"It was a question of helping a man prepare in the way that suits him best. The theory is if you give a man responsibility for his own actions, then it is up to him to accept that responsibility"
About this Quote
Gower’s line carries the calm authority of a captain who’s seen how easily “leadership” becomes theatre. On the surface it’s a tidy philosophy of coaching: tailor preparation to the individual, then hand him the keys. Underneath, it’s also a refusal to infantilize professionals. The key move is the pairing of care with accountability: “helping a man prepare” signals support, but “responsibility for his own actions” draws a hard boundary. You get resources, not rescue.
The phrasing matters. Gower doesn’t talk about “talent” or “motivation,” the usual sporting comfort blankets. He talks about responsibility as something you give, almost like a role or a uniform, and accept as something the player must choose. That subtle distinction shifts blame and pride to the same place: the individual. If things go well, it’s earned; if they go badly, it can’t be explained away as poor man-management.
In context, this reads like an antidote to the paternal, selection-room culture that long defined English cricket, where hierarchy and tradition could smother agency. Gower’s era sat at the hinge between old-school deference and modern professionalism: more media glare, more money, more scrutiny of character. His “theory” is less a grand doctrine than a pragmatic operating system for that transition. It argues that autonomy isn’t softness; it’s a test. Give a player control over his preparation and you also remove his alibis. That’s a quietly bracing bargain.
The phrasing matters. Gower doesn’t talk about “talent” or “motivation,” the usual sporting comfort blankets. He talks about responsibility as something you give, almost like a role or a uniform, and accept as something the player must choose. That subtle distinction shifts blame and pride to the same place: the individual. If things go well, it’s earned; if they go badly, it can’t be explained away as poor man-management.
In context, this reads like an antidote to the paternal, selection-room culture that long defined English cricket, where hierarchy and tradition could smother agency. Gower’s era sat at the hinge between old-school deference and modern professionalism: more media glare, more money, more scrutiny of character. His “theory” is less a grand doctrine than a pragmatic operating system for that transition. It argues that autonomy isn’t softness; it’s a test. Give a player control over his preparation and you also remove his alibis. That’s a quietly bracing bargain.
Quote Details
| Topic | Servant Leadership |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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