help the other. They were never buddies, and in fact to this day view each other with a wary eye. But it held together. We—
they
—kept the peace. In my opinion, overall they did help each other. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking, but that’s how I would like to think it was. It certainly was that way for other players throughout most of the organization.

Everyone must have an attitude of helping one another. Are you teaching that to those you lead? Do you teach that being on your team includes sharing their knowledge? That an employee strengthens himself or herself when he or she strengthens another member of the organization?

It’s a powerful force when you unleash it. I unleashed it during my years as head coach of the San Francisco 49ers. It was one of our great assets—unseen by those outside the 49er organization.

Paul Brown, the only man in history to have an NFL team named after him—the Cleveland Browns—was also one of professional football’s most powerful and creative forces, a football genius whose absolute commitment to his team’s welfare was an obsession. He was willing to do virtually anything for the good of the team. This caused him to deal severely and, at times, unscrupulously with anyone acting in a manner he viewed as contrary to the best interests of the Browns (and later the Cincinnati Bengals).

I know because at a very important point in my career I was subjected to this dark side of Paul Brown’s character. Ultimately, it became one half of a crucial lesson I learned about dealing with people.

When Paul Brown decided to retire, I had been his assistant offensive coach at Cincinnati for eight years. During that time, he’d led me to believe I would replace him as head coach when the time came for him to step down. But when the time came, he chose Bill “Tiger” Johnson, a talented offensive coordinator I had worked with during my years on the Bengals’ staff. I was devastated and felt it was time to look elsewhere if I was going to advance my career in the direction of eventually becoming a head coach.

Very soon I discussed job openings with the Seattle Seahawks and the New York Jets, neither of whom showed any interest at all. This struck me as unusual, since both teams needed to make improvements in an area where I had proven expertise and a good track record; namely, figuring out how to score more touchdowns.

Later, during an interview with the San Diego Chargers about the job as their offensive coordinator, I began to understand why I had received such a cool reception in those earlier job interviews: My efforts to find employment outside the Bengals football organization were being aggressively sabotaged by someone from
inside
the Bengals organization: my boss, Paul Brown.

Tommy Prothro, head coach of the Chargers, casually mentioned during my job interview that Paul had called him two days earlier and made very critical remarks about my work at Cincinnati, including the observation that I was too passive to really motivate and lead a large group of players. He strongly urged Tommy not to hire me. (Simultaneously, I was being offered the job as offensive coordinator of the Bengals, the same position the Chargers had been told by Brown that I couldn’t handle.)

This backstabbing was confirmed shortly afterward by Al Davis, the crafty owner of the Oakland Raiders, who told me that other owners and executives around the NFL were also getting negative critiques about me out of Cincinnati. “The word going out on you isn’t so good, Bill. People are hearing that you’re great with
X
’s and
O
’s but not really a leader. Maybe that’s why you’re not getting offers,” he suggested.

Al was correct. In spite of my loyal and very productive years as an assistant coach with the Cincinnati Bengals, Paul Brown wouldn’t recommend me to other teams and was, in fact, aggressively reaching out to prevent me from getting a job elsewhere. (It also explained why during my eight years at Cincinnati I had received no serious job offers. Brown had turned aside inquiries about my availability and downplayed my leadership abilities. In all those years, he never mentioned that others were expressing interest in hiring me, that other teams wanted to talk to me about a job.)

In one way, it was understandable. Brown had a fanatical desire to protect the Cincinnati franchise at all costs, even if it meant dishonestly denigrating my ability to other NFL owners and coaches. Obviously, this was a personal betrayal, even if he believed it was somehow in my own best interests to remain with the Bengals.

Added to everything else, this made it imperative that I leave Cincinnati as soon as possible. Subsequently, I joined Tommy Prothro’s staff in San Diego and soon learned the other half of an important lesson in how to treat people if you want a productive organization filled with true team spirit and vitality.

One year after I was hired by the Chargers, Stanford University called and inquired about my availability to take over as its head coach. When Tommy heard about the offer, he immediately came to me with the following advice: “Take the job, Bill, because a head coaching position in the Pac-10 is significant. For the good of your family and career and peace of mind, go to Stanford.”

Tommy felt that I had done outstanding work for him during the previous season—my efforts with future Hall of Fame quarterback Dan Fouts and the subsequent improved offensive attack had produced excellent results, and there was every reason to expect more of the same. Nevertheless, Tommy put
my
best interests ahead of his own and his team’s. He was a man of the highest ethical standards.

My subsequent work as head coach at Stanford University led directly to being hired by the San Francisco 49ers, and it was due in great measure to his encouragement and selflessness.

However, the following question should be addressed: If the bottom line, winning, is all that counts, didn’t Paul Brown make the smart choice—doing everything possible to keep a valued employee on staff, even if it meant hurting that individual’s chance for advancement elsewhere? No, and ethical considerations aside, here’s a very practical reason why.

I believe that character-based leaders tend to seek and attract character-based employees in sports, in business, or anywhere else. As my own career progressed, I tried hard to emulate the example of Tommy Prothro, who believed in treating people right, whose leadership was founded on ethics. Here’s just one example of how it played out for me.

When I was head coach of the 49ers, one of our defensive coaches, Ray Rhodes, began attracting attention from other teams because of his uncommon abilities—highly informed, enthusiastic, straightforward, a good teacher and communicator who got exceptional results. He was a very important factor in the early years when we were trying to turn things around and then later in winning Super Bowls.

The New York Giants, already familiar with Ray’s outstanding qualities because he was one of their former players, requested permission to talk to him about a coaching position (he still had a one-year obligation left on his San Francisco contract).

In spite of the fact that we greatly valued his ability, character, and importance to our team, I recognized what Tommy Prothro had done for me. I gave New York permission to talk to Ray with the understanding that if he ultimately wanted to break his contract with the 49ers and join the Giants, he would be free to do so. Additionally, I told New York the truth about Ray Rhodes; namely, that he was a terrific coach and solid citizen. The Giants soon offered him a job.

Now it was our turn. To keep Ray in the organization, we prepared a very strong counteroffer, including a three-year contract for a lot more money. It was not an easy decision for Ray, because he had received two outstanding offers, but after giving it careful consideration over a period of several days, he decided he would benefit most by staying with the 49ers. Ray remained with us and continued to do great work. A few years later, he became head coach of the Philadelphia Eagles.