Bad coaches and managers get freaked out when the scoreboard looks bad. They react by micromanaging and criticizing team members about the "bad numbers". They instruct the team to work harder and "get their numbers up." They remind the team that "their" results are unacceptable. The team members may react by working harder but also become tense, worried and unhappy and in the long run underperform and/or quit. The bad coaches let the scoreboard control them.
 
The great competitive coaches and managers like keeping score. They know they must win to keep their job. They enjoy winning and thrive on competition. When the numbers are not to their liking, they calmly focus on the specific processes that are not working and work with team members to make improvements. They do the same thing when the scoreboard looks good. The team members respond by staying calm and doing the work necessary to improve results. In the long run there is constant improvement and a happy team. The great coaches do not let the scoreboard control them.
 
In his terrific book, Hard Work with Tim Crothers, Hall of Fame North Carolina Coach, Roy Williams, describes how he manages the scoreboard:
 
"I try not to look at the score in the first half, because I don't want that to influence my thinking about how we're playing. Sometimes if a team is taking bad shots and they're making them, a coach could be fooled into thinking his team is playing better than it really is and that just leads to problems later. I try to look at the big picture and focus most on our rebounding and our defense. I have always hoarded timeouts. I've said that when I die, I'm going to have more timeouts left than any other coach.
 
In the second half, I start checking the score once the clock gets down to the eight-minute mark because by that time we have two opponents: the clock and the other team. That's when I'm usually pretty happy that I have lots of timeouts left to manage the end of the game.
 
When the game is over, I tell my players they must beat me to the locker room. I don't ever want the whole team waiting around for one guy talking to his girlfriend. I usually give them some quick thoughts on the game and no matter how well we played, I can never be totally satisfied. Even after our best games, I'll say, "Everybody remember the easy one you missed, remember the time you lost your man on defense, remember the time you didn't box out."
 
If we lose, I usually apologize to them and tell them it's my fault and I must do better.
 
Then we put our hands in and I say a prayer. I always end that prayer by saying, "We do realize we're more fortunate than others. Amen."
 
Roy Williams does not let the scoreboard control him.
 
Do you let the scoreboard control you?

​The career of Hall of Fame North Carolina Coach Roy Williams did not start well. In 1973 he became the coach at Owen High School. His first season the team was 2-19, the second season 6-16 and his third season the team started 1-3. He lost his confidence. In his terrific book, Hard Work with Tim Crothers, Coach Williams recounted what happened next:
 
I talked to Carl Conley, who was a friend and a coach as well, and I said, "I don't know if I'm made out to do this stuff or not. Since the ninth grade this is all that I've ever wanted to do, but am I doing what I should be doing?" Carl told me to stick with it and that he really believed I was meant to be a coach. That was the only time I have ever doubted myself.
 
I felt like I was working hard, teaching the right drills, and preaching the right sermons and I thought that we should be able to win, but the other teams were not cooperating. I started questioning myself. Why are we not winning? That was a long weekend of soul searching.
 
On Monday I told the players to be at practice a half hour early for a meeting. In the meeting I said, "Guys, we're too good to be this bad. We've got too much potential to be doing this, but everybody's got to be willing to buy in. I want people to say whatever is on your mind right now. Let's get everything off our chests."
 
The little sophomore point guard, Kerner Long, said, "I think I should be able to shoot more. All you ever tell me to do is throw it inside to Bobby." I said, "That's right, because that's what's going to be best for our team."
 
Another guy told me he thought he should play more. I had to tell him he didn't play because he wasn't as good as the guys ahead of him. That made him cry, and I almost started crying there with him. We aired a lot of things that needed to be said, needed to be out in the open, so that I could explain why we were doing what we did.
 
There were some negative and some positive comments, but it established a better relationship among the players and gave them confidence that I would listen to their concerns and not just say, "I'm the coach, shut up and do what I tell you." It made them believe that they could trust me.
 
It was a very emotional meeting, the first time I'd really gotten the kids to be honest with me. That meeting saved the season and, who knows, maybe saved me as well. After that, we won nine games in a row. It restored my faith that I could get everybody to accept their roles and work together for a common goal."
 
In the book, The Seven Secrets of Successful Coaches by Jeff Janssen, Coach Williams described how he still uses the same approach as a College Coach:
 
"Well, I bring the kids in and we close the door. I say, "Okay when I close that door you can say anything you want to say from 'Coach, you're not playing me enough' to 'You're a bad coach,' to 'I'm fine, everything's perfect." They can say if they don't think they're improving.
 
Before they leave I will either agree with them or explain to them why I don't agree with them and they just must understand that I'm being truthful. I try to never blow smoke with my players. I tell them what they need to hear, not what they want to hear. I tell them the truth. When I was in high school, Buddy Baldwin told me, "If you tell the truth, you won't have to remember what you said."
 
How do you have direct honest communication?