Over winter break, I was listening to a radio broadcast of the Outback Bowl between Florida and Penn State.
During a lull in the action, the announcers discussed 46-year-old Florida head coach Urban Meyer, who was planning to retire after the game to spend more time with his family. The radio announcers mentioned that Meyer was a particularly driven coach who believed that “self-reflection is a sign of weakness,” adding that he never returned phone calls from his former players during the season.
Whether Meyer actually believes in the Neanderthal ethos that self-reflection is a sign of weakness, I don’t know. My own Internet searches didn’t turn up any quotes on the subject from Meyer. It’s entirely possible that the radio hosts were exaggerating and/or just plain wrong.
Either way, the idea that self-reflection is something to be discouraged was striking. And it made me think of Duke basketball coach Mike Krzyzewski.
Meyer and Krzyzewski are similar in a number of ways. Each is (arguably in Meyer’s case, unquestionably in Krzyzewski’s case) the best coach in his respective sport. Each has demonstrated an ability to adapt his team’s style of play to best suit the players on his roster.
But they’re also very different. Meyer had to retire to spend time with his family; Krzyzewski has incorporated his into his basketball program. And while at least one radio announcer believes that Meyer chooses to abstain from self-reflection, Krzyzewski seems to take every opportunity to reflect.
After surpassing former UNC coach Dean Smith to win his 880th career game, Krzyzewski said, “When I walked out and saw it was a full house, and so many Duke fans, I did take a moment to reflect back to when I first got to North Carolina and there weren’t very many Duke shirts.”
And after Duke arrived in Indianapolis prior to last year’s Final Four, Krzyzewski mentioned that he and his wife, Mickie, pointed out the hotel that they stayed in during the 1991 Final Four as they drove from the airport into the city.
Although Krzyzewski’s broader reflection and Meyer’s narrow-mindedness mark the men as opposites, the fact that each has achieved extraordinary success suggests that one can rise to the top of a profession with either approach.
But Meyer’s success appears to have come at a greater cost than that of Krzyzewski. Krzyzewski is still going strong at age 63, 36 years into his coaching career; Meyer, meanwhile, is retiring young. If Meyer’s career has been a comet, blazing across the sky, Krzyzewski’s has been a star—a little less bright, but with greater staying power.
Perhaps the lesson here is that self-reflection is important.
All of us, by virtue of attending one of the world’s most elite and selective universities, are high achievers. Many of us will continue to be high achievers in the future. Like Meyer and Krzyzewski, we’ll excel in highly demanding jobs.
The question we’ll have to answer is whether we want to be like Krzyzewski or Meyer. Whether we want to be a comet or a star. Whether we’re willing to give up a small measure of success to be more enduring. Whether we choose to live a life of reflection or of single-minded focus.
As for me, I’d rather be Coach K. But of course, I’m biased.
Alex Fanaroff is a fourth-year medical student. His column runs every Wednesday.
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