135Make fun of it. Ridicule it. Point out how stupid it is.
And once you get into that way of debating your own
doubts, you start to take back control of your life.”
Many times I’d be in the middle of a large business
project and ask to meet with Steve for an hour. After he
listened for a few minutes, he would almost invariably
see right away what was “missing” in my behavior. Like
a great golf teacher watching Tiger Woods’ backswing,
he would say, “Are you willing to accept some coaching
on this?” And I would eagerly say yes. Then he would
tell me truthfully, sometimes ruthlessly, what he saw. I
didn’t always like what he saw, but I always grew stron-
ger from talking about it.
Hardison’s coaching was so jolting that sometimes
it reminded me of an incident that happened to me when
I was a boy playing Little League baseball.
I had injured my knee in a play at third base and
when the game was over the knee was swollen and my
entire leg was stiff. As I sat on the bench with my leg
straight out in front of me, a doctor whose son was on
our team was kneeling down by my leg as my father
looked on.
“I’d like you to bend your leg now,” he said to me as
his hands gently held my swollen knee.
“I can’t,” I told him.
“You can’t?” he asked, looking up at me. “Why can’t
you?”
“Because I tried, and it really hurts.”
The doctor looked at me for a second, and then said
simply but gently, “Then hurt yourself.”
I was startled by his request. Hurt myself? On pur-
pose? But then, without saying anything, I slowly bent
my leg. Yes, there was tremendous pain, but that didn’t
matter. I was still mesmerized by his request.
Bring on a good coach