Give Me the Play and Let Me Go
Last week, ESPN ran an article about Dallas Cowboys quarterback Dak Prescott’s approach to directing plays. I was intrigued by Prescott’s preference for minimizing communication from his coach once the play is called. He said, “Love ‘em all to death, love my coaches, appreciate ‘em, but we talk enough throughout the week that on game day, give me the play and let me go.”
For those who aren’t football fans, here’s what’s happening. Between plays, teams have about 40 seconds to start the next one. During that window, the coach can talk to the quarterback through a speaker in his helmet until the play clock reaches 15 seconds. The coach usually calls two plays—the primary and then a variation. Before the play starts, the quarterback reads the defense and decides which play to use, or “audibles” to a completely different third play. (Hall of Fame quarterback Drew Brees gives an example in this video.)
There’s a lot going on in those 40 seconds!
Prescott wants less talk from the coach because the faster he can relay the play and get the team set, the more time he has to read the defense and adjust the plan. The words beyond the play call are often the coach telling the quarterback how to do his job rather than letting him get on with it—what some might call micromanagement.
What stood out was Prescott’s explanation of why he and his coach could agree to minimize communication. “It’s a testament to our trust – to us knowing exactly our plan that I don’t need the extra stuff.”
The coach knows that Prescott has the skills to process the information, and they agree on the plan. They built that trust through the work they’ve already done together.
Contrast that with LA Rams QB Matthew Stafford’s experience in this clip. Stafford gets so frustrated by the extra instructions that he eventually says, “Please stop!”
Because the speaker in Stafford’s helmet only goes one way, the coach can’t hear his protest. All Stafford can do is complain to his teammates. It’s the NFL, but that might be the most normal workplace interaction I can imagine.
The same day the article came out, I was working on a strategic project with one of our senior leaders when she got a call from one of our campus operations leaders about a student safety issue—nothing out of the ordinary for a school.
She asked the campus leader, “Do you have what you need to handle it?” Hearing yes—they were following the protocol and had what they needed—we both went back to our meeting. We didn’t need to give any extra instructions.
Afterward, I told my teammate it was great that the campus team was on top of things, but we should ask ourselves why they felt they needed to call when there was nothing for us senior leaders to do.
Have we told the campus leader that we trust the team and the response protocol enough to hear what happened after the incident is resolved, rather than taking up their time and attention in the middle of it? Have we defined when a campus issue requires an audible that brings in the senior team?
Why does this matter? Team members don’t want to be micromanaged. I don’t want to micromanage, either. That crowds out the strategic work on my to-do list. But like Stafford's coach, I might not hear the complaint. And a team member, like our campus leader, might keep inviting us into the huddle because no one has told them they don’t need to.
Prescott and his coach got there through the work they do throughout the week: agreeing on the plan and protocols and believing in each other’s skills. We can’t take for granted that trust will build itself.
The NFL cuts off the coach’s microphone with 15 seconds left on the play clock and keeps coaches off the field. That limits how much micromanaging can happen. Most of us don't have those limits. We need the discipline to tell ourselves, “Please stop.”