Do you remember running around the neighborhood as a kid, with a pack of fellow neighborhood kids, until dark, or dinner, or whenever you were called in by mom? They weren’t necessarily your best friends, but they lived right up and down the street, so they were your ready-made band for impromptu games of tag, healthy exploring about, and other feral play.
And during some of those misadventures, someone would dare someone else to do something, something just a little outside their comfort zone (or, let’s face it, a lot). To cross the creek. To hop the fence. To get on the roof. To ring that doorbell and ask that new kid if they want to play.
And it was of course always more impressive when the darer called out that dare from the other side of that creek, from over that fence, from the top of that roof.
Am I suggesting we should take our lead in coaching style from neighborhood kids who may or may not have had our best interests at heart? Sorta! I’m not suggesting you indulge in the rude aspects, like asking if your client is a chicken and saying “bawk, bawk, bawk” absent a spirited denial of their chicken-hood. But I am suggesting that there’s actually, surprisingly, something special about the whole “daring” thing that has high utility in coaching.
And you can give that to your clients, as a wizened, grown-up version of the whole thing.
Because when your typical dare1I’m putting aside junk dares, i.e. those that are either or both (1) purely mocking (something clearly not doable by the dared) or (2) grossly irresponsible (illegal, exceedingly dangerous, etc.). Those happen, but I’m talking about ones that are NOT essentially mean spirited or dumb. is made among kids, there’s an implicit suggestion to the daree that “Hey, I know you think you can’t do this, but you know what? I bet you can.” There might even be a dash of “I respect your ability enough to dangle that in front of your face.”, which is way more flattering than a presumption of smallness and inability. There’s something, ironically, very inclusive about daring someone to do something.
And so you can bring this empowering mojo to the mix of your coaching. It’s easy. You’ve been tracking with us, you know what drives us; what we’re playing for, what we want. You can put two and two together and therefore can probably see, perhaps even easier than we can see, certain bold strokes that would get us there faster.
And you can dare us to do those2Doubly so if you coach in a realm where you yourself have already made it, which has you, metaphorically, calling down to us from the rooftop to make it happen..
You just make space in the conversation to do so. You tell us, “Hey, remember making dares as kids? Yeah, I’m gonna do that with you now. I dare you to do that.”
Straight faced. No heat, no goading, no mockery. Just: “Yeah, that thing, right there. That you see would move you along. That would be a little bold and scary to just go and do. Yeah, I dare you to do that.”
And if we hesitate, you can tack on, ideally with a twinkle in your eye, “If it helps, I am prepared to double-dog dare you. I just believe in it, and you, that much.” And assure us that, no matter how it goes, you’ll be here to help us shake it off if we need it.
One of my best coaches got me to LOVE IT when he dared me to do something. I loved it because I knew that if he dared me, it was probably both what I most needed to do and was most apt to resist. It was a clear signal to follow, with the promise of either getting to proudly report “mission accomplished”, or knowing he’d have my back to regroup if I failed or faltered.
You can actually get your clients to love it when you dare them.
I dare you to get your clients to love you daring them.
Notes:
- 1I’m putting aside junk dares, i.e. those that are either or both (1) purely mocking (something clearly not doable by the dared) or (2) grossly irresponsible (illegal, exceedingly dangerous, etc.). Those happen, but I’m talking about ones that are NOT essentially mean spirited or dumb.
- 2Doubly so if you coach in a realm where you yourself have already made it, which has you, metaphorically, calling down to us from the rooftop to make it happen.
