If you take golf, you have a teacher for the drive, a teacher

Johan Cruyff once declared: “If you take golf, you have a teacher for the drive, a teacher for the approach play, and a teacher for the putt. That’s three specialist coaches for one player. In football, one coach looks after 25 players.” In these words, Cruyff revealed a truth that is both practical and profound: the task of guiding a football team is far heavier than that of an individual sport. Where one athlete may receive the wisdom of many specialists, in the world of football a single voice must nurture the talents, the discipline, and the harmony of an entire squad.

The origin of this reflection lies in Cruyff’s own life, as both a player of genius and a coach of vision. He had seen firsthand how much individual attention goes into sports like golf or tennis, where every detail is sharpened by a personal mentor. Yet in football, with its grand stage and its cast of many, the responsibility of one coach is to be strategist, motivator, teacher, and sometimes even father to dozens of different characters. Thus, his words remind us that true leadership requires not just knowledge of technique, but the art of seeing the whole while caring for the individual.

The ancients knew well this tension between the one and the many. Plato, in his Republic, likened the ruler of a city to the helmsman of a ship: one man must guide the course, even as many hands row. In the same way, the football coach is like the helmsman, carrying 25 souls upon the sea of competition, each with their own temperament, weaknesses, and strengths. It is not the narrow task of perfecting one swing or one stroke, but the broader challenge of uniting the whole vessel toward victory.

History offers us clear examples of this truth. Consider Sir Alex Ferguson at Manchester United. For decades he shaped a team that was not merely a collection of talented individuals but a living organism, bound by discipline, vision, and belief. He did not have the luxury of assigning a specialist teacher for every aspect of play. Instead, he carried the weight of many roles: guiding young players into maturity, calming storms of ego, refining tactics, and demanding excellence. Like Cruyff’s reflection, his career shows the enormity of the task of the football coach compared to the teacher of one athlete.

The meaning of Cruyff’s words also points to the uniqueness of team sports. In golf, success depends on one. In football, success depends on the many. The coach must teach not only skill but also harmony, the blending of talents so that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. This is a higher art than specialization. It is the art of weaving human beings into a living tapestry, one that can face hardship, pressure, and triumph together.

The lesson for us is this: leadership is not about focusing on one strength alone, but about balancing the needs of many. Whether in sports, in families, or in communities, the leader must embrace complexity. It is not enough to be an expert in one field; one must also be a guide of hearts, a reader of souls, and a builder of unity. In this sense, the football coach is a model for all who bear the weight of responsibility over others.

In practice, this means that when you lead—whether one person or many—you must listen, observe, and adapt. Do not expect every individual to thrive under the same instruction. Like Cruyff’s insight, remember that what golf spreads among three teachers, football demands from one. Therefore, cultivate breadth as well as depth. Learn to inspire, to direct, to correct, and to nurture all at once. This is not easy, but it is the true calling of leadership.

Therefore, remember Cruyff’s wisdom: “In football, one coach looks after 25 players.” These words are not merely about sport, but about life. They remind us that the highest leaders are those who can carry the many, who can turn diversity into harmony, and who can give of themselves not to one student alone, but to the whole company entrusted to their care. To lead in this way is to live not for oneself, but for the greater good. And in that lies true greatness.