If you are playing a Zero-Sum Game, you are losing.

Why collaboration and positivity always wins. A lesson from a professional bridge burner.

Jun 06, 2021

Early in my career, I wanted to do everything my way; looking back, it's funny because I had done nothing at that point, yet I was rich in entitlement. I was also playing a zero-sum game. Meaning I was focused on a winner-takes-all mentality, which was also my worldview. I was out to get mine, but laying waste to those around me.

Coach’s Note: A zero-sum game is defined as a situation in which one person or group can win something only by causing another person or group to lose it.

Having this kind of mental makeup left me tired, paranoid, and, at all times, egotistical. I thought I was better than everyone, I didn’t need help, and that everyone was out to get me. My failures were not my own, but those of those around me. Collaboration, due diligence, and just overall decency were not my thing.

Was I a good teammate? No way.

Was I out to get mine? Yes. 100%.

The attitude I carried left me alienated and alone, and the destructive cycle continued into adulthood. This summer marks ten years since I quit my job and truly embarked on this wild journey called coaching. It’s funny how life comes full circle, and certain chapters close, but just because a door is closed doesn’t mean it’s locked. We can all change, grow, and do better.

Related Content: 10 things I learned since leaving Baylor (A Thread)

Looking back, it is easy to see how much destruction came from my negative mindset. Though I was a decent athlete (which was all I cared about), I was a terrible teammate, and many of my old coaches can attest to this; I was a problematic player.

In short, I thought I was better than where I was.

I hid behind the veil of needing to understand the why as a way to challenge everything. I took being gifted at understanding the game too far. I was arrogant, not receptive.

In high school, I wanted to run away from my hometown.

I had cut everyone off from knowing the real me. In my blind, biased rage, I tried to get as far away as possible. I even told my high school coach I didn’t want to go to any in-state school, which cut out a lot of opportunities for me. Leaving Liberty, Missouri, allowed me to escape my issues because no one knew who I was.

My feet were never firmly planted long enough to grow roots.

At the beginning of my playing career, I bounced around and was lucky enough to stumble on the most beautiful human being, now my wife, who you could say is my literal anchor outside of God. I had moved from Liberty to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to Phoenix, to Olathe, Kansas, and finally settled on the west side of Oklahoma City.

My wife kept me at Southern Nazarene long enough to graduate.

I was constantly running away from who I was, and my hometown reflected that. Instead of embracing my reality, I tried to create a different one. I had to be constantly moving. Lucky for me, I was able to find an anchor and someone I could be myself around, but that was only a slight relief from my destructive behavior.

Fast forward to my coaching career, and I couldn’t wait to move up and move on.

I wanted to be a Defensive Coordinator at a very young age, as though this was some validation for all the “things” that had happened to me. I wanted to show everyone how much I knew and how much they missed in doubting me.

The irony in this is that football is about relationships.

Coaching is about who you know, not what you know. Being ‘smart’ at Xs and Os is a cheap trick. It’s about relationships, because those are the people hiring.

I obsessed over football.

Though my mindset was negative, I would never have had the courage to throw everything away and take a chance on Baylor Football without this blind resolution. God has a sense of humor, for sure.

Everything works out for a reason; it isn’t always immediately apparent.

In Waco, I would meet Phil Bennett and Jim Gush, who, to this day, are pillars of my football acumen. It is hard to have an ego at a place like Baylor, but trust me, it was still there. I still made plenty of egregious follies. But, without my time in Waco, many of the opportunities and friendships I have now would not be possible.

My failures at Baylor are simple: I never asked for help or collaborated.

I did everything I could to be the only young coach doing anything on the defensive side of the ball. I didn’t learn to say “no” either, and would exhaust myself to the point of a breakdown.

I parked myself in a dark room.

One week, I broke down 1,000+ plays for our win over Oklahoma in 2013—all by myself.

Thinking of all the opportunities I missed to collaborate and grow is frustrating.

My point of clarity came much later, when I created MatchQuarters.

At a clinic, I met up with Gush. He made a very blunt statement:

“We had no idea you even knew this stuff.”

I was shocked, but it made perfect sense.

I had spent so much time doing work outside the meeting room, by myself, that I had spent almost no time building an actual rapport with anyone in the office. No one knew me.

I don’t say that as a badge of honor, but to illustrate how foolish I had become.

My father can attest to the many times he had to walk me off the ledge on our daily phone calls. My wife was exhausted as well, with my constant buzz of activity and grandiose plans.

I was alone, with no one to turn to, but I had made it that way because I had to win.

Frankly, it strained my relationships at home and prevented me from growing as a husband, father, or coach. I had my oldest during Spring Ball, my second year at Baylor. Talk about adding fuel to the fire!

