The overlooked quality is that Steinbrenner learned from his mistakes. Toward the end of his 37-year reign, even before his health issues shifted the operational decision-making authority to his executive team, he interfered much less with the running of the organization. He discovered the importance of allowing the professionals he hired to be left alone to do what they were hired to do. They answered to him for their performance in no uncertain terms, but as time went on he tinkered less and less with the numerous peripheral decisions that went into running the ballclub.

One of his best qualities, I think, was his insistence on winning. Now some who read this will blanch at that statement, offering the “winning isn’t everything” view. If that’s your mind set, then I’d ask you to think of it this way: insert your preferred bottom line for “winning ballgames.” Perhaps you believe that facilitating the activity of people of character is the ultimate outcome. Maybe it’s winning people to Christ. It might be running a business with integrity or profitability. Fill in the blank. My point is that George was the leader, he established a well-defined vision of success, and he let nothing stand in his way in order to achieve it.

When Steinbrenner bought the team, it was in disrepair: they had not won a championship in 11 years and had lost the competitive fire that had made the Yankees baseball’s most storied franchise. Steinbrenner bought the team from CBS for $8.7 million in 1973. Today, that same team is worth $1.6 billion. There are various reasons for that explosion of value, but the most significant is that he had a clear and compelling vision and he put all of his resources behind it. During his 37-year era the Yankees won 16 division titles, 11 pennants and 7 world championships. Did he do it with the same style you or I would recommend? Probably not. But you cannot help but be struck by the impact of a single-minded quest to make a vision come to pass. Style is negotiable; vision is not.

I believe it is possible to learn something from every leader you observe, whether they are tremendous, awful or somewhere in-between. The Steinbrenner years provide a library of lessons on leadership, but I think none of those lessons shouts for attention as loudly as the importance of a clear vision and the passion to enforce it.

How does Steinbrenner’s single-mindedness about something that is arguably insignificant – professional athletes winning baseball games – compare to your vision and commitment related to ministry? Without that vision as the centerpiece of his reign, the Yankees would have been just another team with a wealthy, loudmouthed, often obnoxious owner. A compelling vision changes everything. What’s your story?

The day before the game I received a thank you for the purchase and the team’s best wishes regarding my experience at their ball park. I attended the game, which was enjoyable, but then the most interesting part of the experience unfolded. The evening of the game (it was an afternoon event) I began receiving a series of very positive emails from them. The first one was a great recap of the game, along with video highlights, which served as a reminder of the pleasurable experience they had provided. The next was another thank you for attending the game and asking if I had any suggestions for how they could improve my next encounter with them – service, food, parking, etc. The third was a link to their ticketing process, enabling me to buy tickets for upcoming games.

Using the simplest of technologies (e-mail) the team helped me to feel like they wanted to take care of me and was willing to go beyond taking my money. They provided a sense that they cared about my experience and gave me with some nice post-game benefits (the recap and video highlights, not to mention a discount on team merchandise). Sure, it’s all marketing but it was done in such a way that I would not hesitate to return to that city and attend a game next time I’m there.

It made me wonder how well we use the technology available to us when people attend or visit our churches. Do we, as the leaders of the church, take the initiative to engage people in an ongoing sense of community and dialogue about the church experience? How tough would it be for a church to pursue feedback, or to send an e-mail with highlights of the sermon (or, if copyright restrictions don’t come into play, the worship music)? How many teachers invite congregants to participate by sending ideas for forthcoming sermons? The list of possibilities for such engagement is endless.

I don’t see many churches doing this. Granted, it’s more work and could be construed as intrusive. You’d have to get contact information. Tech-driven marketing never makes up for the absence of the personal touch. And maybe it doesn’t add a sense of value to people’s experience. How has your ministry used technology to facilitate meaning follow-up? How have people responded? How do you figure out whether it’s worth the effort? What are some approaches you hope to try in the future?

I find such simplicity and directness in Mr. Hill’s response unusual and refreshing. He is a 7-time All-Star himself, a man of great talent and someone seeking to become a champion in his sport before he retires. Imagine such a person admitting that he has been so dominated by his opponent he doesn’t even know how to distinguish good from bad! If only we had more leaders who were willing to be so honest.

How tiresome it is listening to leaders pontificate on things about which they know nothing. During my media training for publicity tours, I’ve been taught that you should never say you don’t know the answer to a question posed by an interviewer. The standard ploy is to provide an answer to something you do know, even if it does not address the question that was asked. I have used that strategy on a number of occasions, but every time I do so I become uncomfortable with the practice: after all, it is meant to portray me in a way that perhaps I do not deserve to be portrayed. It may be clever, but is it honest? Is it better to be seen as knowing something when you don’t, or to admit to ignorance and be seen as – well, ignorant?

This reminds me of a quote from George Orwell: “In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.” Are we living in an era where we need many more leaders who will engage in such “revolutionary” behavior, regardless of the consequences? Do we need to train followers to embrace such revolutionary acts because of the benefits of having leaders who choose integrity over self-preservation?

Davis, a Brit who has been on the PGA tour for years without a tournament victory under his belt, was battling Jim Furyk, the world’s sixth-ranked golfer, for the tournament crown and prize money. Finishing in a tie after regulation play, they entered into a sudden death playoff. On the first hole of the playoff, Davis hit a ball that went off the side of the green, down some rocks and settled on the hard sand bordering Calibogue Sound.

As Davis chipped his shot onto the green, his club grazed one of the reeds sticking out of the sand. He didn’t see it clearly because he was concentrating on his shot, but as soon as his ball rolled to a stop, he approached the tournament director and indicated that he wasn’t sure but believed his club may have touched a stray reed on his backswing. (FYI, the course rules stated that moving any object on the course other than the ball and grass receives a penalty.) The director stopped play to view a video playback and, sure enough, a reed swayed slightly as Davis’s club nicked it – so slight a tap that the movement of the reed was detectable only via slow-motion playback! Viewing it, Davis assessed himself a two-stroke penalty and, with that act of honesty, handed Furyk the victory.

It not only prevented Davis from winning his first professional tournament but also cost him $411,000 in prize money.

Think about this. Nobody but Davis saw the infraction. In fact, not even he saw it clearly – he merely suspected it may have happened. Rather than ignore the possibility of an infraction and instead win his first PGA event, he did the right thing. The honest thing. A costly thing. In an age where it seems as if every athlete is challenging authority and rules to get an edge on the competition, Davis’s behavior seems almost unsportsmanlike in its adherence to the letter of the law.

Moved by the video clip I had seen of this event the night it happened, I cruised the headlines of the major sports websites the following morning, looking for the adulation such a choice should have received. Nada. It was not evident anywhere. I had to dig through a series of articles on the ESPN site to find a recap of the moment. That article was very complimentary toward Davis, but the write-up itself was buried. Maybe that was because the tournament didn’t stack up well when compared to the importance of the NBA playoffs or other sports events happening that day. Or maybe it’s because Americans are just so dedicated to winning that we don’t care much about character.

After all the ends justify the means.

I sure hope others saw that act of honesty and courage and share it. I was blessed to be watching the sportscast that showed the clip with one of my daughters. Neither of us cares for golf (I was waiting for the Lakers highlights to be shown – they finally had a few) but I was so thunderstruck by the brief report of Davis’s choice that I replayed it for both of us to see several times. What a wonderful example for us to discuss and to watch unfold. I hope you get to see it somewhere and enjoy the beauty of someone who lives the values we claim to embrace.