How would you like it if everyone who talked about you focused on your failures? No matter how successful you might be when measured by any other reasonable standard, how would you respond if all it seemed people could do was harp on your lack of success in one specific area? And by harp, I mean talk about it constantly, openly, publicly. What if they were people who had either failed more prominently at the same task on which they were critiquing you, or weren’t even talented enough to attempt it?
Such is the plight of Mike Tomlin, head coach of the Pittsburgh Steelers, who, despite ammassing 18 consecutive seasons without a losing record, finds himself the target of criticism and acrimony as fans and media personalities clamor that he should lose his job because he hasn’t won a playoff game since January 2017.
As a life-long Steelers fan, I’m frustrated with that streak as much as anyone, but this post isn’t about football. I do have an opinion as to whether Art Rooney should fire Tomlin, which will become apparent before I’m done here, but this post isn’t about that, either. This post is about character.
For the very first time, at his end-of-year press conference today, I heard Tomlin address his critics directly. The man is no dummy, and he does not live with his head in the sand, so he knew what he was walking into, but he stepped up to the microphone and faced the music in typical Mike Tomlin style: unrehearsed and unscripted, yet ingeniously unforgettable. You could read the honesty and transparency in his eyes. This guy knows how to shoot only one way, and that’s straight. But just because it’s straight doesn’t mean that it doesn’t come from a completely unexpected angle.
About 15 minutes in, a reporter asked him what he would say to those who say he should be fired. In classic Tomlin style, he first acknowledged the frustration of the fan base, and said he shares it. He went on to say that words are hollow, and that what matters is what we do. Because of that, he said, “I’ve learned to say very little when things are going good; I’ve learned to say less when they’re not.”
Could you do that? Could you stand before the national media while they discount your entire career, which by all standards is worthy of the Hall of Fame, just because you haven’t done it lately, and say less? Could you resist the temptation to point out that it is your ability to consistently get your team to overachieve that makes a playoff win drought feel like you’re underperforming? All alone, in front of the cameras, to be replayed over and over again on SportsCenter, YouTube, and a myriad of sports talk radio shows and podcasts, with no one to defend you, and everyone intentionally trying to push your buttons, would you be able to not lash back out, in either frustration or defense? Have you learned to say less?
I don’t know what Tomlin’s profession of faith is, but his attitude is definitely biblical. It mirrors what Numbers 12:3 says about Moses, where he is described as the most meek (KJV) or humble (NASB) man on the face of the earth. When the angry mob that was the children of Israel challenged his authority, he said less than a little — he didn’t say anything at all. The Lord, however, had plenty to say, and He did. (Read about it in the rest of Numbers 12.) The thing is, Moses didn’t know what God was going to do until He did it. Would you be willing to keep quiet and trust Him in the face of a whole nation revolting against you?
Psalm 141 says, “Set a guard, O LORD, over my mouth; Keep watch over the door of my lips … Keep me from the jaws of the trap which they have set for me, and from the snares of those who do iniquity. Let the wicked fall into their own nets, while I pass by safely.” Psalm 141:3, 9-10 (NASB)
Those traps are everywhere. I’m sure Tomlin has become so accustomed to the kind of assault he faced today that they don’t catch him by surprise. Moses heard so much griping and complaining day in and day out that I doubt it caught him off-guard either. But the danger of these traps isn’t their subtlty — it’s their relenting persistence. They pick and they peck until they penetrate your defenses and strike a nerve, and that’s when you end up saying something you regret.
That’s why it’s important to keep watch over the door of your lips. Note that the psalmist doesn’t even trust himself to do that, so he asks God to do it. That’s an extremely good practice. For your part, however, I would also highly recommend the Tomlin Technique: speak very little when things are going well for you, and even less when they’re not.
