Playoff Intensity

A client said something to me recently that stuck with me.

We were talking about his career, his goals, and why someone with his ability had made so little progress toward some of the things he said he wanted.

At one point, he described himself as "lackadaisical."

I didn't completely agree.

I'd seen him perform. When challenged, he responded. When the spotlight was on him, he showed up. Give him a deadline or enough pressure and suddenly there was another level of focus and intensity.

The problem wasn't whether he could turn it on.

The problem was what it took to make him turn it on.

That's when the basketball analogy hit me.

"You're moving through life like it's an NBA preseason game."

He laughed.

I was serious.

Preseason Living

Think about the preseason.

Players compete, but everybody knows the games don't count. There's effort, but there's not the same urgency. The season is long. There's time to figure things out.

Some of us approach life the same way.

We'll start taking our health seriously later.

We'll make the career move later.

We'll finally do that thing we've been talking about doing for five years... later.

We haven't decided not to do it.

We just haven't decided to do it now.

That's preseason living.

The regular season is different. Now the games matter.

But anyone who has watched enough NBA basketball has seen a team look flat for three quarters and then suddenly, in the fourth, everything changes.

The defense tightens. Players start diving for loose balls. Possessions matter more.

Where was that for the first three quarters?

That's what I saw in my client.

He had fourth-quarter intensity.

Put enough pressure on him and he'd respond. Challenge him and he'd respond. Put the spotlight on him and he'd respond.

Most of us have another gear when circumstances demand it.

The problem comes when circumstances are the only thing that can access that gear.

At some point, you have to stop needing life to make things urgent for you.

Playoff Intensity

The playoffs feel different.

Preparation gets more detailed. Mistakes become more costly. Possessions that seemed routine during the regular season suddenly matter because there aren't an unlimited number of games left to fix things.

That's the difference I was trying to explain to him.

What I called his fourth-quarter intensity was reactive. What I wanted him to develop was playoff intensity: intentional, consistent, and present before circumstances forced it out of him.

"You have fourth-quarter intensity," I told him. "What you don't have yet is playoff intensity."

The Playoff Intensity Progression

And because I've suffered through enough Atlanta Hawks seasons, I had to take the analogy one step further.

"You're living your life like the Hawks."

He laughed.

So did I.

But I was serious.

The Hawks have had talent. They've had stretches when they looked capable of competing with anybody. But there's a difference between being talented enough to compete and developing the consistency required to contend.

That's what I saw in him.

Enough ability to remain competitive. Enough intelligence to get by. Enough talent to occasionally remind everyone what he was capable of.

But flashes of potential aren't sustained excellence.

And at some point, potential stops being a compliment.

The 82-Game Problem

There's something else about basketball that makes this analogy even more interesting.

An NBA regular season is 82 games. That's remarkably close to the average U.S. life expectancy (about 79 years).

What if every game represented one year?

At Game 18, the season feels endless.

Game 25? Plenty of basketball left.

Game 40? Still time to make a run.

That's one of life's great illusions.

We think we have time.

Maybe we do.

But none of us actually knows how many games are on our schedule. And even when we're fortunate enough to get a long season, it moves much faster than we expect.

Believe me.

The last time I looked up, I was playing high school basketball.

Time rarely feels like it's passing while we're busy living it.

Then one day you look at the scoreboard and wonder:

Damn. When did that happen?

None of this means walking around treating every moment like an emergency. That's not sustainable excellence. That's anxiety.

Playoff intensity doesn't mean working harder every waking minute.

It means understanding what matters enough that you don't need a crisis, deadline, boss, diagnosis, breakup, or somebody shining a spotlight on you before you give it your attention.

The goal isn't intensity for intensity's sake.

It's intentionality.

Knowing what matters. Knowing why it matters. And behaving accordingly while there's still time to do something about it.

Because too many of us are trying to live with:

Preseason effort. Regular-season urgency. Championship expectations.

We want championship outcomes while living with preseason habits.

Eventually, the habits become the record.

And the record becomes the season.

What Game Are You In?

I started thinking about all of this because of one client who described himself as lackadaisical.

But the more I've thought about that conversation, the less I think it was just about him.

It's about me too.

Probably you.

All of us have some area of our lives where we're still behaving like the games don't quite count yet.

Something we're going to get serious about.

Eventually.

So maybe the question isn't whether you're motivated.

Maybe it isn't even whether you're talented.

What game are you in?

And perhaps more importantly:

Why are you still playing like it's preseason?

You won't win every possession.

You won't win every game.

But the season is already underway.

Play accordingly.

Dr. Brian S. Maiden is an executive coach and leadership consultant.