Part 2 (1/2)

All I could do was laugh. Though mindfulness meditation has its roots in Buddhism, it's an easily accessible technique for quieting the restless mind and focusing attention on whatever is happening in the present moment. This is extremely useful for basketball players, who often have to make split-second decisions under enormous pressure. I also discovered that when I had the players sit in silence, breathing together in sync, it helped align them on a nonverbal level far more effectively than words. One breath equals one mind.

Another aspect of Buddhist teachings that has influenced me is the emphasis on openness and freedom. The Zen teacher Shunryu Suzuki likened the mind to a cow in a pasture. If you enclose the cow in a small yard, it will become nervous and frustrated and start eating the neighbor's gra.s.s. But if you give it a large pasture to roam around in, it will be more content and less likely to break loose. For me, this approach to mental discipline has been enormously refres.h.i.+ng, compared to the restricted way of thinking ingrained in me as a child.

I've also found that Suzuki's metaphor can be applied to managing a team. If you place too many restrictions on players, they'll spend an inordinate amount of time trying to buck the system. Like all of us, they need a certain degree of structure in their lives, but they also require enough lat.i.tude to express themselves creatively. Otherwise they'll start behaving like that penned-in cow.

7. THE KEY TO SUCCESS IS COMPa.s.sION

In his new adaptation of the Chinese sacred text Tao Te Ching, Stephen Mitch.e.l.l offers a provocative take on Lao-tzu's approach to leaders.h.i.+p:

I have just three things to teach:

simplicity, patience, compa.s.sion.

These three are the greatest treasures.

Simple in actions and thoughts,

you return to the source of being.

Patient with both friends and enemies,

you accord with the way things are.

Compa.s.sionate toward yourself,

you reconcile all beings in the world.

All of these ”treasures” have been integral to my coaching, but compa.s.sion has been the most important. In the West we tend to think of compa.s.sion as a form of charity, but I share Lao-tzu's view that compa.s.sion for all beings-not least of all oneself-is the key to breaking down barriers among people.

Now, ”compa.s.sion” is a word not often bandied about in locker rooms. But I've found that a few kind, thoughtful words can have a strong transformative effect on relations.h.i.+ps, even with the toughest men on the team.

Because I started as a player, I've always been able to empathize with young men facing the harsh realities of life in the NBA. Most players live in a state of constant anxiety, worrying about whether they're going to be hurt or humiliated, cut or traded, or, worst of all, make a foolish mistake that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. When I was with the Knicks, I was sidelined for more than a year with a debilitating back injury. That experience allowed me to talk with players I've coached from personal experience about how it feels when your body gives out and you have to ice every joint after a game, or even sit on the bench for an entire season.

Beyond that, I think it's essential for athletes to learn to open their hearts so that they can collaborate with one another in a meaningful way. When Michael returned to the Bulls in 1995 after a year and a half of playing minor-league baseball, he didn't know most of the players and he felt completely out of sync with the team. It wasn't until he got into a fight with Steve Kerr at practice that he realized he needed to get to know his teammates more intimately. He had to understand what made them tick, so that he could work with them more productively. That moment of awakening helped Michael become a compa.s.sionate leader and ultimately helped transform the team into one of the greatest of all time.

8. KEEP YOUR EYE ON THE SPIRIT, NOT ON THE SCOREBOARD

Management guru Stephen Covey tells this old j.a.panese tale about a samurai warrior and his three sons: The samurai wanted to teach his sons about the power of teamwork. So he gave each of them an arrow and asked them to break it. No problem. Each son did it easily. Then the samurai gave them a bundle of three arrows bound together and asked them to repeat the process. But none of them could. ”That's your lesson,” the samurai said. ”If you three stick together, you will never be defeated.”

This story reflects just how strong a team can be when each of its members surrenders his self-interest for the greater good. When a player isn't forcing a shot or trying to impose his personality on the team, his gifts as an athlete most fully manifest. Paradoxically, by playing within his natural abilities, he activates a higher potential for the team that transcends his own limitations and helps his teammates transcend theirs. When this happens, the whole begins to add up to more than the sum of its parts.

Example: We had a player on the Lakers who loved to chase down b.a.l.l.s on defense. If his mind was focused on scoring points at the other end of the floor instead of on making steals, he wouldn't be able to perform either task very well. But when he committed himself to playing defense, his teammates covered for him on the other end, because they knew intuitively what he was going to do. Then, all of a sudden, everybody was able to hit their rhythm, and good things began to happen.

Interestingly, the other players weren't consciously aware that they were antic.i.p.ating their teammate's behavior. It wasn't an out-of-body experience or anything like that. But somehow, mysteriously, they just sensed what was going to happen next and made their moves accordingly.

Most coaches get tied up in knots worrying about tactics, but I preferred to focus my attention on whether the players were moving together in a spirited way. Michael Jordan used to say that what he liked about my coaching style was how patient I remained during the final minutes of a game, much like his college coach, Dean Smith.