US Glass - April 2008 - USGlass Magazine

theBusiness
The Coach
by Lyle R. Hill
He was huge … maybe the
biggest human being I’d ever
been that close to … a former
lineman for the Eagles. But that was the
past, because starting as of that hot,
humid August afternoon so many years
ago, he was the new head coach of the
sophomore football team at Proviso
East High School in Maywood, Ill.
Expectations were high for this group
of 15- and 16-year olds. As freshmen, the
team had gone undefeated in what, at that
time, was considered to be the toughest
conference in the state. And the games
were usually not close. By the second half
of most games, the second stringers were
getting the bulk of the playing time.
“Okay, you bunch of cream puffs,” he
bellowed at our very first meeting. “It’s
my job to turn you bunch of sissies into
real men. And believe me, it won’t take
me long to separate the real men from
the boys around here.”
We were dead silent, and while there
was this slight amount of fear just under
the surface, there was also the feeling
that we were going somewhere and that
the coach probably knew the best and
quickest way to get there. After all, there
was something to be said for becoming
a real man. I mean, we all knew we
couldn’t remain cream puffs forever.
“Start running,” he screamed as he
pointed to the quarter-mile oval track
that went around the football field, “and
don’t stop until I tell you to stop.”
After a few laps he stopped us, let us
get some water and then lined us up in
front of him.
“Are you tired? Are you hot?” he yelled.
Of course we were hot and tired. It was
90-something degrees and not a cloud in
the sky. We shook our heads in unison.
“Well, remember this,” he went on
yelling. “No one has ever drowned in
sweat. And furthermore, if you can’t
stand the heat then get out of the
kitchen. Now get back to running.”
Day after day he worked us without
mercy, screaming and cursing and constantly
reminding us that history had
yet to record a drowning death due to
sweat. If anyone dared to moan, he’d get
the standard “no pain, no gain” fired
back at him.
The man worked us like animals and
while we were the best-conditioned
team in the conference, we were also
without a win after our first five games.
One night, after a long and grueling
practice that concluded with the customary
two-mile run, our quarterback,
Tom Rush, spoke up.
“Coach,” he began, “I’m a little discouraged.
We haven’t won a game yet,
and this Saturday we’ve gotta face a
team that’s undefeated. We’re disorganized
on the field, our plays are third-rate
and we don’t always seem to have the
right people playing the right positions.
We’re gonna get killed!”
“Men,” the coach responded, “always
remember, from an aerodynamic point
of view, the bumblebee cannot fly. As for
you, Tom, if you were pulling on the
oars you wouldn’t have time to rock the
boat, so go back out there and run an
extra mile for me.”
The entire team stood silent to
see what Tom would do. We were
all totally spent and an extra mile
was just too much to ask. But before
he could move, the coach
came up with yet another of his
never-ending sayings.
“Tom,” he stated in that “knowit-all”
voice we’d all come to dread,
“in life, you’ll find that there’s no
traffic jam on the ‘extra mile.’”
Tom quit and so did several others. We
never won a single game that year and in
looking back on the experience I now realize
that the coach was like a lot of people
I’ve met over the years, particularly
in business. For you see, a lot of people
know the cute buzzwords and catchy
phrases of the business world. They talk
a good game and they wrap themselves
up in what seems to be worthwhile efforts
and preparation. But when the
game’s on the line, they really can’t perform.
Ultimately, they move on. I believe
the consulting world is filled with people
who know the words and have the
appearance of knowing what it takes to
succeed; they are, as the old coach would
most likely have said, “all show and no
go.”
I ran into Tom Rush the other day and
asked him if he had ever heard anything
about the coach. He said he had. Unfortunately,
it wasn’t good. Apparently the
coach was vacationing in Mexico last
summer when a bumblebee stung him
while he was bicycling along a dangerous
mountain road. He lost control and ran
over the edge, breaking both of his legs.
Funny thing, though; he had evidently
cycled exactly one mile past the hotel
where he was scheduled to spend the
night when the bee got him. I wonder if
he was sweating at the time. ■
Lyle R. Hill is president
of MTH Industries of Chicago.
Mr. Hill’s opinions are solely
his own and not necessarily
those of this magazine.
72 USGlass, Metal & Glazing | April 2008 www.usglassmag.com