042: The Wrong Hat

He was magic. ✨

Kids lit up when he walked in. Parents requested him by name. He could 
read a room of eight-year-olds in about four seconds, find the one who was struggling, and pull them right back in. Completely intuitive. Zero wasted energy on the floor.

So I promoted him.

And here’s what I didn’t understand at the time: I had just taken my best entertainer and asked him to become something else entirely.

That’s the Peter Principle. Dr. Laurence Peter named it in 1969: in a hierarchy, every employee tends to rise to their level of incompetence. We promote people based on how well they do the job they’re in, not based on whether they have what it takes for the job they’re going to.

In youth sports, this hits different. Because what makes a great coach is almost the opposite of what makes a great manager.

A great coach is an entertainer. That’s not a knock, it’s a craft. They perform. They bring the energy and the room follows. They’re reactive and instinctive, reading the moment and adjusting on the fly. The feedback is immediate: kids laugh, engage, light up. And when there’s conflict? It’s usually a six-year-old who doesn’t want to share the beam. Easy to redirect. Easy to win.

A great manager works completely differently. They plan before the problem exists. They build trust through consistency, not charisma. Their feedback loop is six months long, culture doesn’t show up in a single class, it shows up in how a team behaves when no one’s watching. And when there’s conflict? It’s with an adult. Someone they like. Someone who’s their peer one minute and their direct report the next. And they have to be willing to be the person who says “that’s not okay,” without the audience, without the applause, without anyone else in the room to redirect.

The entertainer almost never has to be the bad guy.

The manager almost always does.

Here’s the thing: this doesn’t mean the promotion is always wrong.

A lot of great program directors are on the floor alongside their team. That’s actually a feature, it keeps them connected to what’s really happening in classes, and it gives them credibility with coaches that a purely administrative director never earns. Being a player-coach can work. I’ve seen it work beautifully.

But only when they know which hat they’re wearing.

When you’re on the floor coaching, you’re a coach. You’re one of the team. Your coaches see you that way, your kids see you that way, and that’s fine, that’s the job. But when you step off the floor for a team meeting, or when a coach isn’t performing, or when a parent complaint lands in your lap? The hat changes. You’re the director now. And if you can’t make that shift, if you stay in entertainer mode when the situation needs a manager, accountability never actually happens.

The failure isn’t the promotion. The failure is handing someone a new title with zero development around the new role. No clarity on what the job actually requires. No training on how to hold a hard conversation. No one helping them practice the skills that don’t come naturally to someone who’s spent years being everyone’s favorite coach.

Before you promote, here’s what changes the outcome:Be explicit about the hat. Define what it looks like to be on the floor as a coach versus leading as a director. Not just conceptually, concretely. When is each role appropriate? What does switching look like in practice?

Develop before you promote. Give them small management reps first. Let them handle a scheduling conflict, lead a team meeting or training, or navigate a coach who’s under-performing. See how they respond to the parts of management that have nothing to do with being the best in the room.

And ask the right question. Not “do they want to advance?” Ask: "can they find satisfaction in someone else getting better?" The entertainer’s reward is the room. The manager’s reward is the team. Those are not the same thing.

The promotion can be exactly right. But only if you set it up that way.

In your corner always!

– Casey

PS..This is one of the hardest things to get right, and it’s why NinjaZone thinks about program leadership as more than a coaching credential.

The structure matters. The development matters. And so does everything that holds a program together when roles shift, people grow, or a key leader moves on. NinjaZone is built to support the whole thing, not just what happens on the floor, but the clarity, the communication, and the systems that let great people grow into the right roles without your gym missing a beat.