The Ten Principles of Leadership I Learned from Coach Wooden

Principle 5: Create a Family
Swen Nater

The early 1970s was the time of the miniskirt and every day, UCLA was like a Miniskirt Fashion Show. The best seat in the house was on Bruin Walk, a long stretch of asphalt that started at the Student Union and ended at the top of the hill where all the classrooms were. There, girls displayed their petite garments and guys stopped to judge. No class credit was given to Mini Skirt watching, but we didn’t mind. Education was education, credit or not. We were dedicated students and committed to learning. 

The guys positioned themselves at the start of the runway and, when an experienced and good-looking girl began her ascent, they followed, grading her on fit, glide, and creativity. But once in a while, a girl would take a right turn and head for the long and steep stairway that led to the Student Union. As soon as she made her turn, guys, like vultures, circled and converged to the area at the bottom of the steps, where the view was best and they could judge with the most accuracy. On one occasion, I was one of them.

When the girl arrived on the tenth step, I was so in awe of her polished skill, I was literally in a trance, oblivious to everything else around me. When she approached the midway point of her inclined runway, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I thought it was one of the guys about to say, “One of the best, don’t you think?” But it was not one of the guys; it was Coach Wooden. I should have known he would spot me out, me being almost seven-feet tall. I thought, ‘How can I convince Coach that this is an art?’ I couldn’t. So I turned toward him, trying to put on an expression that communicated normality, and said, “Hi, Coach.” That’s when he said, “Swen, what are you doing?”

I was a quick thinker and said, “Coach, I’m looking for Russ,” knowing he wouldn’t buy the “art” thing. During the summer, I earned money by working for Russ on campus, but I stayed in touch during the school year. Coach knew Russ.

Coach looked up to the top of the steps, where the Mini Skirt Supermodel approached the pinnacle of her performance, and said, “Well, Swen, I don’t think you’re going to find Russ up that girl’s skirt.”

Great leaders care about those that work with them, not only as employees, but as people. They know where the boundaries are, but they, like parents, guide their workers in the areas of morality and civility, for example. They also take an active interest in the lives of their personnel, like family, hobbies, and dreams. They rejoice with them, hurt with them, and show concern when it is needed. In this way, leaders become the head of a kind of “family” at work. This is exactly why Coach Wooden got away from the office and out on the campus. He wanted to be involved in our lives, not to the point where he told us when to brush our teeth or what clothes to wear. However, he did teach us how to tie our shoes and put on our socks properly.

At one time or another, Coach played the role of father figure for all of us. Among us players, there are countless stories that will second what I’m saying, one of which is rather well-known. Bill Walton protested the Viet Nam War by taking part in a protest by lying down in the middle of Wilshire Boulevard, a very busy street in west Los Angeles. Coach talked to him and, after listening to Bill’s reasoning, he convinced him to write a letter to President Nixon. Coincidentally, the United States withdrew its troops shortly thereafter.

Catching us doing things wrong was not the only way Coach practiced being a father to us. He also made it a point to warn us, so that we would avoid error. For example, during the pre-season, the last thing he told us before we left the floor after practice was, “You have worked hard on conditioning, but you can tear yourself down between practices more than you can build yourself up during.” That helped make me eat well and leave the dormitory recreation room at a reasonable hour.

And, like a father, he praised us when we did things right. For example, once or twice a season, Coach would read us a letter he received from a custodian that worked for a school we had recently visited for a game. Those custodians told him they appreciated how clean we had left the locker rooms. His smile, after he read the letters, made us feel good about ourselves. We had pleased our father.

Leadership is more than helping people do their jobs and making them successful workers. It’s even more than taking the time to make workers feel like they are making a difference, as important as that is. The real leader is like a father and takes a genuine and heart-felt interest in the lives of those under his or her supervision. They study people for one reason: To find ways to help them develop into successful individuals, equipped with ingrained principles of morality, consideration for others, and a dispositional default to what is right. In this way, those leaders become the head of a family and, in time, develop that family into one where people trust each other, like to be around each other, and look out for each other, just as the leader has done. 

By the way, since that day I helped judge the UCLA Mini Skirt Fashion Show, I didn’t do that anymore. From that point on, when I passed the Student Union steps on my way to class, I kept going, although I may have taken a glance or two to see if Russ was there.