The Most Selfish Thing I Have Ever Done as a Coach…was to surrender everything that mattered to me — to stop being a user of players and become a developer of players. I became a coach more interested in investing in others than in what they could give or do for me.

In a twist of irony, what I once considered the most selfless thing I could do — pointing my players beyond their performance and toward the identity they were given by their Creator — became the most selfish act of all. Not because it served my pride, protected my control, or advanced my agenda, but because I finally surrendered those things and gained a reward far beyond what I could have imagined.

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.” — Philippians 2:3-4

For years, players were commodities to me. Of course, I cared about them and invested in them beyond the field. I worked to grow their character, and one player even compared me to Lou Holtz, one of the best compliments I have ever received! Outwardly I looked solid, but inside I knew the truth: it was about me. It was about my pride.

“When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.” — Proverbs 11:2

Looking back, it was always about my reputation, winning, and being seen as a “good coach.” Winning is not evil, and I firmly believe we were created to compete, but the result can’t be the purpose. It’s honestly easier to just outscore the other team, but the pursuit of excellence and playing to a standard is a far greater calling.

We all have an origin story that has shaped us. Mine is similar to that of many competitive athletes and Enneagram 8s, who are driven to prove themselves and their worthiness of the opportunity, compete in a way most can’t muster, and take pride in that “edge.” I hated to lose more than I loved to win.

That drive made me successful in the temporary realm of sports, but it made me a failure in long-term relationships. So the most selfish thing I ever did as a coach was to give up the pursuit of self and invest in others — to operate out of humility and find my pride in seeing others thrive while I faded into the background.

Jesus modeled this perfectly. When His disciples were arguing about who was the greatest, He didn’t rebuke the ambition — He redefined it:

“Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave — just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” — Matthew 20:26-28

I discovered a redemptive form of selfishness, and the reward has been beyond anything I could have imagined. Elevating others and loving them beyond what they can do on the field has been the greatest blessing of my coaching career. Seeing them as people instead of paid performers, and pointing them toward their identity beyond what they do and into how they were created, became the most selfish move of all. It produced the enduring fulfillment of transformed lives instead of the temporary satisfaction of the transactions I had settled for.

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” — Ephesians 2:10

When we coach players toward who they were made to be — not just what they can perform — we’re participating in something eternal.

Winning still matters. Pursuing excellence is still important. But neither is my purpose anymore. When coaches hear this, most say you can’t win that way — that you can’t care more about your players than about driving them to win.

My response is always a question: “How do you define success?” It sounds like we’re operating with different scoreboards. What’s your scoreboard?

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.” — Colossians 3:23

I want to witness and cultivate changed lives. I want to impact the people I work with in a way that leaves them better — as leaders, as parents, as spouses, as people.

Now that I have experienced the depth of relationships, the changed lives, and the joy of paying that impact forward, I can’t live any other way. Selfishly, I want more of it.