I am constantly reminded in this profession that it is not what you know but who you know.

I did very little with my time at Baylor regarding networking or growing outward. When it was all said and done, I had nowhere to go and no one to turn to.

For many young coaches, their first “real” job is usually one they get when a coach leaves.

You either move on with them or move up internally. In 2013, no one left, and I had nowhere to go. The ego came back with a vengeance, bringing its cousin, resentment.

I had several restricted-earnings (a nice phrase for low-paying) job offers at the college level, but at the time, I could not accept them because of the burden they would place on my family. I refused to continue working in the profession and leave my wife back in Texas.

Plus, in my delusional mind, I felt they were beneath me. Hell, we (Baylor) had just won the Big 12 title!

As stated, I had a son while I was a GA at Baylor. Even though my ego was out of control, I could not stand to put my family in a terrible situation, and to be honest, I didn’t want a divorce. For all my faults, which are many, I am loyal, probably to a fault.

Thankfully, my wife is, too.

Because of my mental model of how a college coach’s trajectory should unfold and my failures at advancing, I became very cynical and jaded. To be honest, it still bothers me today. Instead of feeding into that destructive loop, I focus on where I am today and the current path I am on.

I came to Baylor at just the right time.

We were about to be very good, and the NCAA added an extra GA position. When I was forced to leave Baylor, my “luck” had run out, and I had to start looking in the mirror, which was not a pleasant experience.

At this point in my life (28), I had failed as a player (I didn’t get that D-1 scholarship) and as a potential coach (I didn’t get that D-1 full-time job). Negativity cut a path through my entire life at that point. I was blinded by resentment and self-hatred for being such a “loser.”

How could I have let this happen?

How could I not see the fantastic opportunities that lay ahead?

I had a beautiful family, a first-class education (football and academic), and a bright future ahead, but I was tethered to false beliefs about what was important, and hell would freeze over before I asked for help.

Looking back, I was living and breathing a zero-sum game.

If I didn’t “win” at all costs, I had failed. From high school to adulthood, that winner-take-all mentality had stunted my emotional development.

I let no one in, not even my wife. To this day, I have two friends from high school that I talk with (and only a few from college). I take full ownership of lost friendships. Those are solely on my shoulders.

There was no seeing a silver lining either, and indeed, no room to allow anyone outside of my tiny little circle (mostly family) in. In my mind, I had just gone through an intensive football school with two of the best minds in football, Art Briles and Phil Bennett. Everyone had told me I was a shoo-in to land a job.

I saw my “reward” as moving to the high school level. In my eyes, the system was rigged against me, and everyone had failed me except me.

I couldn’t be further from the truth.

I brought this toxic attitude into my first coordinating job.

Because I did not control my ego and still played a zero-sum game, I was not prepared to lead men, let alone young athletes. I also took a job that did not suit me well, or had a support system to help my transition. All this information was present at the time, but I was blinded by my ego and the need to have a title.

In short, my first job back at the high school level was a disaster in every way, mainly anchored in relationships with coaches and players. In my mind, I should never have been there—I was a D-1 college coach! But the reality was, I was there, in the flesh.

The saying “be where your feet are” has multiple meanings.

A lot of coaches use the phrase to supress the youthful vigur or a lot of young coaches. As I got older, I understood the real meaning:

Build relationships in the room you are in. That room is your pathway to opportunity.

The reality of where I was post-Baylor hung in the air like a thick cloud, fogging my judgment and muddying my thoughts. My feet were not firmly planted where I stood. I was constantly looking for an edge, a way out, and ultimately feeding into the negativity loop I had created for myself.

Hindsight is funny because we can reflect and see our misguided adventures.

If we are not ready to learn from those mistakes and are not in the right frame of mind to evaluate and be honest with ourselves, we learn nothing.

I was sinking, and fast. Plus, it was only going to get worse.

Lucky for me (kind of), I had not burned too much of a bridge to get myself out of there. Though 2014 would be one of the most challenging years of my life, it was no match for the following year. My next school was a complete 180 from the previous spot and a much better fit for me personally.

In my brief stint as a young DC, I learned that titles don’t mean much if you are put in a situation where you're going to fail.

Money, title, and power are great, but if they are sucking the life out of you and feeding your negativity loop, you will eventually burn out, which is precisely what happened to me.

The lesson wouldn’t come full circle until the conclusion of the ‘15 season.

At this point in my story, I am at a crossroads.

I could have learned a lesson, been humbled by the failure of my first DC job, and been lucky enough to be “saved” from a terrible situation.

