A scientist wanted more eggs.
In 1982, William Muir, an evolutionary biologist at Purdue, set up an experiment. He wanted to know how to make hens more productive.
Group one was an average flock. Nine hens. He left it alone for six generations.
Group two was the all-star team. From each group, he picked only the most productive hen and bred from her. Generation after generation. The superchickens.
By 1996, the results were in. The average flock was healthy, fully feathered, and laying far more eggs than when it started.
The superchickens? Three were left. They had pecked the rest to death. The survivors were picked bare of feathers, stressed out, and laying poorly.
Here’s what Muir figured out. The superchickens weren’t putting up big numbers because they were better layers. They were putting up big numbers by taking the resources and suppressing every hen around them. Put enough of them together and it turned lethal.
The superchickens got their production by suppressing everyone around them.
Sound familiar?
A lot of teams run on the superchicken model. Find the stars. Give them everything. Hope it works.
Then the star rolls an ankle. Or the success goes to his head. Or he has a bad day in a playoff game. Now what? Nobody else has been asked to do anything all season.
What makes a group good
Research out of MIT looked at why some groups outperform others. The best groups did not have the highest IQs. They had three things:
- They read each other well. High social awareness.
- Everyone got roughly equal airtime. Nobody dominated the room.
- They had social capital. Trust and helpfulness built up between people over time.
Talent is what you bring. Connection is what multiplies it.
One star, five spectators
Picture the superchicken lacrosse team. One elite attackman. Every possession runs through him. He dodges, he shoots, he scores.
Now watch the other five on offense. They stop cutting. They stand and watch. Why move if the ball isn’t coming?
The star puts up numbers. The team gets easier to guard. Double him, force him into bad decisions, and watch him start blaming everybody else.
It shows up off the field too. Younger guys stop speaking up. Mistakes get hidden. The best player’s mood becomes the team’s mood.
Now picture the average-flock team. Fewer highlights. More ball movement. Six guys who are a threat. Guys who back each other up when someone gets beat. That team is harder to scout, harder to break, and it gets better as the season goes on.
Basketball has a name for this. The Princeton offense, built by Hall of Fame coach Pete Carril, runs on constant motion, strict spacing, smart passing, and reading the defense. No isolation plays. No one guy.
The scoreboard agrees
In 2004, the U.S. Olympic men’s basketball team was loaded with NBA talent. They lost their opener to Puerto Rico and went home with bronze.
For 2008, USA Basketball rebuilt around commitment, roles, and buy-in under Coach K. Same country. Same talent pool. Different culture. They won gold.
They didn’t get more talented in four years. They got more connected.
Or look at Michael Jordan. Detroit built the “Jordan Rules” to throw bodies at him every time he touched the ball. For years, it worked. The Bulls kept losing to the Pistons.
The breakthrough came when Jordan trusted the triangle and his teammates. Watch the biggest shots of that run. In 1993, John Paxson hit the title-winning three after the ball went from Jordan to Pippen to Horace Grant to Paxson. In 1997, Jordan drew the double team and kicked it to Steve Kerr for the title-winning jumper.
The greatest player ever won when he stopped being the only option.
This is not anti-star
You want great players. Every coach does. The question is whether your great players make everyone around them better, or peck them into silence.
The danger is a roster full of guys who are comfortable in a small role. Guys who don’t believe they can do more when the superchicken is having a bad day.
What captains can do
Captains set the pecking order more than coaches do. They decide who gets talked to, who gets ignored, and who gets the benefit of the doubt. Three moves:
- Spread the airtime. In huddles and film, pull in the quiet guys by name. “Jake, what did you see?”
- Reward the assist. Make a big deal of the extra pass, the backup slide, the ride. Not just the goal. Take a page from John Wooden: when you score, acknowledge the teammate who set you up.
- Check your star. If you’re the best player, ask yourself: are my teammates better because I’m here, or quieter?
In my doctoral work, collaborative leadership comes down to voice, transparency, self-efficacy, and candor. Superchicken teams kill voice first.
Your challenge this week
Captains: Find one teammate who has gone quiet. Get their voice back in the room.
Coaches: Look at what you praise. If it’s all goals and stats, you’re breeding superchickens.
Want to go deeper?
If you’re a high school or college strength or sport coach who’s done running discipline as punishment, my new course is for you. Funishment: Reframing Discipline in Athletics is about building discipline in athletes instead of taking something from them.