The Captain Class

The Captain Class Plot Summary

Introduction

What makes a team truly great? Is it star power, coaching genius, or something more elusive? This question has fascinated sports fans and business leaders alike for generations. In 2004, while covering the Boston Red Sox's improbable championship run, I witnessed a transformation that defied conventional wisdom. A talented but underperforming collection of players suddenly became an unstoppable force. The catalyst wasn't a coaching change or a roster overhaul, but something far more subtle. This observation launched a decade-long investigation into the DNA of history's most dominant teams. Rather than relying on subjective opinions, I developed a rigorous methodology to identify the sixteen most exceptional teams across all major sports. These weren't merely good teams that won championships; they were dynasties that maintained extraordinary levels of excellence over multiple years, often revolutionizing their sports in the process. What emerged from studying these elite teams wasn't what anyone expected - the common denominator wasn't superstar talent, tactical innovation, or coaching brilliance. It was a specific type of captain.

Chapter 1: Defining Greatness: The Search for Sports' Most Dominant Teams

What makes a team truly great? This question has fascinated sports enthusiasts for generations. In the world of sports, where margins of victory can be razor-thin and where one small mistake can overwhelm an hour of flawless play, achieving consistent excellence is extraordinarily difficult. Yet throughout history, certain teams have managed to dominate their sports for extended periods, winning championship after championship with seemingly effortless precision. Consider the 1950s Hungarian soccer team, nicknamed the "Golden Team" or "Mighty Magyars." In 1953, they traveled to London's Wembley Stadium and defeated England 6-3, ending England's 81-year unbeaten home record against teams from outside the British Isles. The Hungarians weren't physically imposing - in fact, they looked almost comical in their cherry-red tops that clung to their torsos, making them appear even smaller than they were. But their fluid style of play, tactical innovations, and remarkable precision helped them achieve an astonishing record: between 1950 and 1956, they played 53 matches and lost only twice. To identify the most elite teams in sports history, a rigorous methodology was developed. First, what constitutes a "team" in the fullest sense? It must have at least five members (eliminating doubles tennis and similar small groups), its members must interact with opponents (ruling out relay teams), and teammates must work together (excluding individual sports like gymnastics where scores are merely aggregated). Second, teams must have played major sports against top competition and sustained their dominance for at least four seasons. Using these criteria and examining over 1,200 teams across 37 sports since the 1880s, a clear pattern emerged. The truly elite teams included the 1927-30 Collingwood Magpies (Australian rules football), the 1949-53 New York Yankees (baseball), the 1950-55 Hungarian national soccer team, the 1955-60 Montreal Canadiens (hockey), and the 1956-69 Boston Celtics (basketball), among others that achieved unprecedented levels of success. What's particularly fascinating is that these teams didn't just win - they revolutionized their sports. The Hungarians' fluid style of play, where players switched positions depending on circumstances, destroyed the notion that soccer teams were collections of individuals with specific, rigid roles. This approach influenced every soccer dynasty that followed, from Brazil's teams of the 1960s to Barcelona's squads of the 2000s. As these extraordinary teams were examined more closely, a surprising pattern emerged. Their success wasn't primarily due to having the most talented players, the richest owners, or even the most innovative coaches. Instead, their greatness stemmed from something much less obvious - something that would challenge conventional wisdom about what drives team excellence.

