Anyone who knows sports knows that turnovers and missed opportunities, especially in the game of basketball, spell disaster. This was never more apparent than in the championship game of a recent tournament, when our starting point guard had 11 turnovers before halftime, and our team faced a 12-point deficit. The message for her was simple at halftime: “What could you do with 11 more possessions? Could you score the 12 points we need? Perhaps dish out 6 assists to overcome the deficit?”

Every season, coaches and players alike try to figure out the “secret formula” for winning a championship. Throughout my years as a player and coach, I’ve learned that every championship team has one thing in common. That one thing is not talent, it’s not size and it’s not intelligence. Time and time again, the common denominator of a championship team is a servant heart. This shouldn’t come as a surprise to believers. Even Jesus, the King of Kings, spent His entire life serving others. Sometimes He served others by listening to them. Sometimes He encouraged them. Sometimes He washed their feet. Ultimately, He served us all by dying on the cross.

Ever forget anything? Lately I have been very forgetful. I once heard the story of a man who used to tie a string around his finger to remember important things. However, once he had 10 strings on his hand, he couldn't remember what each string meant! I guess it's a little silly what people will do to try to remember things, but the point is that these things are important to them.

"Come on, Coach. Just a few minutes," was the daily request of this young player. Everyday after practice he asked his coach to stick around to help him with his batting. This player's average -- even if he had 20 consecutive hits -- would never even reach the Mendoza line (.200 batting average). But he wouldn't quit. And time after time the coach would put him off. The young man was never going to play, so why should he bother?

Danny was not a good athlete. In fact, he was pretty bad. I remember he always hated recess. In third grade, we played a killer game of kickball every recess and every boy played … except for Danny. He always watched closely, though. One day the sides were uneven, and I was named captain. I knew what I had to do. With my first pick in the 1970 First Round Draft for recess kickball, I chose Danny Anderson. After everyone got up off the ground from laughing, Danny walked over to my side with his head down.

Johnny stepped up to the plate. The bases were loaded with two outs, and his team was down by one run. You could tell he was nervous. How would Johnny respond? STRIKE ONE! He watched it go by. STRIKE TWO. He watched another. STRIKE THREE. The bat never left Johnny's shoulder. Johnny returned to the dugout and was approached by his coach. "You never even took a swing, why not?" Johnny replied, "I thought you would be mad if I struck out swinging."

This happens a lot in sports. Fear grips an athlete. Fear of a coach, fear of failure, fear of losing. . .whatever the fear may be, fear is a factor in sports today, and in life as well.

When most sport seasons end, numbers get crunched. As coaches, it’s easy for us to get caught up in this number crunching, especially as the media highlights our career wins, the titles we’ve won and the number of “Coach of the Year” awards we’ve received.

But any true coach knows that records are not what are important. Having the opportunity to work with athletes and make a difference in their lives is what is important. Coaches, like players, make a lot of sacrifices to develop winning teams, but most will tell you those sacrifices and successes are for the athletes—for the joy of watching players mature and grow.