Addition by Subtraction
When Cutting One Raises Everyone
I wasn’t ready for Patrick. A left-handed star pitcher on the varsity High School baseball team, he wasn’t just a good athlete—he was the kind of raw talent coaches dream about. But as the newly appointed head coach of a struggling high school cross-country team, I wasn’t prepared for the challenge he would bring. Patrick didn’t join cross-country for the competition; he joined to run with the girls and soak up the social scene. Unfortunately, that attitude trickled down to other seniors, and it wasn’t long before I realized that I had inherited more than a team ranked 149th out of 151 schools. I had inherited a team with a culture problem.
At first, I didn’t set any clear expectations. Practices ran without much structure, and team policies were mentioned casually—too casually. I had assumed that by just showing up and working together, the athletes would buy into the idea of improvement. But that’s not what happened. For Patrick and a few of the other seniors, hard work wasn’t on their agenda. Instead of taking on the role of a leader, Patrick let his natural talent do the talking, while the underclassmen steadily chipped away at his position.
It all came to a head in the final meet before the state championships. Cross-country teams typically run seven athletes, but if the budget allows, an alternate can be added. Patrick knew he wasn’t running well enough to secure a top-seven spot, so he followed the eighth-place runner closely during the meet and out-kicked them at the finish to secure his alternate position. He didn’t do it because he wanted to help the team at state—he did it because he wanted to make the trip.
That’s when I realized I hadn’t made the rules clear. The lack of boundaries I’d set as a coach had given Patrick a path to manipulate the system. In ancient times, an archer was a symbol of someone with responsibility—someone who could harm or protect depending on their skill and precision. Proverbs 26:10 warns, “Like an archer who wounds everyone, so is he who hires a fool or those who pass by.” This imagery reflects the carelessness of putting someone unqualified or uncommitted in a position of influence, much like an unskilled archer shooting arrows indiscriminately, causing harm to everyone around. In ancient society, where communities depended on wise leadership and clear roles, allowing a fool or unworthy person into an important role could destabilize the entire group.
In the context of coaching, this verse resonates deeply. By allowing Patrick to claim a spot on the team without fully earning it through hard work, I had unknowingly wounded the integrity of the entire team. Just as a reckless archer could cause widespread damage, my failure to establish clear criteria and uphold standards opened the door for confusion and lowered the team’s morale. In leadership, failing to set firm boundaries or allowing individuals to bypass the rules sends the wrong message to others—hard work and commitment are no longer valued, and the team’s culture suffers. Now, I had a decision to make—do I let Patrick keep that spot or confront him?
Patrick also challenged me directly, testing my authority in front of the other athletes. As a young coach, I was tempted to argue, to assert my dominance and prove I was in charge. But what would that have accomplished? Proverbs 26:4 advises, "Do not answer a fool according to his folly, or you yourself will be just like him." Engaging in an argument with Patrick wouldn’t have changed his attitude; it would have only drawn me into an unproductive conflict. Instead of escalating the situation, I chose to let it simmer. In the end, Patrick did not make the trip to the State Championships, but I realized that the real issue wasn’t just his behavior—it was my failure to lead with clear expectations and boundaries. The lesson I needed to learn was not about dealing with individual athletes, but about strengthening my own leadership.
Fast forward to my role as a college coach, and the lessons I learned from that high school experience shaped everything I did. In college, I knew from the start that clear expectations were non-negotiable. I tried to establish a culture from day one, talking about team policies, roles, and what it meant to be in good standing. There was no room for ambiguity. Athletes knew exactly what was required of them, and if those expectations weren’t met, we had private meetings to address it. I hoped to approach these moments calmly, with specific and actionable feedback, because I knew the stakes were high—losing a spot on a college team could mean losing a scholarship or eligibility (something that I took very seriously).
As a leader, I understood that accountability had to be woven into the fabric of the team. Each week, I met with my captains to discuss accountability and self-reflection, ensuring they grasped the importance of their role in upholding the team’s culture. In ancient times, wisdom was highly prized, but Proverbs 26:12 warns of a specific danger: "Do you see a man who is wise in his own eyes? There is more hope for a fool than for him." In ancient Israelite culture, being "wise in your own eyes" indicated arrogance and resistance to learning, traits that were even more damaging than outright foolishness because they blocked the path to growth. A fool might still be corrected, but someone who believed they had all the answers was far more difficult to reach.
In coaching, this verse resonates deeply. When athletes become complacent, believing they already know it all, they resist feedback and growth. By fostering self-reflection and a culture of accountability, we avoided the trap of athletes thinking they had nothing more to learn. If bad behavior surfaced, I addressed it immediately—not with harshness, but with a firm and clear explanation of where expectations weren’t being met. This approach paid off, as athletes realized that constant reflection and improvement were core values. Just as ancient wisdom taught that arrogance leads to stagnation, modern leadership recognizes that without ongoing self-assessment, both individuals and teams can easily become stagnant or resistant to necessary change.
In contrast to my high school coaching days, I no longer allowed talented athletes to slide just because of their natural ability (a decision that may have cost us points at some track meets, but ultimately strengthened the culture we were building). I learned to address issues privately but with the seriousness they deserved. If an athlete wasn’t willing to rise to the challenge, there was no room for excuses. Enabling bad behavior—whether it was laziness, gossip, or defiance—would only undermine the foundation of the team.
The high school story with Patrick taught me that leadership is about more than just winning or losing. It’s about setting the right boundaries, holding individuals accountable, and fostering a culture where everyone knows what’s expected of them. Whether it’s dealing with laziness, foolish arguments, or a lack of self-reflection, Proverbs 26 provides timeless wisdom for coaches and leaders alike.
As I look back, I’m grateful for the lessons learned in both settings. Patrick’s story was a turning point, but it was the experience in college that allowed me to truly put these principles into practice, creating a culture of growth and accountability that any team—athletic or otherwise—can benefit from.