Sometimes, all it takes is a new voice—just ask the Oilers.
And that’s not a bad thing—or anything that anyone should be offended or embarrassed by, especially when they’re in a leadership position, and it’s their voice that needs replacing.
Years ago, I learned this humble lesson when I asked another coach to act as what we call in rowing as a “finishing coach.” It’s where a new coach comes aboard to offer a fresh point of view and, quite often, a different way of saying what’s already been said.
As we prepared to head overseas for our final regatta of the season, one day, following an afternoon row, we stood around as a crew and discussed the practice. One of the athletes expressed that he was beginning to understand how to execute a term in rowing we call “blade-seat-timing.” It refers to the moment the blade enters the water at the beginning of the stroke relative to the change in direction of the seat under the rower. Ideally, you want both to happen at the same time.
“I think I’m finally figuring out this whole blade-seat-timing thing,” he shared quite excitedly.
“What’s helped you?” I asked, genuinely curious to understand what penny had dropped for him.
“Well,” he smiled sheepishly. “The way Christine explained it today—suggesting that I raise my hands while approaching the catch. I’ve never understood that until now!”
Surprised, I raised my eyebrows, smiled, and looked at the others.
“Dorland’s only been saying that all year long,” refuted one of the boys.
“Really?” answered our new rowing all-star.
“Yes, really,” I said as I playfully punched him on the shoulder.
We all broke out into laughter.
I’ve never forgotten that. I had literally been saying the exact same thing all year—ad nauseam! But for whatever reason, he hadn’t heard me—but he had heard it that day with a new voice.
So the question begs, as leaders, what is it that our team members may not be hearing from us? And, more importantly, what steps can we take to ensure they do hear going forward?
If you’re an Oiler fan, you’re familiar with the remarkable season-turn-around in early November 2023 when ownership decided to fire their head coach after a disastrous start to the season and bring in a rookie coach with no NHL experience.
Kris Knoblauch is not an NHL Hall of Famer or even an ex-NHL player. He was drafted but never played a single game in the big show. As a coach, he’s had success at the junior and minor league ranks and even shared the bench with the Islanders coaching staff for part of a season, but that’s about it. When he got the call to assume the role of head coach of a team that was toted early on as Stanley Cup contenders but was falling short and then some, he jumped—and hasn’t looked back.
Knoblauch is known as “a communicator” by his players. He’s quiet, unassuming, and unafraid to make bold decisions during crucial game moments. For him, it’s all about creating an environment where the players have the confidence to play to the level they’re capable of. He does that by having conversations with his athletes that build a trusting and safe relationship.
In many instances, it’s not what we say as leaders but instead how we say it that matters most. It reminds me of the expression, “People don’t remember what you say; they remember how you make them feel.”
That’s my burning reflection on my earlier example with the young rower. I also believed I was “a communicator”—I considered it my strength as a rowing coach. Sure, I knew the sports X’s and O’s, but so did most coaches. If I were to differentiate myself, I saw the relational part as the obvious opportunity. So then, why had this young man in my example not “heard” me? What about my “how” interfered with his ability to “feel” a certain way that would support our relationship and, consequently, our communication? Questions worth pondering.
Don’t get me wrong, that crew was fast. They won the 2012 Canadian High School Rowing Championships in the senior boys 8+ and set a course record doing so that still stands today. But, so what—based on that team member’s admission, we could have been faster if I had been a more effective or perhaps compassionate communicator. Now, 12 years later, it’s not keeping me up at night, but it’s a good reminder as to the importance of “the voice”—my voice in this instance. Where are the opportunities in my future relationships to build more trust and safety? In that instance, what had I missed?
With the Oilers, you have a high-performance team that’s under-performing one day and thriving the next—literally, they went on a winning streak the day Knoblauch showed up. So what changed? Did the players suddenly remember how to play hockey? Did their strength and conditioning kick in on the day of the coaching change? How about strategy—did that change? Well, probably—for sure, Knoblauch and his coaching staff brought some new ideas that may have contributed to the immediate turnaround. But my guess is it was something else—something more important.
When Knoblauch arrived as the new voice in the locker room, the message may have changed, but equally, so too did the tone of that message. With that, players began coming to practice and playing games for different reasons—maybe better reasons. Consequently, their habits changed, and eventually, the culture began to shift, as well—all the result of a new voice.
Sure the doing of our work is imperative. Things don’t get done unless we do them, period. However, this story reminds us that how our work gets done and who we are while doing that work has more to do with our success than sometimes we may be willing to acknowledge. If nothing more, the Oilers remind us to BE our best as much as DO our best.
Go Oilers!
Hi Jason I just finished your second book pulling together. I loved it!
I work at St. Andrew’s College and coach girls hockey locally in Aurora. I have recommended the coaching staff read it before our season starts. I am sure our team will have a better year because of your work!
Bruce