The Ten Principles of Leadership I Learned from Coach Wooden

Principle 9: Details Make the Difference
Swen Nater

It was on the verge of embarrassing, going to lunch at Fromin’s Delicatessen with Coach Wooden. I love that place though. The moment we walked in, I was pleasantly met by the soothing aroma of mouth-watering chicken soup with matzo balls. Instantly, I felt at home.  The host, a kind lady, greeted us. “Hello, Coach. How are you? And who is this tall gentleman with you? Is he one of your players?” I couldn’t blame her for not knowing me; when I played at UCLA, she was playing in her crib, watching our games through the spokes, on a black and white TV. She led us directly to a window booth without asking where we’d like to sit. Obviously, Coach had his favorite spot. We were given water and handed menus accompanied by a formal invitation to enjoy ourselves.

We perused our menus. Actually, I perused my menu. Coach didn’t even open his; he knew what he wanted. Now from my experience, once the customers have their water and menus, it is customary and generally good restaurant etiquette, for the waiter or waitress to come over after everyone has closed their menus. I still had mine open when she approached the booth. Was she in a hurry? Of course. Coach had trained those servants to be quick, just like he trained his players. I thought, ‘Hello! I’m still on page one, barely past the Cold Sandwiches section. What happened to the “wait” in waitress?’ But I had my eye on that Hot Corned Beef Sandwich (whole, not half) and the Matzo Ball Chicken soup (bowl, not cup). Coach was buying. 

“And what would you like, Coach,” asked the waitress. This is where it got on the brink of embarrassing.

“Young lady, I’ll have the Tuna Fish Sandwich.” Before she could ask what kind of bread Coach wanted, he said, “I’ll have that on Rye and toasted.” Again, she was about to say something but Coach went on (She acquiesced by pushing her shoulders forward a little and shifting her weight to the other knee), “Now mind you, I’d like it toasted to a golden brown, but not too brown and certainly not too light. Can you do that?”

She said, “Yes, of course.”

He continued, “I’m not sure if I want the macaroni salad or the coleslaw. Who made the macaroni salad? Was it (he mentioned the cook’s name but I can’t remember because I was trying to get my jaw back up off the floor)? She confirmed it was not, so he ordered the coleslaw.  I’m not going to go through the rest of it but he took plenty of time for me to decide what I wanted. I ordered the Corned Beef on Rye. The exhausted waitress, shifted her weight back to the other knee and asked me if I wanted macaroni salad or coleslaw. I didn’t really care but I chose the macaroni salad. We waited for our food.

Ever gone car shopping? Two cars can look very much alike on the outside. Headlights, taillights, door handles, paint, instruments, and the bells and whistles operate well in both cars. When starting them up, both engines purr like well-oiled sewing machines. Both good cars, right? Yet, one will go 250,000 miles and the other will be in the junk yard in ten years. What’s the difference? The difference is in what you cannot see on the surface. It’s in the workmanship, gauge of metal, quality of the nuts and bolts, quantity of nuts and bolts, and the value of all the other little things that hold it together. The difference is in the detail.

In any organization, attention to detail always starts at the top and filters down. Coach Wooden once told me,

The difference between the number one and number two teams is attention to detail.

Coach was more detailed than anyone I have ever known, as you might guess from the story about Fromin’s. As I look back to the UCLA days, it was Coach Wooden’s consistent and sustained modeling and monitoring of detail that created the same habit in us players. That culture led to championships. Details make the difference.

You may be thinking by “detail” I mean the fine points of the fundamentals of basketball. However, long before our first practice, we were introduced to doing everything the right way, every time. Many have heard that Coach taught us how to put on our socks. In his book, Wooden on Leadership, co-written with Steve Jamison, Coach explains that his practice and teaching of details began with the sock demonstration. But it really started a half-hour before that. The sock demonstration took place during our first and only team meeting, two weeks before the first practice. The details started by being on time for that meeting. About one-half hour in, Coach had us take off our shoes and socks. He showed us the step-by-step method for putting on our socks. The purpose was to eliminate blisters. A blister may mean missing a game and that could result in the team not performing as it could.

I’d like to say that I was totally into Coach’s performance but I wasn’t. I kept thinking, ‘Come on! I’ve been doing this since I was eight (maybe a little sooner but not much)! Let’s get on the court.’ He also demonstrated how to tie the shoe, one step at a time, so the tension on the laces was evenly-spread and it was the correct tension, not too tight and not too loose. Again I thought, ‘What does this have to do with scoring points?’ I would soon find out, great leaders are detailed in everything they do, not just in the functions of the job, and when that trait becomes contagious to the point where employees take it on, productivity increases. 

Another example of Coach Wooden’s habit of detail was our pre-game meal. It was always the same: A 16 oz New York steak, Baked potato with two slices of butter, Two slices of Melba Toast, A cup of peas, and a Fruit cup. Everything was measured to the ounce.

It was no surprise to me that his attention to detail carried over to the practice session. Practice started at 2:59, not 3:00 and ended at 5:29, not 5:30. He taught the fundamentals with the precision of a brain surgeon. “Elbow above the ear at finish, feet a little wider than the shoulders, and chin up.” “When you make your cut, step on the elbow of the key.” We had this drill called, “The Three-on-Two Conditioner.” You entered the play by coming from out of bounds at half court and touching the center circle. You would not have wanted to be the guy that missed it by an inch. Inches missed were inches away from being the best. His detail was in everything and for an entire season. He never let up. 

When we first enrolled at UCLA, I don’t believe any of us were in the habit of paying attention to detail, at least not to that degree. But in time, we caught on. At some point I became convinced that those little things, when added up, ended up being a big factor. As it turned out, that big factor was the difference between being number one and two. In both of the finals I was a part of, we didn’t beat ourselves; the other team beat itself with costly turnovers that we took full advantage of.

Was Coach Wooden’s insistence on punctuality, putting on the socks, and tying the shoes the difference between number one and two? You decide. We saw that kind of thing day in and day out. He picked up trash outside Pauley Pavilion, had us put the balls away after a drill, and helped us clean the locker room before leaving the gym we visited. Great leaders model and monitor detail, even when it seems, to the novice, to be irrelevant to the bottom line. They will soon know, details are the difference between being first or second. 

I work for Costco. Presently, I’m in the buying office but I started my career in the warehouse. My first day at the Aurora, Washington, Costco, I was walking through the building with the manager, Ray Allen. As we started down the first aisle, Ray saw a small piece of paper on the floor. He picked it up. Later, I discovered that this practice began with our CEO, Jim Sinegal, years before that, when Costco was opening its first warehouse. Today, every Costco employee is committed to detail and it started with a small piece of paper. For us at UCLA, it started with being on time, how to put on your socks, and how to lace your shoes.

The Piece of Paper
Swen Nater

While I was walking down the street,
And passed an adolescent man,
I picked a piece of paper up,
And gently placed it in a can.

I saw that he had stopped to stare,
To wonder why and to appraise.
I smiled at him and he at me,
And we went on our separate ways.

And as I turned to take a look,
That little boy, that little man,
Reached down and picked some paper up,
And placed it gently in a can.

The waitress brought us our sandwiches and salads. Coach Wooden watched me carefully and, after I took my first bite of macaroni salad he asked, “A little too much vinegar, right? I only eat it when the other cook makes it.” I looked around to make sure the waitress wasn’t listening.