Chapter 2: The Captain Theory: Leadership Patterns in Elite Teams

In 1957, during the seventh game of the NBA Finals between the Boston Celtics and the St. Louis Hawks, a moment occurred that would come to symbolize the birth of basketball's greatest dynasty. With seconds remaining and the Celtics trailing by a point, Jack Coleman of the Hawks received an outlet pass at midcourt with a clear path to the basket. As Coleman went up for what appeared to be an uncontested layup, a "giant white-shirted blur" came from nowhere, blocking the shot against the backboard. That blur was Bill Russell, the Celtics' 23-year-old rookie center. This play, known as the "Coleman Play," is considered one of the finest defensive efforts in NBA history. To make this block, Russell had accelerated from a dead stop to reach an average speed of 21 miles per hour - a pace that would have won him a gold medal in the 100-meter dash at the previous year's Olympics. Inspired by Russell's passion, Boston went on to win in double overtime, earning their first NBA title. Over the next twelve seasons, including that one, the Celtics would draw on this never-say-die energy to win ten more NBA championships, including eight in a row. What made this run even more remarkable was that the Celtics weren't statistically dominant. They didn't lead the NBA in points scored, points allowed, or margin of victory. No Celtics player led the NBA in scoring during the streak, and in seven of their eleven championship seasons, they didn't place a single scorer in the top ten. Looking more closely at the Celtics' timeline revealed something striking: Before Russell arrived in 1956, Boston had never won an NBA title. In his rookie year, that changed. Then, twelve years later, after winning championship number eleven, Russell retired - and the Celtics promptly collapsed, posting their first losing record in twenty years. The timing was so uncanny that it suggested Russell himself might have been the catalyst. This pattern wasn't unique to the Celtics. When examining all sixteen teams in the top tier of sports dynasties, a remarkable correlation emerged: each team's period of dominance corresponded with the arrival and departure of one particular player. And with eerie regularity, that person was, or would eventually become, the captain - the figure who holds sway over the dressing room by speaking to teammates as a peer, counseling them on and off the field, motivating them, challenging them, protecting them, resolving disputes, enforcing standards, inspiring fear when necessary, and above all setting a tone with words and deeds. This discovery pointed to a radical idea: could it be that the one thing that lifts a team into the top 0.001 percent of teams in history is the leader of the players? This "captain theory" would only hold if these men and women shared common traits across different sports and eras. But there was an immediate obstacle to this theory - many of these captains, including Bill Russell himself, didn't seem to fit the conventional profile of great leaders.

Chapter 3: Servant Leadership: Why Water Carriers Create Champions

The most counterintuitive discovery about elite team captains was their relationship to stardom and individual achievement. In an era that celebrates individual brilliance and personal brand-building, the greatest team leaders in sports history consistently prioritized service to the collective over personal glory. This principle was perfectly captured in a 1996 incident involving French soccer star Eric Cantona and his national team captain, Didier Deschamps. In a newspaper interview before a crucial match, Cantona dismissively referred to Deschamps as a "water carrier" - a limited player whose only job was to win the ball and pass it to more talented teammates. The comment was intended as an insult, suggesting Deschamps was merely a functional player unworthy of acclaim. When reporters asked Deschamps about this characterization after his team defeated Cantona's, he responded with remarkable equanimity: "I don't mind being called a water carrier." Rather than rejecting the label, he embraced it as a badge of honor. This water-carrying mentality defined virtually all the captains of history's greatest teams. Tim Duncan, despite being one of basketball's most skilled players, consistently sacrificed personal statistics to elevate teammates. He even took substantially less money than his market value to help the San Antonio Spurs sign other talented players. "The best way to look at one's teammates," Duncan said, "is that you're helping them as much as they're helping you." This selflessness created a culture where everyone prioritized team success over individual accolades. The Brazilian national soccer teams of 1958-62 provided perhaps the most striking example of this principle. Despite having Pelé, widely considered the greatest player in soccer history, Brazil never made him captain. When asked why, Pelé explained: "If Santos or Brazil's national team has a captain other than me, then we have two players on the field that have the respect of the officials - Pelé and the captain. If I became captain, we would lose one." This remarkable insight revealed how the greatest player in the sport recognized that leadership required a different skill set than athletic brilliance. Instead, Brazil's captains during their dominant era were defensive players like Hilderaldo Bellini and Mauro Ramos - men who specialized in the unglamorous work of stopping opponents rather than scoring goals. This pattern repeated across different sports and eras. Carla Overbeck, who captained the dominant U.S. women's soccer team of the 1990s, was a defender who scored only seven goals in her entire international career. Yet her selfless approach - carrying teammates' bags on road trips, running extra sprints in training, playing through injuries - earned her the moral authority to demand excellence from everyone. The paradox of this water-carrying approach is that by lowering themselves in service to the team, these captains actually increased their influence. By demonstrating that they had no personal agenda beyond collective success, they earned the trust necessary to lead effectively in crucial moments. Their teammates knew their guidance came from a place of genuine commitment to the group rather than self-interest or ego.

