John Wooden and Priorities

John Wooden and Priorities

 

I suppose it was on the farm in Indiana where John Wooden first learned priorities. If the field doesn’t get plowed at the right time, the soil won’t be ready for seeding. If the grass is not harvested at the right time, they quality of hay will be reduced. If the hay doesn’t get stored in the barn on time, the rains will spoil the bails.

 

As a coach, he also understood the importance of prioritizing. If recruiting is not finished by a certain date, you can’t create the offense and defense. If your master practice plan is not finished, you cannot create weekly plans. And weekly plans are essential for creating the daily practice plans. Equipment must be ordered, managers must be selected, and the all-important season game schedule must be set in stone by a certain time.

 

Coach Wooden often quoted Ben Franklin, “By failing to prepare, you prepare to fail.” He learned that early in his life and continued to excel in this area through his coaching career at UCLA.

 

Knowing this, it may not surprise you to learn, Coach Wooden placed his family at the top of the priority list, above coaching basketball, as time-consuming and demanding as that job might be. If you think I’m kidding, after practice was over, we couldn’t talk to the man. He and his coaching staff darted to his office for a short debriefing and Coach was in his car on his way home. Practice was over at 4:59 and Coach was home before six.

 

Like his father, he helped his children with their homework, ate dinner with his family, and read bedtime stories, while other coaches around the country were watching game films, practice films, and calling recruits.

 

When I discovered that, it inspired me to write this poem.

 

BIG THINGS, LITTLE THINGS

Swen Nater

 

“Daddy, come and play with me.”

He begged with outstretched hand.

He was so small—below my knee.

He didn’t understand.

 

I had far bigger things to do

Like further my career.

Instead of him, I chose to view

The corporate frontier.

 

“Later, son, I’ll be there soon,”

I hoped that would appease.

I had a meeting right at noon,

But heard, “Please, Daddy, please!”

 

“The babysitter’s waiting, son,”

I said, with plastic smile.

“She’ll read you books and let you run.”

“Dad, just a little while?” 

 

I tied my shoes and tied my tie,

And draped my suit coat on.

While from the floor, he caught my eye:

My one and only son.

 

“The Army guys in red are bad,

And the good guys are in blue.

I’ll let you be the good guys, Dad.

I’ll let you beat me too.”

 

“Rrrunga rrrunga rrrunga rrrung,

The bad guy’s tanks did blare,

And toward the good guys troops they sprung,

Who had no leader there.

 

Five or ten already dead;

The raid was under way,

Until the good guys’ general said,

“I’d better sit and play.”

 

The battle waged and fierce it was;

Both sides were holding fast.

There was no stop; there was no pause,

Just guns and tanks and blast.

 

I saw my watch and I was late,

“Son, pause this army brawl.”

He stared and I said, “Son, please wait!

I’ve got to make one call.”

 

I dialed the phone; he looked so sad.

I said, “It’s Larry Burr.

You know that twelve o’clock I had?

Well, I can’t make it sir.

 

“Yes, sir, I understand the cost.

Yes, sir, I’ll be surpassed.

But I’ll be poor if I have lost

A son who’s growing fast.

 

“I’ll see you in the morning, sir.

When day replaces night.

But now, will you excuse me, sir?

I’ve got a war to fight.”