The Journey is the Victory: Redefining Success Through Effort

It is a profound pleasure to share insights into a philosophy that elevates effort and character above the scoreboard—a philosophy championed by one of the greatest teachers of all time. This unique approach, born out of necessity and deeply rooted in personal values, offers a powerful lesson on what it truly means to succeed.

Coining a New Measure of Achievement

The concept of success we often rely on—high grades, winning streaks, or material wealth—was something the coach began questioning long ago. Back in 1934, while teaching English in South Bend, Indiana, he became disappointed and perhaps disillusioned by how parents judged their children’s performance. They expected A’s or B’s, feeling that a C indicated failure, a feeling that also extended to coaches judged by alumni solely on wins. Even years later at UCLA, even when the team didn’t lose a game, alumni sometimes criticized the margin of victory.

This focus on external metrics contradicted his beliefs. He understood that not everyone is created equal in terms of intelligence, size, or appearance, so expecting every student to earn an A or a B simply wasn’t right.

He recognized that Mr. Webster defined success as the accumulation of material possessions or the attainment of a position of power or prestige. While these are accomplishments, he did not view them as necessarily indicative of true success. He knew he needed a personal definition that could make him a better teacher and give the youngsters he supervised—in athletics or the English classroom—something more meaningful to aspire to than just a higher mark or more points.

The Core Definition: Peace of Mind

The foundation for this new definition came from his childhood on a small farm in Southern Indiana. His father instilled key lessons: Never try to be better than someone else, always learn from others, and never cease trying to be the best you can be. Critically, his father taught him that the effort to be one’s best is under individual control, and getting too involved in things over which one has no control will adversely affect the things one can control.

This wisdom, coupled with a simple verse he encountered—”At God’s footstool to confess… ‘Thou didst thy best, that is success'”—led to his own powerful definition:

Success is peace of mind attained only through self-satisfaction in knowing you made the effort to do the best of which you’re capable.

He believed this definition was true and argued that if you make the effort to do the best you are capable of, trying to improve the existing situation, that is success. Furthermore, he insisted that others cannot judge this kind of success. It is akin to the difference between reputation (what you are perceived to be) and character (what you really are); character is far more important.

Guiding Principles and the Power of the Teacher

As a teacher, he found great inspiration in poetry. One verse profoundly impacted his teaching philosophy in the 1930s: “No written word, no spoken plea can teach our youth what they should be… it’s what the teachers are themselves“. He strove to embody this principle whether coaching sports or leading an English class.

He also loved reflecting on the profound joy of the teaching profession, recognizing the “splendid company” he kept. He looked at the young people under his supervision and saw future statesmen, doctors, builders, teachers, farmers, merchants, and laborers—those who would shape a “great tomorrow”. Seeing those youngsters “go on” gave him immense pleasure.

He tried to keep his young athletes grounded by prioritizing their goals: education was number one, basketball was second (since it was paying their way), and social activities were third, though they must never take precedence over the first two.

The Three Rules and the Journey

To maintain focus and discipline, he stuck with three primary rules that predated his time at UCLA and were considered very important:

1. Never be late. This applied to starting practice on time and, equally important, closing practice on time. He emphasized this to young coaches, noting that running late could result in going home in a bad mood.
2. Not one word of profanity. If profanity was used in practice, the player was out for the day; if seen in a game, the player sat on the bench.
3. Never criticize a teammate. He told his players that criticism was his job, as he was paid to do it.

He also demanded his players be neat and clean. This standard was non-negotiable, famously leading him to prevent a great player, Bill Walton, from boarding the bus until he went home and cleaned up. These behavioral tenets actually came from lessons his own father taught him and his brothers: Don’t whine. Don’t complain. Don’t make excuses.

His entire approach revolved around the journey, not the outcome. Drawing on Cervantes, he stated, “The journey is better than the end”. He intentionally never mentioned winning to his players. In his view, you could lose a game even when you outscored someone, and win when you were outscored. He wanted the players to be able to hold their heads up after a contest. The goal was that if an outsider saw them after a game, they couldn’t tell whether the team had won or lost.

The score, he believed, should only be the byproduct of making the effort to do your best.

The Ultimate Measure of Success

To illustrate true success, he often reflected on players who met their full potential. When asked about the “perfect player,” he envisioned someone who was a good student, knew why they were at UCLA (education first), worked hard on defense, and was unselfish on offense. Keith Wilkes was one example he used as someone who made the effort to become the best.

However, the players who brought him the most satisfaction were those who maximized their potential, like Conrad Burke and Doug McIntosh. When they were freshmen, he initially thought that if either of them ever made varsity, the team must be “pretty miserable”. Yet, through sheer effort, one became a starter for a season and a half, and the other played 32 minutes in a national championship game, later becoming a starter on a championship team.

These two players perfectly embodied the definition of success:

• They didn’t force their shots, leading to outstanding shooting percentages.
• They weren’t quick and couldn’t jump well, but they maintained good position and balance, making them effective rebounders and defenders.
• They remembered that every shot taken should be assumed to be a miss, allowing them to get into position immediately.

Because they came as close to reaching their full potential as anyone he ever coached, he considered them as successful as Lewis Alcindor or Bill Walton, even though those others were outstanding players.

The message is clear: when we fail to give our best, we simply haven’t met the test. But by giving all within our span, giving all, it seems, is not so far from victory.

Source: John Wooden´s Biography