America’s Coach: Minnesota Minute Man, Tim Walz

From Friday Night Lights to Ted Lasso, the archetype of the coach occupies a special niche in American culture, but one that before now has not been a part of our political discourse. We have long celebrated the mythology of the cowboy, a lone, self-reliant figure on the plains, but in real life, an individual can’t move cattle. It took a team and teams didn’t work without coaching. When democracy is teetering, what the country needs more than ever is an inspiring speech, innovative half-time adjustments to the game plan, and bringing in fresh legs off the bench. America is looking for a coach.

So, it was striking Vice President Harris’ introduction of her new running mate, Governor Tim Walz, emphasized many parts of his biography—his youth on the family farm, his service in the Army National Guard, his time as a Congressman, and his tenure as a high school social studies teacher—but most of all, she spent an a delightful amount of time highlighting his turn as a high school football coach who won a state championship.

The traditional picture of a politician is an Ivy League educated lawyer with the wealth and connections needed to be a part of the Brahmin class. Those who have long been in positions of benefit were given the privilege of making and executing our laws.

In the aftermath of Watergate, when trust in government plummeted, the icon that was most touted as its proper replacement was the business person. Public spending is out of control, we were told. Social services are inefficient, they yelled. To get the government working again, we needed to run it like a business because businesses are innovative, lean, and financially responsible.

The market person model has not fared well.  Public companies and corporations exist for one thing and one thing only, shareholder profit, not the well-being of the society not the flourishing of the workers, not welling life for consumers. A A great business person—Americans were taught in the Gordon Geko 1980s – is ruthless, greedy, takes advantage of others, corners the marketplace, and cares only for his own bottom line. If you can cheat consumers, shortchange those laboring in your factory, and crush the competition (no matter how), good for you. Profits go up. Share prices go up. And that is the only element that matters.

But the coach is unique. The coach is a leader with several very different goals. Above all, the coach cares about victory. But, as every team athlete has heard many times, we win as a team. The coach cares about the team, about finding how each can contribute in their own way so that the unit is as strong as possible. The unsuccessful coach has a system and forces the athletes into it. The good coach knows their players and comes up with a scheme that plays to their strength to maximize team chemistry.

Former Duke men’s basketball coach Mike Krzyzeski (Coach K) was the master at building winning teams. This is a coach who harmonized unique capabilities, developing individuals, growing their talents, but also showing they’re individually at their best when working together.

ESPN’s documentary, “I hate Christian Laettner” showcases Coach K’s greatness. Laettner is remembered as one of the greatest college basketball players. He was also an a-hole. Teammates hated him, including Bobby Hurley, one of Duke’s great point guards who worked harmonizing with Laettner, game after game over four years. They won two national championships and went to four final fours together.

In the ESPN documentary, Coach K described Laettner as fire needing managing. Without managing fire, everything could burn up. With coaching, the fire keeps one warm, and on top. Coack K said he’ll take the fire any day over no fire. We all watched as he coached individuals into a squad led by an egocentric a-hole who understood that if he were to be an exceptional individual, he had to harmonize, establish chemistry with others. Without Coach K, Laettner may have burned it all down.

Coach K knew how to grow a team, understanding a coach must first focus on the parts. The coach mentors his players, teaching teamwork, responsibility, and sportsmanship. We will only win if we play the game the right way, respect the game. And to accomplish that, each player must respect themselves.

John Wooden, the legendary coach of the UCLA men’s basketball, is perhaps the goat coach of college basketball. Wooden’s UCLA teams won 7 straight national championships, 10 overall. Like all great coaches, he brought in fire. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Gail Goodrich, Henry Bibby, and Bill Walton, for example. In Wooden’s words, one’s teammates makes one an individual. Players do not individuate themselves without the help of others. Wooden analogizes this orientation to a car.

“I told players at UCLA that we, as a team, are like a powerful car. Maybe a Bill Walton or Kareem Abdul-Jabbar or Michael Jordan is the big engine, but if one wheel is flat, we’re going no place. And if we have brand new tires but the lug nuts are missing, the wheels come off. What good is the powerful engine now? It’s no good at all. A lug nut may seem like a little thing, but it’s not. There’s a role that each and every one of us must play. We may aspire to what we consider to be a larger role, or a more important role, but we cannot achieve that until we show that we are able to fulfill the role we are assigned. It’s these little things that make the big things happen. The big engine is not going to work unless the little things are being done properly.”

While coaches are mentors, they also have to be tough. They hold you responsible for your failures. They tell you straight when you are messing up. And they make the hard decisions, benching starters who are not getting the job done and cutting others from the team.

Arizona Hall of Fame Coach Lute Olson would sometimes bench an unruly superstar, even if it cost the game. When once playing Marquette, highly ranked Arizona lost in the last minutes. They wouldn’t have fallen if Olson hadn’t benched his star, Salim Stoudamire, whom Olson felt had a sour, scowling look on his face when he (Stoudamire) or the unit struggled. Olson needed him to lead, not absent himself or try to do too much in a challenging game when down on the team or himself. Coach Olson knew Stoudamire was a great player when he understood his responsibilities for other components supporting him, like the wheels of a car.

Our collective mythology of rugged individuality has misled us into thinking that strength comes from acting alone. Yet, we are better together if we do not work at cross-purposes, but have a coherent game plan and know our roles that play to our strengths. But that takes a coach, and maybe that is what we have in Tim Walz.

Co-written with Gettysburg College Jewish Studies Professor Steve Gimbel, author of Einstein’s Jewish Science, a one time  finalist for the American Jewish National Book Award.