Instead, I learned nothing and kept pouring into an unhealthy relationship with football.

Moving schools only fed the issues I was dealing with. The relationships with my players were fantastic, and I was developing friendships in the coach’s office, but there was a stench in the air, and it was me.

Blood was in the water, and the sharks (my ego) were circling.

We only learn through failure, but if we get “saved” or are lucky, we tend to see this as something owed to us. We don’t hit rock bottom, so there is no way we have the clarity to see the actual situation—we are a sinking ship.

I had created this mental model because I believed my talent and knowledge as a coach would eventually overwhelm those around me.

Soon, I would be seen as the “genius.”

I knew I was. I’m laughing at myself as I write those words.

I was seeking respect, yet not giving it to myself. None of that happened because I was playing the wrong game: a zero-sum game.

Seeing the world as a zero-sum game cuts you off from growth and from those around you who care, because you are focused on winning, not on growing.

In 2015, I was still a lost kid with a lot of growing up to do. As I reflect on my time at Lovejoy, I see many potential friendships that I left stunted because I needed to “win” at the game I wanted to play.

Even in my relationship at home, there was no collaboration, no depth, and I had to win every situation. By the way, these are not the steps you take to stay married for long.

The tension at home was palpable, affecting everything in my life.

I was angry all the time because I felt slighted by everyone and everything. I was finding problems and not solutions. I was a walking poster for envy and jealousy.

Looking in the mirror, I saw a fraud.

I was a terrible father, husband, and friend, and I quickly became a lousy coach. Ultimately, I had let everyone down, especially my family.

Something had to give, and it did.

The dam broke, and my luck ran out. I hit bottom hard. The only way was up.

My life changed for the better when I decided to quit playing the zero-sum game.

I needed help, something that many coaches and men have a problem asking for. In my life, I had alienated even the ones who had my back.

Everything was crashing down around me.

Finally, the negative energy I had been using for all these years ran out, and I was wasted. That is the difference between negative and positive energy.

Negative energy will eventually run out, whereas positive energy recycles itself back to you, so you never run out of it.

Positive momentum keeps you going even when you are feeling down, and that is why I tell my players and others that you need to build the people around you up. Doing that allows you to rise with them; they push you forward.

"For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled,

and he who humbles himself will be exalted."

- Luke 14:11

After finishing a workout, I will never forget kneeling in the Lovejoy indoor complex on Monday following Thanksgiving Break. I asked God to change something in my life and give me the positivity I desperately needed. I was ready. I was finally open to change.

I’m glad I asked.

It is amazing how God and life will help you through that door when you are open to change. It is not always what you expect, either. Coming off that break, I had no idea my life was indeed about to change drastically.

Less than an hour after that conversation with the Man upstairs, my head coach was fired, and my pursuit of what I thought was happiness left me with nothing. I had gone to Lovejoy to be the DC, you know, chasing a title, and now I was given nothing.

I spent every waking moment of Thanksgiving Break working on our self-scout and setting up for next year. What an idiot. Thanksgiving is a time to reset and reconnect, and I did neither.

Again, God has a great sense of humor, and I’m usually the butt of the joke.

I was now a CBs coach and nothing more, placed in a literal corner and told to be quiet. At least I could stay on the staff, because we were too broke to move.

At home, I was left with a hollow marriage and much rebuilding to do in all aspects of my life.

Without this rock-bottom moment and enough clarity to see the destruction I had laid upon my life, I would still be chasing some hollow concept I thought was important—chasing that carrot.

I would also be playing a zero-sum game—my way or the highway, which, ironically, was usually me.

This pivotal moment was the genesis of MatchQuarters and saved my life.

Without that year of forced stillness, I would never have started writing, a dormant passion since my youth, and an outlet when things got hard.

Hitting bottom and shifting my mental outlook from a zero-sum game to one open to change and collaboration enabled me to achieve real growth. Stillness unlocked my true passion for football.

Trust me; it is an everyday battle, and I am still not there.

Collaboration in all aspects of life, from marriage to football, is crucial to success. I tell my players who are having difficulty seeing this that we will reach higher heights if we build others up. Only when we bring those around us with us can we be truly happy.

Football is a team game.

Lucky for me, I caught my issue before it had utterly destroyed my life, and I am still young enough to recover my career from my youthful misgivings.

By no means was my change to positivity overnight, and I still constantly struggle with my ego and drive to win at all costs. I’m just more self-aware now, I can detach, and I don’t sweat the small stuff (as much).

Had God not given me that year to just breathe and grow, I would have kept running headfirst into oblivion. Who knows where I’d be? I didn’t want that year, and I wasn’t happy then, but looking back, there was no other way; I had to burn it to the ground and start over.