Chapter 4: Emotional Intelligence: The Kill Switch in Critical Moments

The ability to regulate emotion under extreme pressure emerged as perhaps the most crucial characteristic of elite team captains. While these leaders often displayed and even cultivated intense emotions to motivate their teams, they also possessed what might be called an emotional "kill switch" - the capacity to shut down negative feelings that might impair performance in critical situations. This trait was dramatically illustrated during the 2009 World Handball Championship final. Just hours before France faced Croatia for the world title, French captain Jérôme Fernandez received devastating news. His father, who had been his first handball coach and closest confidant, was dying of cancer. Doctors predicted he had only days to live. Fernandez faced an agonizing choice: rush home to be with his father or lead his team in the championship match. After consulting with his mother, who urged him to play, and his coach, who offered to remove him from the lineup if he wasn't mentally prepared, Fernandez made his decision: "Je veux jouer pour mon père," he said. ("I want to play for my father.") What makes this story remarkable isn't just Fernandez's choice to play, but his decision not to tell his teammates about his father's condition. He worried that sharing such emotional news might disrupt their focus. "If a teammate says, 'My father is dying,' that can disturb the entire group and cause the team to lose," he explained. Instead, he compartmentalized his grief and played one of the finest matches of his career, scoring a spectacular goal in the closing minutes to seal France's victory. Only afterward, when his teammates found him sobbing on the court, did they learn what he had been going through. This capacity for emotional regulation wasn't unique to Fernandez. Rechelle Hawkes, captain of Australia's dominant women's field hockey team, demonstrated similar fortitude under different circumstances. After leading her team to multiple championships, Hawkes was informed by her coach that he was eliminating the permanent captaincy just before the 2000 Sydney Olympics. Despite this personal humiliation, Hawkes continued to lead the team informally, maintaining her commitment and positive attitude. Then, in the ultimate slight, she wasn't even named match captain for the Olympic final - her last game before retirement. Rather than allowing this snub to affect her performance, Hawkes compartmentalized her feelings and played brilliantly, helping Australia win the gold medal. "You have to regulate emotion," she explained. "You can bring it back at some later stage, but when you know you've got something to do, you can remove it from your thoughts, put it in a vault, and get on with what you need to get on with." Maurice Richard of the Montreal Canadiens provided a compelling example of emotional development. Early in his career, Richard was notorious for his volcanic temper, which frequently resulted in penalties and suspensions that hurt his team. After a particularly serious incident in 1955 that sparked riots in Montreal, Richard's new coach, Toe Blake, worked intensively with him to control his emotions. "If you want to win," Blake told him, "you have to control your temper like you control the puck." Richard gradually transformed himself, reducing his penalty minutes and channeling his intensity more productively. This emotional intelligence manifested differently across various captains, but the pattern was consistent. They understood that allowing negative emotions to dominate - whether anger, fear, grief, or resentment - would diminish their effectiveness and, by extension, their team's performance. Instead, they developed mechanisms to process these feelings without being controlled by them.

Chapter 5: Principled Dissent: Standing Apart for Team Success

One of the most surprising discoveries about elite team captains was their willingness to challenge authority and conventional wisdom when they believed it served their team's interests. Far from being compliant yes-men or women, these leaders demonstrated remarkable courage in standing apart from the crowd - even when doing so invited criticism or punishment. This principled dissent, however, was fundamentally different from mere rebelliousness or ego-driven contrarianism. The dramatic confrontation between Soviet hockey captain Valeri Vasiliev and his coach Viktor Tikhonov exemplifies this principle. Following the Soviet Union's shocking loss to the United States at the 1980 Lake Placid Olympics - the famous "Miracle on Ice" - Tikhonov began blaming veteran players for the defeat while speaking to officials on the flight home. When Vasiliev overheard these comments from his seat near the cockpit, he stormed into the first-class cabin, grabbed Tikhonov by the neck, and threatened to throw him from the plane. "We agreed that we lost as a team!" he shouted. This explosive confrontation could have ended Vasiliev's career. In the authoritarian Soviet sports system, such insubordination typically resulted in severe punishment. Instead, when the team elected a new captain the following year, they chose Vasiliev - and remarkably, the authorities allowed this decision to stand. Under his leadership, the team embarked on one of the most dominant runs in hockey history, winning twelve of thirteen possible championships over the next four years. A different but equally instructive example came from Philipp Lahm of Bayern Munich. In 2009, with his team struggling despite a roster loaded with talent, Lahm gave an unauthorized interview to a German newspaper criticizing the club's strategic approach. "If you want to compete with Barcelona, Chelsea, and Manchester United," he said, "then you need a playing philosophy. One cannot simply buy players because they are good." This public challenge to management violated team rules and earned Lahm the largest fine in club history. Yet rather than undermining the team, Lahm's principled stand had the opposite effect. After initially struggling, Bayern went on to win the league championship that season. In subsequent years, the club implemented many of the changes Lahm had advocated, eventually winning the Champions League and establishing itself as one of Europe's dominant teams. Lahm himself was later named captain and led both Bayern and the German national team to historic achievements. What distinguished these acts of dissent from ordinary rebellion was their fundamental motivation. Neither Vasiliev nor Lahm was acting out of self-interest or ego. They weren't seeking personal advantage or settling scores. Instead, they were taking principled stands based on their understanding of what their teams needed to succeed. Vasiliev was protecting his teammates from being scapegoated. Lahm was advocating for a coherent strategic vision that would maximize his team's potential. This willingness to stand apart extended beyond confrontations with management. Many elite captains also held their teammates accountable, demanding excellence even when doing so created temporary tension. Bill Russell of the Boston Celtics was known for his unflinching criticism of teammates who weren't giving their best effort. Jack Lambert of the Pittsburgh Steelers would confront fellow players in the team sauna after games, creating what teammates called a "no-bullshit zone" where honest feedback was expected and accepted.

