Thursday, February 17, 2011

Dynamics of Conflict and Resolution

I coach my 13-year-old sons' basketball team.  At practice recently, in preparation for a big game, I got into a battle with my point guard son, Ryan.  You know Ryan.  You love him.  He might even work for you.  He's your hard-nosed, never-say-die "coach on the floor" whose grit, stubbornness, and will to succeed - the very qualities that allow you to lean on him so heavily - occasionally cause friction between you that jeopardizes your relationship.

I arrived at practice still tense from work that day, and early on I needled Ryan when he held the ball too long on a fast break.  He shot me a glance as if to say, "Ouch, where did that come from?"  A moment later, in the exact same situation, he made the exact same mistake, and I barked at him loudly.  Ryan rolled his eyes, as if to say, "Really, are you going to ride me like this all practice?"

Then, on the very next possession, the moment he collected the ball in the back court, Ryan purposely flung it far out of reach of his teammate up ahead, as if to say, "There, did I get rid of it soon enough that time, Coach?" 

I was shocked and pissed.  No kid in any practice I had ever run had been so blatantly disrespectful.  I didn’t think.  I just reacted by blowing my whistle and said, "Ryan, on the line. You’re going to run."  In a fit of rage, Ryan drop-kicked the ball against the far wall and raced out of the gym.  The scene was raw and visibly tense.  I didn’t have any idea what to do.  My assistant (I think of him as my own personal Shooter from the movie Hoosiers) eventually prodded Ryan back into practice, but it wasn't until the end.  Ryan never ran his "suicide" for his outburst.  Practice ended.  Oh shit.  Now what?

On the ride home, Ryan, sensing my conundrum, apologized profusely, but I knew (and he probably knew) I needed to do something to respond to his outburst. 

The next day, after a sleepless night, I told him that he would sit out the 1st quarter of our next game.  After some tearful pleading, Ryan (and my wife) stopped speaking to me – right up until game time.

During my pre-game talk with the team, I told everyone about Ryan’s punishment.   They glanced down at Ryan, who angrily glared at the wall.  I told the team that I behaved poorly as well, and that this could safely be characterized as punishment for me.  Ryan continued to glare.

Ryan's sullen behavior extended into the pre-game warm-up, and I mentioned to Shooter that if he didn’t pull it together and take on his typical emotional leadership role on this team, I might be forced to sit him beyond the 1st quarter. 

I was struck by how uncertain I felt.  What would I say to him?  What if his moodiness persisted, and I kept him out of the game?  Would this be the first step in a precipitous slide out of the starting lineup and to the end of the bench?  Would our relationship off the court remain strained?  How does this end or at least get better?

Ever been there with your Ryan?  Found yourself backed into one of those awful little corners with one of your favorite people?  Worried that one wrong word or shift in the discussion might turn what should have been a minor issue into a bigger, perhaps irreversible one?

Here’s what I did:  I had Ryan to come over to the bench while the teams were still warming up, and quietly said:
Listen, I know this sucks – it sucks for me too – and I know you’re pissed.  This is almost over, but I need you to conjure up some support and enthusiasm for your team here, especially while you’re sitting out.  They’re all watching us closely, and I can’t put it behind us unless we get through this the right way.
Ryan nodded tersely, and re-entered warm-ups.  When he thought I wasn’t looking, he clapped hard and shouting encouraging words to his teammates.  He continued this positive behavior through a hard-fought 1st quarter.  Ultimately, we won the game, and Ryan played great. 

Ryan bailed me out and made my decision to put him in to start the 2nd quarter easy.  But what if he hadn’t?  Just because I was the “coach” and the “adult” didn’t mean I had all the answers.  It certainly didn’t mean that I held all the cards.  Ryan had cards to play too, and I wasn’t sure what they were or how he would play them.  A poorly-played card here or there could have led to a much worse outcome.  There's no coaching manual for situations like that.

Luck had a hand here.

It worked out this time.  But maybe next time I won’t be so lucky.

About Sean O'Neil
Sean O’Neil is Principal and CEO of One to One Leadership (www.one2oneleadership.com), a sales and management training firm with clients that include the National Basketball Association, Major League Soccer, News Corporation, First Data, ADP, Xerox, the Oakland Raiders and the New York Knicks.  Sean and John Kulisek co-authored Bare Knuckle People Management:  Creating Success with the Team You Have – Winners, Losers, Misfits and All, which is due to be published in May 2011.  Sean has contributed to or been featured in, among others, The New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Selling Power Magazine and Incentive Magazine.