Patio Pondering: Willie the Wildcat, a Microphone, and The Pressure Vessel

Mornings on the patio are different now that our youngest son has his driver's license. No more regular trips to the school drop-off line for me. This morning started with a bright sunrise as I poured my coffee, sat down, and did what I probably shouldn't do before the first sip: started scrolling.

After a click or two, my feed was full of Coach Jerome Tang, Kansas State's coach, and commentary on a two-minute postgame press conference that's now everywhere. After a 29-point loss to Cincinnati at home, with students wearing paper bags in the stands, he told the media his players don't deserve to wear the uniform. That very few of them would be back next year.

As a K-State alum, it's hard to watch. But what really got me wasn't the press conference. It was the 113 days before it.

Just ten days earlier, after a 34-point loss to Iowa State, Coach Tang told the media he wasn't disappointed. He was proud of his players' effort. Thirty-four-point loss. Proud of the effort. Then a 29-point loss and the whole thing comes apart.

For months, K-State fans watched two realities run side by side. The narrative at the podium: praise, progress, belief. And what was happening on the court: talent that wasn't being utilized, players who weren't functioning as a unit, performances that didn't match the story being told. The fans could see it. Every game, the gap got wider.

I've been there. Not in an arena. In a conference room.

I've sat in meetings listening to a supervisor praise the team, talk about great progress, paint a beautiful picture while my colleagues and I are giving each other side eyes. The "what is he talking about?" looks. No words needed. Because the people hearing the toxic positivity can usually see right through the fancy words and theatrics. They know something's not right in River City.

And I've been on the other side too. I've stood in meetings and said, "The project is going well. The plan is working. The team is doing a great job." Smile. Nod. Move on. Until the day it's, "Um... we've got a problem." And the building that had been smoldering for weeks couldn't hide behind fresh paint anymore.

That's not a leadership pivot. That's a pressure vessel failing.

Honest assessment isn't cruelty. It's respect. It's trusting the people around you enough to close the gap between what you're saying and what they can see, before someone else closes it for you.

If you're leading something right now and you can feel that gap opening, close it. Close it today. It doesn't get easier tomorrow. It just gets more expensive.

Coffee's cold. Sun's up. Go have an honest conversation with somebody.