Chapter 6: False Idols: Leadership Misconceptions in Modern Sports

Our cultural understanding of leadership has been profoundly shaped by compelling but ultimately misleading examples. Nowhere is this more evident than in the widespread admiration for two sports icons whose leadership approaches diverged significantly from those of history's most successful team captains: Roy Keane of Manchester United and Michael Jordan of the Chicago Bulls. Their stories reveal how we often mistake certain visible traits - intensity, dominance, star power - for effective leadership, while overlooking the quieter qualities that actually drive team success. Roy Keane embodied many characteristics of elite captains. He was fiercely competitive, tactically astute, and willing to do unglamorous work in midfield. He avoided celebrity culture, preferring his local pub to star-studded events. On the night teammate David Beckham married Spice Girl Victoria Adams in a lavish ceremony attended by celebrities from around the world, Keane spent the evening drinking alone at his neighborhood bar. His intensity on the field was legendary, as demonstrated in a 1999 Champions League semifinal against Juventus when he delivered a captain's performance so magnificent that even opposing fans applauded him off the pitch. Yet Keane differed from elite captains in one crucial respect: he lacked emotional regulation. His aggression frequently crossed the line from instrumental (serving a purpose) to hostile (intended to harm). He accumulated nearly seventy yellow cards and thirteen red cards during his Premier League career. In one infamous incident, he deliberately injured an opponent as revenge for a taunt made four years earlier, later writing: "My attitude was fuck him. What goes around comes around." Unlike Maurice Richard, who learned to control his temper, Keane seemed to revel in his inability to do so. Michael Jordan presents an even more compelling case of leadership misconceptions. Widely considered basketball's greatest player and often cited as the ultimate team leader, Jordan led the Chicago Bulls to six NBA championships in the 1990s. Like elite captains, he was extraordinarily competitive and demanded excellence from teammates. Unlike them, however, Jordan was obsessed with personal glory and often undermined team cohesion through his treatment of teammates. When the Bulls acquired veteran center Bill Cartwright in 1988, Jordan - upset about losing his friend Charles Oakley in the trade - openly mocked Cartwright, calling him "Medical Bill" because of his knee problems and sometimes refusing to pass him the ball. The team struggled to reach its potential until 1990, when coach Phil Jackson made a surprising move: he named Cartwright co-captain alongside Jordan. With this leadership balance in place, the Bulls immediately won their first NBA championship, followed by two more. After three titles, Jordan abruptly retired in 1993, citing boredom with basketball. This decision - abandoning his team at the height of their success - represented a fundamental departure from the commitment shown by elite captains. When Jordan returned to basketball eighteen months later, the Bulls struggled until they reestablished their championship form. They won three more titles before Jordan retired again in 1998, ending the dynasty. Jordan's leadership approach was driven by a need to feel slighted and underestimated, which he used as motivation. "That's how I got myself motivated," he once explained. "I had to trick myself, to find a focus to go out and play at a certain level." This mindset required him to constantly manufacture grievances, even when he was universally acknowledged as the game's greatest player. The contrast between these false idols and true elite captains reveals a fundamental misunderstanding about leadership. We often equate leadership with dominance, star power, and intensity - qualities that make for compelling television and memorable quotes. The actual characteristics that drive sustained team excellence - emotional regulation, selfless service, principled dissent focused on tasks rather than personalities - are less visible and less celebrated, but ultimately more effective.

