Standards before strategy - Why the NFL still shapes how I think about business

Well, the “American” Super Bowl for 2026 has just wrapped up. That means we have a new “World Champion”......

Most Australians could not give one jot about the NFL. But I do. I love it.

As a teenager in the late 1980s, I watched the sport for the first time. The San Francisco 49ers played the underdog Cincinnati Bengals in that years Superbowl. The 49ers were by this point, the dominant team of that era under their legendary coach Bill Walsh.

So of course, me being me; I chose to follow the underdog.

And I am still a fan.

35 years later, my Bengals are yet to reach the pinnacle, despite coming so very close a few times. I do remain hopeful. Loyalty for me tends to stick. Maybe instead I should send them this blog for guidance 😊 

At first, the NFL was bewildering; especially to a kid. 53 players on a roster. Highly specialised roles. Enormous linemen whose work looked strange and simple, was largely invisible but turned out critical. The celebrated one; the Quarterback (the one throwing the ball) could only really function if everyone else executed precisely. Once I eventually understood the structure, it stopped being a spectacle and became choreography.

Those 300-pound linemen had to do their job of blocking their big opponent properly so the faster players could run their routes and the quarterback could make better decisions with a little more time. Each role mattered. None worked in isolation. 53 individuals, each with ego, ambition and personal standards, functioning as a system.

However, learning much later about Bill Walsh’s approach was impactful for me in the course of my life.

Walsh was not simply an NFL coach. He is widely regarded as one of the most influential figures in the history of the game. He became a winner. A 3-time Super Bowl champion. The architect of the West Coast offense. A leader whose coaching tree produced multiple Super Bowl-winning coaches after him. His influence extended well beyond the 49ers franchise and reshaped how professional football was played and managed.

But what distinguished him was not just innovation. It was discipline.

He inherited a struggling franchise and rebuilt it methodically to a powerhouse. He did not begin with “win the Super Bowl.”

He began with what he called a Standard of Performance. How meetings were run. How preparation occurred. How communication was handled. How details were executed. Behaviour under pressure.

The standard preceded the dominance.

Years later, I saw a version of that in a very different environment. I used to frequent the same café as the Chief Executive Officer of an organisation I worked in. It was their ritual. Early coffee. Preparation. Reviewing before the day unfolded. I would always acknowledge them politely. They were the CEO after all. They carry themselves much differently. That is part of the role isn’t it.

Anyway, one morning they looked a little tired. To me, for once they didn’t look “on”. And when I say a little tired; no not tired; absolutely shattered as ……. but nevertheless, immaculately dressed. So, in passing and saying hello I remarked that they looked a little tired (not that they weren’t “on") 🙂 and that they could use a proper sleep. Turns out they had flown in late the night before and had barely slept.

I then suggested they should probably head home right now and rest. CEOs need sleep too.

There reply stayed with me. I will reset when I can Nathan, but seldom do I let my standards slip.

Not never. Seldom.

I did not take it as grandstanding or bravado. It was simply a principle. Baseline behaviour under pressure.

What struck me was not the ritual itself. It was the consistency. Fatigue did not cancel the standard. It may have altered the day, but it did not erase the discipline that shaped it.

That insight stayed with me long after the coffee was finished.

Only later did I realise why it resonated so strongly. It was the same pattern I learnt about Bill and the 49ers. The standard comes first. The results follow.

Let’s not forget either; an NFL franchise is not simply a sporting team. It is a billion-dollar enterprise. Brand, commercial operations, player personnel, stadium facilities, sponsorship, media rights, analytics. Complexity layered around performance.

It’s just another business – a bloody big one but so what.

Whether there are 53 players, 10 employees or thousands of workers, the pattern repeats. Specialisation increases. Roles differentiate. Some individuals carry decisive influence. Others operate within narrower scope. Yet each role has choreography within the broader system.

Some may not see the strategy. Some may not care for it. Some may not appreciate their influence. It still matters.

In my experience over 25 years, strategy is often written and never tested. Ambition is articulated. Resources are rallied. Slides are produced. Momentum builds.

But rarely is the strategy examined through the lens of current behaviour.

Can these choices actually be achieved given how the organisation currently operates?

Do individual standards align with the direction being set?

Will behaviour under pressure support or undermine the plan?

Is the operating environment disciplined enough to carry the ambition?

Too often, this layer is assumed.

Strategy becomes declarative rather than operational.

This is where I focus my work at SynergyWorks.

I test strategy against operating standards. Not to slow ambition. Not to dilute direction. But to improve the probability of implementation.

Strategy sets direction.

Standards determine whether that direction survives contact with reality.

Psychology determines whether standards are upheld and refined.

Standards are not static. Walsh adjusted schemes. Personnel changed. Competition intensified. The baseline behaviour remained disciplined, while the application evolved.

That balance is maturity.

Strategy without standards becomes theatre. Standards without adjustment become constraint.

Whether it is 53 players competing at the highest level, an NRL side of 17, a soccer team of 11, a small firm of five or a global enterprise of thousands, execution rests on choreography.

If the choreography fragments, the strategy fragments.

Some might argue that focusing this heavily on operating standards is not “pure strategy.” I would argue the opposite.

If strategy cannot survive contact with behaviour, it was never strategy to begin with.

The discipline of testing direction against operating reality is not separate from strategy. It is what gives strategy its best chance of success.

And in my experience, that distinction matters more than the document or intent ever will.