Before You Lead, Learn to Watch

You can be a good second-in-command.

Or an assistant coach, which sounds more modern.

And use the role to make yourself better.

But you can also contribute nothing.

Or be the assistant whose goal is to take down the head coach.

And use the role to deliver the final blow.

Listen.

There are assistant coaches who are in way too much of a hurry to become head coaches.

Way too much.

They want to be in charge.

Make the decisions.

Pick the line-up.

Give the team talk.

Make the substitutions.

Set the philosophy.

Sit in the big chair.

And of course.

It’s normal.

We’re all drawn to that.

Because when coaching is your calling, you want to coach.

You want to have an impact.

You want to feel like the team is yours.

You want to live that responsibility.

That beautiful addiction.

But there’s a truth that doesn’t get talked about enough.

A lot of great head coaches start out as great assistants.

Not all of them.

But many.

Because being an assistant coach, if you do it right, doesn’t mean being behind someone.

It means watching from a privileged position.

A very privileged one.

The head coach is in the fire.

They decide.

They execute.

They lead.

They communicate.

They absorb the pressure.

They take care of the players.

They take care of the staff.

They take care of the game.

They take care of the result.

They take care of everything happening around the team.

And a lot of the time, they’re operating on autopilot.

Because there simply aren’t enough hours in the day.

Of course, they have moments to reflect.

But their day-to-day is packed with decisions.

And making decisions wears you down.

A lot.

The assistant, on the other hand, has a different vantage point.

Not a less important one.

A different one.

They have more space to observe.

To see.

To think.

To ask themselves questions.

To look at the head coach and think to themselves:

“I would’ve done that the same way.”

Or:

“I would’ve communicated that differently.”

Or:

“What a great job managing that moment.”

Or:

“The team needed something different there.”

That is worth its weight in gold.

But only if you’re paying attention.

Because you can also be an assistant and learn nothing.

You can stand next to someone and never really watch.

You can go through the season like a tracksuit-wearing companion.

You can complete your tasks.

Set up the cones.

Hand out the pinnies.

Clap.

And leave exactly the same way you arrived.

With more hours under your belt.

But not more judgment.

That’s the difference.

Being an assistant doesn’t make you a better coach.

Making the most of being an assistant does.

Because the assistant has the chance to watch the head coach from the inside, without being completely consumed by the final responsibility.

And that is a luxury.

A luxury that many people don’t understand.

From that position, you can study real leadership.

Not the kind you read about in books.

Not the kind from LinkedIn quotes.

Not the polished motivational speech.

Real leadership.

The kind that shows up when the team loses.

When you have to leave someone out.

When a player gets angry.

When the week goes sideways.

When the plan doesn’t work.

When the head coach has to choose between saying something or staying quiet.

Between stepping in or waiting.

Between pushing harder or protecting someone.

Between holding the group together or shaking it up.

That’s where the assistant learns.

...if they want to learn.

Because they get to see the tree and the forest.

The detail and the bigger picture.

And seeing both is far more valuable than judging from the sidelines.

From the outside, we’re all Guardiola with perfect Wi-Fi.

From the inside, not so much.

From the inside, you see doubts.

You see contradictions.

You see compromises.

You see decisions that don’t have a perfect answer.

You realize that coaching isn’t about choosing between black and white.

A lot of the time, it’s about choosing between two shades of grey.

And doing it quickly.

And doing it with conviction.

And owning the decision.

For a future head coach, that is a brutal school.

But it requires humility.

Real humility.

Not fake humility.

The humility to watch in order to learn, not to compare yourself.

Because if you walk into an assistant role thinking all day:

“I would do this differently.”

You may learn very little.

Of course you would do it differently.

You are you.

They are them.

The interesting question isn’t whether you would do it differently.

The interesting questions are:

“Why did they do it this way?”

“What did they see that I didn’t?”

“What outcome are they looking for?”

“What impact did it have?”

“What can I take from this for the day it’s my turn?”

That’s where you grow.

That’s where judgment begins to develop.

That’s where you start building your own map.

Not by copying.

Not by blindly obeying.

Not by judging from the position of superiority that comes from not having to sign off on the decision.

By observing.

Filtering.

Learning.

Incorporating.

Discarding.

A good assistant isn’t an echo.

They’re not there to repeat whatever the head coach says.

And they’re not there to compete with them silently, either.

They’re there to serve the team.

The staff.

The process.

And their own development, too.

Because that position allows you to see things you don’t see as a head coach.

As the head coach, you’re too deep in it.

As the assistant, you have a little more distance.

And distance, when you use it well, gives you clarity.

That’s why some coaches who have been good assistants are better prepared when their time comes to become head coaches.

Not because they’ve been sitting around waiting for their turn.

But because they’ve been training their eyes.

And learning how to see is one of the most important things in this profession.

Watch how leadership works.

Watch how communication works.

Watch how decisions are made.

Watch how mistakes are managed.

Watch how pressure is handled.

Watch how the team is protected.

Watch how a week is built.

Watch how you compete from the bench.

And then, when your time comes, you’re not starting from zero.

You have a backpack full of experience.

You have reference points.

You have lessons learned.

You have someone else’s scars that can serve you, too.

That is, if you’ve really been watching.

Because being an assistant isn’t a waiting room.

It’s a university.

But there’s no kind professor.

No neat set of notes.

No diploma.

And there’s an exam every weekend.

So if you’re an assistant, don’t experience it as a lesser position.

See it as a privileged one.

Observe.

Ask questions.

Learn.

Challenge yourself from within.

Not to be difficult.

To grow.

Because before you learn how to lead, it’s worth learning how to watch.

And many of those who are in a hurry today to sit in the big chair…

might need to spend a little more time learning how to see from the chair next to it.

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