Bob, Lee and the Guy Who Said He Was Great

When my daughter was looking for a softball team, we talked to various coaches and settled on one. He spouted off his credentials, which sounded very impressive: 23 years of coaching girls’ softball, some wins in regional tournaments, and former players that ended up playing for various colleges. He wrapped up by saying, “I’m really a great coach.”

At the time, we thought, “Sounds great!”

As it turned out, he wasn’t so great. He might have coached for 23 years, but the wins he had were greatly exaggerated, and the college players were playing for intramural teams, not college teams. He wasn’t even mediocre – in fact, he was downright inept. The team, which consisted of some decent talent, did not even win a quarter of their games, mostly because of bad coaching decisions.

Ironically, after the season there were many people who still believed him when he talked about how great he was. He kept talking about his greatness, and people didn’t look at the facts, they just listened to what he told them. It was as if they’d handed over their ability to think independently.

I’ve noticed that truly great people don’t talk at all about how great they are.

Two people come to mind when I think of greatness. One is named Bob, a retired school administrator who is not only one of the nicest people I know, but one of the most talented and positive. Bob never talks about himself; his work and his interactions speak for themselves.

The other is Lee, a retired school custodian. Lee worked tirelessly at her job and received many commendations, but more than that, she makes friends with everyone she encounters. Kids and adults alike love her. She has received invitations to former students’ weddings and their baby showers. Lee never builds herself up, she doesn’t need to.

Confidence and charisma tend to make us believe that the speaker is right. But like the coach who declared his greatness, that’s often not the case. Greatness isn’t loud. It’s found in people like Bob and Lee, who live with empathy, humility, and quiet strength. They don’t need to list their achievements; their lives speak through their actions – steadfast, kind, generous, and grounded. They don’t give you a resume – they give you themselves.

The truly great people don’t need to tell you who they are. You already know.

About the Author

Rev. Sharon Smith is the pastor of St. Paul’s Lutheran Church. She writes from the intersection of everyday observation and deeper meaning, looking for wisdom in unexpected places – like a softball field or a school hallway. When not writing, she serves the community through ministry, teaching and outreach, always on the lookout for stories that speak softly but carry truth. This column is part of an ongoing series exploring the small moments that shape how we see the world – and each other. Contact Sharon at tct@pageone-inc.com