Chapter 7: Reviving True Leadership: Lessons Beyond the Playing Field

The institution of captaincy in sports has fallen into decline in recent years, with troubling implications for team performance and organizational culture. This shift reflects broader societal trends that prioritize individual stardom over collective excellence and short-term financial considerations over sustainable success. Understanding this decline - and how to reverse it - offers valuable insights not just for sports teams but for organizations of all kinds seeking to build cohesive, high-performing cultures. The erosion of captaincy has taken several forms. Some teams have eliminated the position entirely, believing it to be outdated or unnecessary. In 2012, the NFL's New York Jets decided not to name any captains, suggesting this would "force guys to step up and take ownership." After posting an 8-8 record the previous season, they dropped to 6-10. Two years later, the Boston Celtics - Bill Russell's Boston Celtics - traded away their captain and left the position vacant. When Derek Jeter retired in 2014, the New York Yankees suggested they might retire the captaincy altogether, with general manager Brian Cashman explaining: "We have a number of different people that are very strong leaders and high-quality individuals. That doesn't mean you have to put a C on it." Other teams have reduced the captaincy to a marketing tool or ego-management device. Arsenal football club named Robin van Persie captain in 2011 not because of his leadership qualities but in a desperate attempt to prevent him from leaving the team. The strategy failed spectacularly - van Persie departed for rival Manchester United the following season. The New York Mets made their rationale even more explicit when naming David Wright captain after signing him to a $138 million contract. "I think the decision was made when we gave him the contract," said co-owner Jeff Wilpon. "When you commit that kind of money and resources to a guy like this, you want to make sure he's the leader." This devaluation of captaincy coincided with dramatic changes in sports economics. As television revenues exploded, teams became increasingly focused on creating marketable entertainment products rather than building cohesive units. Star players and celebrity coaches commanded unprecedented salaries and influence, creating dual power centers that squeezed out the middle-management role traditionally filled by captains. Similar trends have emerged in business, where many companies have embraced "flat" organizational structures that eliminate middle management layers. The theory is that star employees will be more productive and more likely to stay when given autonomy and direct access to top executives. While this approach may increase agility in some contexts, it also removes the crucial mediating role that effective team leaders provide - translating high-level strategy into practical action, maintaining cohesion, and addressing problems before they escalate. The decline of captaincy reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of leadership. We've come to equate leadership with charisma, talent, and inspirational speeches - qualities embodied by transformational figures like Moses, Gandhi, or Martin Luther King Jr. This idealized view sets an impossibly high bar, leading organizations to conclude that true leadership is so rare they might as well do without it. Research by Israeli psychologist Reuven Gal offers a more realistic perspective. After studying soldiers who had won medals for gallantry in combat, Gal discovered they weren't extraordinary individuals with rare genetic gifts. They came from diverse backgrounds and had varied personalities. What united them was a combination of potential, motivation, and development. "They are certainly not a group of 'supermen,'" Gal wrote. "They are not born heroes, either; they become heroes." This insight applies directly to team leadership. The captains of history's greatest teams weren't born with unique leadership genes. They developed their capabilities through experience and commitment. Yogi Berra learned to manage a pitching staff by dedicating himself to improvement. Maurice Richard developed emotional control through practice and coaching. Tim Duncan mastered the art of practical communication by observing what his teammates needed and adapting his approach accordingly.

Summary

The most powerful insight from studying history's greatest teams is that leadership looks nothing like what we've been conditioned to expect. We celebrate charismatic stars who deliver inspirational speeches and carry teams through force of personality. Yet the captains who actually led teams to unprecedented heights were often quiet, unglamorous figures who prioritized service over stardom. They weren't necessarily the most talented players, the most articulate speakers, or the most magnetic personalities. Instead, they demonstrated seven specific traits: extreme doggedness, carrying water for others, practical communication, emotional regulation, principled dissent, aggressive nonverbal displays, and the courage to stand apart. This disconnect between perception and reality has profound implications. Teams frequently select the wrong leaders, prioritizing talent or marketability over leadership capacity. They tolerate or even encourage behaviors that undermine team cohesion. Some have abandoned structured leadership altogether, believing it outdated or unnecessary. These misconceptions prevent potentially great teams from reaching their full potential. The remedy isn't searching for unicorns with rare leadership genes, but recognizing that effective leadership consists of specific, developable behaviors: regulating emotions in critical moments, communicating practically rather than grandly, serving others selflessly, and standing up for principles even when doing so is uncomfortable or unpopular. The decline of captaincy in sports mirrors broader societal trends that prioritize individual achievement over collective excellence. Yet the lessons from history's greatest teams remain relevant for any organization seeking to build a culture of sustained success.

About Author

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Sam Walker

Sam Walker is The Wall Street Journal’s deputy editor for enterprise, the unit that directs the paper’s in-depth page-one features and investigative reporting projects. A former reporter, sports columnist, and sports editor, Walker founded the Journal’s prizewinning daily sports coverage in 2009.In addition to The Captain Class, he is the author of Fantasyland, a bestselling account of his attempt to win America’s top fantasy baseball expert competition (of which he is a two-time champion).Walker attended the University of Michigan. He lives in New York City with his wife and two children.

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