I am relatively young for the profession and still have a ways to go. However, over the past five years, I have realized that it is much easier to work with someone than against them.

We are not entitled to be the only voice in the room, even if we are the leader or even right. I was a fraud for a long time, pretending to be something I was not. Now I feel like I am the genuine me. Every relationship since has led me to this point, and I’m content.

Coach’s Note: Stoicism has helped me tremendously in my life. Ryan Holiday’s series of books - Obstical is the Way, Ego is the Enemy, & Stillness is Key have all been great reminders of how to stay on path.

I feel at peace, grounded, and excited for the next step in my career. None of this would have happened had I kept my zero-sum mentality.

MatchQuarters was built around education (especially my own!) and helping others. I needed a way to get my creative (and sometimes destructive) juices out of me and put them to good use.

Negative energy is still energy.

If you repurpose it for good, it will grow exponentially. For instance, I was told to sit in a corner, so I wrote. Cautious Aggression, and MatchQuarters was the result.

Turn a negative into a positive.

Writing also made me realize that I do not have all the answers and will never know all of them. Again, this is a people business. I see that now.

I recently read an article about how a scientist suggested giving up our best ideas to truly grow as leaders and collaborators. We live in a time where almost all information is accessible. In football, that includes film, playbooks, clinics, and anything you can imagine is available with a few keystrokes.

Withholding information leads to resentment, and no one likes a secret. Hoarding information isolates you from other ecosystems and situations that may challenge your worldview and make you a better coach.

Hint: There might be a better way to do things! We ask our players to be lifelong learners, yet coaches often hold on to the first things they learn as coaches (anchoring bias).

Moving Away From Winning as a Metric

Cody Alexander

April 11, 2021

Read full story

Sharing gives you feedback, and feedback leads to learning. Without feedback, we live in a zero-sum game because we only listen to our own voice, which is often entirely wrong.

Don’t end up looking a lot like my younger self—isolated, alone, and burned out. You may be on top now, but eventually, your ego will eat you.

In a recent podcast, Mike Lombardi talked about how the mask we put out to the world eventually eats our face. The dichotomy strains our psyche, eventually leading to breakdowns. It’s mentally exhausting to be angry all the time because you are putting on an act.

Collaboration can add depth to conversations, too.

If you are busy trying to be the most intelligent guy in the room, you will eventually notice no one is listening because you have left no room for anyone to get in edge-wise.

Once people have used you for your knowledge, they will move on, and you will be left with nothing unless you build relationships. Trust me; I know from experience.

The ability to listen is a lost art.

We tend to forget that God gave us two ears, two eyes, yet only one mouth.

As coaches, we often want to be the last one with the marker and the last one to get our jab in. It is hard to turn off the competitive switch in a highly competitive ecosystem and remember that football is a game kids play.

Ultimately, we end up modeling the game we play, which is a zero-sum game. In football, you either win or lose. Rarely, if ever, is there a tie.

In life, it doesn’t have to be that way. Everyone can add value if you let them in.

Coaches everywhere should hold themselves to a higher standard because we are a mirror for our student-athletes. It is up to us to reflect on them how a man should look and act. In a modern world where most kids have all the information they need at the touch of a button, they struggle to build relationships.

If we constantly play a zero-sum game, we leave no room for anyone else, not even our players. How can we be their mirrors when we have isolated ourselves?

Collaboration and feedback are crucial to success in any profession, especially in football. The cliche of the locker room as a microcosm of society has a point, yet many feel alienated because of the lack of feedback and genuine caring.

Our players (and subordinate coaches) feel isolated because, in many cases, they are treated like pawns and not human beings. Just win, baby!

My goal in everything I do is to teach and help someone grow, even if it is one small thing. I try to avoid always-and-never situations or telling people they can’t do something. What may work for me might not be successful for my fellow coaches.

Of course, there are always best-practice ways of doing things, but throwing a tantrum on social media or trying to “dunk” on a coach who hasn’t had the same experiences or exposure as I have doesn’t “win” me anything in the end.

Again, you are playing a zero-sum game, with no growth or value added. You are yelling into an abyss. Plus, you just made an enemy, which is never good.

An article in the Harvard Journal on self-awareness found that once people assume a certain level of power, they stop growing if they lack good self-awareness. The study found that many experienced leaders lacked the skill to assess their effectiveness. In short, they had cut themselves off from growth and, in turn, alienated themselves from their subordinates. The article explains:

“…experience can lead to a false sense of confidence about our performance, it can also make us overconfident about our level of self-knowledge.”

Hopefully, my failures as a leader, coach, and man can trigger something in you to think about and grow from.

