A good coach can change a game. A great coach can change a life. –John Wooden
I had the great pleasure of sitting down and talking shop this week with Paula Krueger, Head Women’s Basketball Coach at Northern State University (NCAA Division II). Her two-part episode will be out March 27 and March 30.
I loved our conversation, and I learned so much that I’ll probably spend the next few weeks unpacking it and writing about the golden nuggets of wisdom she shared throughout.
One of the more interesting moments came when she described a past job interview. A member of the search committee asked her a simple question:
“Can you love your team?”
At first, I found it to be an odd question—or at least an odd way to ask it. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would have answered it if I were in that position. But more importantly, I kept coming back to why someone would choose to ask it that way.
My initial reaction?
Why not ask, “What are some of the ways you love your team?” or “How does your love of the game, teaching, and your players show up in your coaching?”
If I’m being honest, the wording felt a little off—maybe even like it carried an agenda.
But the more I’ve sat with it, the more I’ve come to believe it’s actually one of the most important questions a coach can answer—because it gets right to the heart of what we do.
If you can’t love your team… I’m not sure anything else you say really matters if I’m considering hiring you to lead student-athletes.
I’m currently doing some executive coaching with two dynamic college assistants as they prepare for head coaching interviews. This question immediately becomes part of our work together.
Because answered well, it’s the kind of question that can make a search committee pause and think:
“Whoa… this might be our next coach.”
And answered poorly?
Well… it usually leads to, “That’s not what we were hoping for.”
So, let’s break down a strong answer into three simple parts:
1. Authenticity — Speak from the heart
“I absolutely can love my team. I don’t see my players as just students or athletes. I see them as sons and daughters.”
2. History — Show it’s who you’ve always been
“I got into coaching because I had coaches who loved me—and still care about me years later. That love made me a better player, but more importantly, a better person. It’s not just my job to love my players—it’s a calling. It’s my responsibility to pass that forward.”
3. Ownership — Define what love actually means
“I don’t believe I have any right to apply for a job like this if I don’t love my players. I want relationships that last beyond their four years. I want to be invited to their weddings and celebrate their big moments with them. I want to be someone they call when life gets hard. I want to celebrate their wins long after the final game. I want them to know they have me—always. That’s who I am.”
If you’ve read this blog for a while, you know I’m an emotional person. Empathy is my superpower—but it can also be my kryptonite.
Even thinking about this question brought tears to my eyes as I reflected on the hundreds of young people I’ve been blessed to coach and mentor.
Yes, I’ve watched my coaching tree win conference, state, and national championships over the past 20+ years.
But I’m just as proud—if not more—of those who have taken what we shared during their playing days and used it to build meaningful lives, strong relationships, and impactful careers.
To see them now pass that same love on to others?
That’s the ultimate championship.
No matter what sport you coach—or what level you coach at—I encourage you to spend some real time with this question:
Can you love your team?
My hope is that your answer is as meaningful to you as it has been for me.
Thanks, Coach K. I’m grateful for you.
If you’re a coach preparing for your next opportunity, a program looking to build something meaningful, or a family navigating the recruiting journey—this is the work I care deeply about. You can find more tools, resources, and opportunities to work together in recruiting, coaching, and leadership at coachmattrogers.com.
