When No Is the Right Answer
A reflection on the hard but necessary practice of saying no with empathy—and why boundaries are what make adult relationships work.
Why I Don’t Lead with Answers Anymore
I used to think leadership meant having the answer. But over time—through parenting, running a business, and watching one brilliant baseball coach reframe a moment—I’ve come to believe something else: asking the right question might be the most powerful move we can make. This post is about the shift from control to curiosity, and what happens when we lead with belief instead of certainty.
Why I Don’t Lead with Answers Anymore
I used to think leadership meant having the answer.
In business. On the baseball field. At home with my kids.
I thought my job was to be the one who knew. The fixer. The expert. The person who stepped in and said, “Here’s how this works.”
And sometimes? Sure. That’s needed.
But in my experience, I’ve found the real magic doesn’t come from giving people answers. It comes from asking the right questions—and trusting them to figure it out.
I saw this style in a baseball story that’s never left me.
Rick Peterson, pitching coach for the Oakland A’s, once pulled a struggling reliever aside—Chad Bradford, the submarine guy from Moneyball—and had this exchange:
Rick: “You believe in Jesus Christ, right?”Chad: “Absolutely.”Rick: “You’ve never seen him?”Chad: “No.”Rick: “But you’ve seen yourself pitch well?”Chad: “Yes.”Rick: “Then how can you believe in Jesus and not believe in yourself?”
That question hit Bradford like a fastball to the soul.
And it hit me, too. Because it’s not just clever—it’s true. Confidence is fragile. But the right question, asked at the right time, can shift everything.
He didn’t beat him over the head with a lecture. He didn’t talk at him. He asked the perfect question—one that engaged Bradford’s own belief system. And because it came from within, the confidence was real. Lasting. Accessible.
It’s so simple and yet genius.
And when you think of confidence as something like a balloon that can be popped very, very easily… it’s nice to remember you can create the balloon again, too. You just need to know how.
I’ve started using this with my team.
By now, my team knows the principles we’re building toward. They understand the why behind the work. And they’ve earned enough independence to make smart decisions, even in the messy middle.
They also know this: if something goes sideways, we’ll talk about it, learn from it, and keep moving forward. No one’s losing their job over a mistake. That kind of trust flows both ways.
And so when they come to me—usually with a frustrated customer or something we haven’t quite seen before—I don’t jump in with a fix. I ask:
“How would you handle it?”“What’s your read on the situation?”“What do you suggest we do?”
Even in those tougher moments, I make myself pause and ask. Not because I don’t have an answer—but because if I hand it over too soon, I short-circuit their growth. I take away the chance for them to stretch that problem-solving muscle.
It’s a bit like training wheels. I’m right there. I’ve got their back. But I’m not steering the bike for them.
Because when people start to feel true ownership—not just of their task list, but of the business itself—everything changes. You get better decisions. Stronger relationships. A culture where people care, not just comply.
At its core, this style says:
I trust that you already have something valuable inside you—and I’m here to help you bring it to the surface.
That applies everywhere:
- 👨👩👧👦 Parenting: Instead of “Don’t do that,” ask, “What do you think will happen if you do?”
- 🧢 Youth coaching: Instead of correcting every mistake, try: “What did you notice about that swing?”
- 💼 Leadership: Instead of “Here’s what went wrong,” ask: “What would you try next time?”
- ❤️ Relationships: Instead of giving advice right away, ask: “Do you want feedback or just someone to listen?”
This is Socratic. This is coaching. This is mentorship.
And it’s powerful—because it gives the other person dignity.
It creates space for growth instead of forcing compliance.
I don’t need to lead with answers anymore.
Those are finite—and honestly, sometimes I don’t know the answer.
But belief? Belief can be infinite.
I’d rather lead with belief.
And a really insightful question.
“Know what’s enough. Build what matters.”
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