The highly successful head coach of the University of Tennessee women's basketball team offers a motivational program for success based on twelve principles that can be applied to any situation
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Pat Summitt became head coach of women's basketball at Tennessee in 1974; since then she has achieved an astounding .813 average and won more national championships than any coach, man or woman, since the legendary John Wooden. As the team's co-captain, she led the U.S. women's squad to a silver medal in the 1976 Olympics, and in the 1984 Olympics--this time as coach--her team brought home the gold medal. Summitt is a sought-after motivational speaker and has spoken to such companies as Proctor & Gamble, Kodak, and ALCOA. In 1997, she was voted one of the 25 Most Influential Working Mothers by Working Mother magazine. A native of Tennessee, she lives in Knoxville with her husband, R.B., and their son, Tyler.
Sally Jenkins is the author of Men Will B
meone who will push you beyond all reasonable limits. Someone who will ask you not to just fulfill your potential but to exceed it. Someone who will expect more from you than you may believe you are capable of. So if you aren't ready to go to work, shut this book."
--Pat Summitt
Pat Summitt, head coach of the University of Tennessee Lady Vols, is a phenomenon in women's basketball. Her ferociously competitive teams won the NCAA championship in 1996 and 1997, and they've won five times in the last ten years. After twenty-four years as head coach at Tennessee, Summitt is well on her way to becoming the winningest coach in NCAA Division 1 women's history.
Now Summitt has written the first motivational book by a high-achieving female coach. In Reach for the Summit, she presents her formula for success, which she calls the "Definite Dozen System." In each of the book's tw
Never Wait 'Til Next Year
When I get after something, the veins in my neck stand out. The color begins to rise up from my collarbone, and you can see the pulse going in my throat, and my eyes look like the high beams of an oncoming car. I am what you would call a classic Type A personality. An extremely demanding person. Certainly the people close to me would tell you that, including my seven-year-old son, Tyler. In whom, may I just say, I have met my match. The other night, Tyler pulled out his own front tooth, and it wasn't even that loose. The fact that it was his only remaining front tooth, and that it bled like a slaughtered hog, and that he reminded me more than a little bit of myself, may have accounted for the exorbitant fee of seven dollars he received from the tooth fairy.
"Mama," Tyler says, when I get that look in my eye. "Please put your sunglasses back on."
That's who you're dealing with here. Someone who will sell her house to own your farm. Someone who will push you beyond all reasonable limits. Someone who will ask you to not just fulfill your potential, but to exceed it. Someone who will expect more from you than you may believe you are capable of. So if you aren't ready to go to work, shut this book.
They tell a story about me back in Henrietta, Tennessee. One day when I was about fourteen years old, I passed a neighbor boy who was struggling to load a forty-five-pound bale of hay on to a truck. He was hot and sweaty, and trying to push the bale up onto the flatbed. I was just a tall, stick-legged girl everybody called Bone.
I watched him for a minute, and then I said, "You want me to show you how to do that?"
I grabbed the bale from him and threw it four stacks high.
You're wondering what a bale of hay has to do with success. Well, there's a trick to loading hay. You have to use your knee. What you do is, you put your right knee behind it and half kick it up in the air. That way you get some loft on it. It works with luggage, too.
My point is, there are certain ways to make a hard job easier. Which is what this book is all about. It's about some tried-and-true methods of success, applicable to any job, that I have found over the course of my career.
I can fix a tractor, mow hay, plow a field, chop tobacco, fire a barn, and call cows. I can also teach, cook, and raise a child. But what I'm known for is winning. I wrote this book because I believe the winning formula we have created at Tennessee deserves to be documented.
I also wrote it because I'm not happy unless I'm driving myself to my limit, and driving everybody around me crazy while I'm doing it. Fortunately, I have a loyal, long-suffering staff in my assistants Mickie DeMoss, Holly Warlick, and Al Brown, and my secretary of seventeen years, Katie Wynn. I usually try to do five things at once--in fact, we remodeled our house at the same time I was working on this book.
I'm famous for putting my makeup on at stoplights. I constantly drive barefoot, changing my shoes in the car. I seem to arrive at my latest appointment still screwing in one earring.
My attitude is, why do things one at a time, when you can do two at once? The more work I have to do, the happier I am.
In my opinion, too many people in this world are born on third base and think they've hit a triple. They think winning is a natural state of being. Take our team, the 1998 University of Tennessee Lady Volunteers. Every year, we get one or two players who think that just being at Tennessee is enough, that all they have to do is stand on the basketball court, and breathe in and out, and we will win titles. And why shouldn't they think that? We've won five titles in ten years, and two back-to-back in 1996-97. Fourteen times the Lady Vols have finished among the Final Four in the nation. You could pull a heist in our locker room, it's so jammed with silver and gold hardware.
I promise you, I cure our players of this type of thinking. It starts the moment they arrive.
On a mild Sunday this past August, the 1998 Tennessee women's basketball team reported to campus. They gathered in a locker room that still bore the signs and slogans and newspaper clippings of the '97 national championship season. The Lady Volunteers hadn't really been together since we had done the so-called impossible the previous March, when a team no one believed in, a group of classic overachievers, defeated Old Dominion, 68-59, to win a second straight NCAA title.
Now we were joined by four new players, a group that was being called the single best recruiting class in the history of women's collegiate basketball: Tamika Catchings, the Naismith Award winner for best high school player in the country; Semeka Randall, USA Today's Player of the Year; Kristen "Ace" Clement, a fluid point guard out of Broomall, Pennsylvania, who we jokingly call "Aceika"; Teresa Geter, the best player in the state of South Carolina. The rest of the team was an assortment of underclassmen, led by junior All American Chamique Holdsclaw, the clear candidate for collegiate player of the year.
I had a lot to say to these young ladies. A whole lot. I knew that before the '98 season was over, I would probably say it with those veins standing out in my neck.
Everybody was talking "three-peat"--an unprecedented third straight national championship. But how could I explain what we would have to go through if we wanted to win another? How could I explain to them just how tired and hoarse I would grow from the daily exertion of trying to convince a team that isn't very good--no one ever is, not at the beginning--to become great? How could I convince them, in a simple welcome speech, of what it has taken me forty-five years to learn:
Winners are not born, they are self-made. If ever there was proof of this, it was Tennessee's '97 team. No team had ever won a title with ten losses. But somehow they managed to win it all. As I looked around the locker room that following fall, the whole story was right there in front of me. The walls yelled it out, and I heard my own voice coming back at me. I saw the spot on the wall where I had thrown a cup of water in frustration with my center, Abby Conklin. They had been called "losers" and "pretenders" in the press. I had added my own taunts.
Abby Conklin, everybody wants to guard you. They can't wait.
Ya'll better get back out there quick, because if I was a paying spectator, I'd leave.
To be perfectly honest, I hadn't liked the personality of the '97 team to begin with. They were too quiet, they were listless, they had no attitude. I felt like a dentist pulling teeth. The misery started the day before our first practice, when I learned that our point guard, Kellie Jolly, had torn her anterior cruciate ligament. I knew then that we were in serious trouble. I could look at our schedule and count the games we would lose.
Of course, I didn't dare let the team know it. But I told my husband, R.B., "This is gonna be a long year."
I was right. We didn't just lose. We lost...
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