I am not perfect, and I make mistakes every day. I own them now.

I tell my players, let me be the one who makes the “big” mistakes; learn from my failures so you can get a head start. I’ve made about every mistake you can make, from burning bridges to failing in my marriage. So if it wasn’t clear, don’t do what I did!

I’m still a work in progress, but I am trying to live a positive existence and be a shining light of influence to those around me at this point in my life. Whether in the coaches’ office, on the field, or on social media, coaches need to detach and ask themselves whether they are adding value to the situation or trying to win at a zero-sum game.

If it is the latter, take a deep breath, remove yourself from the situation, and examine what makes you feel the need to risk a relationship.

What are you gaining from the need to win this argument?

Usually, it is staring you in the mirror.

If you noticed, I didn’t use the word “why,” opting for the word “what.” Using phrases like “Why is this happening to me?” leads you down a path of invention and away from the truth. You create your reality and never take ownership of your faults and actions.

Doing this leads to less self-awareness and more mistakes. “Why” also leads to negative thoughts. “What,” on the other hand, leads to solutions. It’s easy to find problems.

To increase productivity, use “What is making this happen to me?” or “What is making me feel this way?” These statements allow you to focus on the issue, and you don’t become a “victim.” It forces you to take ownership and find a solution.

It is funny how life brings you full circle. When I left Life School Waxahachie in 2011, I was a naive kid who had no idea what it meant to be a great coach. I was arrogant enough to think I could quit my stable job, walk into the Baylor Football office, and become the next Nick Saban.

I got a tremendous education in football. Not every negative thing about yourself has to lead to a negative outcome. It’s all in how you play your cards.

Ten years later, I will embark on another chapter in my life alongside my best friend, my father. It is a dream come true for both of us.

To some, leaving the job I currently have to take this new one may seem strange, but I am no longer playing a zero-sum game. In my brief coaching career, I have learned that the people you surround yourself with matter much more than the title or named place you are at.

Freedom of expression, doing what you genuinely want to do, and having more time for the things I value, specifically my family, ultimately lead to a happy disposition and contentment. I’m also much more prepared to be a servant leader this time around. Without my failures in the past, I would not be at the place of peace I find myself in today, within this hectic profession.

I have been the coach with one foot out the door. I have been the coach who is hard to work with. I am that coach with an “interesting” resume that needs some clarification in interviews.

I own all of that, which gives me peace. Of course, I am a professional bridge burner, constantly trying to rebuild the destruction I leave behind.

If you’ve made it this far, let me leave you with one thing: it is better to create than to destroy.

Creation leads to innovation and collaboration. Destruction leads to envy, jealousy, and resentment - and there is no coming back from those. Relationships matter, and I know this firsthand from my failed ones in my brief career.

Hopefully, this speaks to you and helps you gain your happiness. Trust me, I’ve been the young and hungry coach who now has to look back and cringe at my actions.

Don’t be that guy. Don’t be me.

Finally, there will be people you don’t like, but ultimately, you will also not be appreciated at some point, too. The pendulum swings both ways, and loyalty, in many cases, is just a word to hold you in your place.

It is impossible to make everyone happy, but at the same time, you can’t be the only one who gets their way. We all have work to do, and we need each other to get it done.

Accountability is love, and without healthy relationships, where can we get genuine feedback? Without it, we will eventually lose or burn out.

Winning matters, don’t get me wrong. In many cases, we are hired to get fired in this profession, but we don’t always have to “lose.” Instead, we should try to learn by building up those around us when we attempt and fail, staying positive, though hard as it may be.

Iron sharpens iron; this should be common sense, but to many in this profession, they want to be the hammer, snuffing out those around them, fitting square pegs into round holes. The last time I checked, a hammer doesn’t sharpen the nail, and a square isn’t a circle.

Every day, I wake up and tell myself I am going to have a great day. Some days, that works, and others, it doesn’t, but it beats waking up with a cloud over my head.

You can live miserably and burn everything down, or you can build up those around you, lose your ego, and attempt to be a servant leader. Remember, we don’t know what goes on behind closed doors.

That is why I try not to get mad at people on social media or even at coaches I work with. Empathy is the path to understanding. In the end, relationships matter.

We are in the business of growing and developing people. Tell someone you love them today, and be that light.

Coach’s Note (2026): Add a few things from the original. Just turned 40, and everything in this piece still holds true. Ten years ago, I was broken, but I chose to change, and I am better for it. If you made it this far, thank you. It’s because of you I am able to do what I love. That is never lost on me. Humble is a hard word for me to swallow, but God makes sure I eat some “humble pie” when I need it.

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