You Can’t Take Credit for That

Morgan Freeman was talking about actors. The line lands harder on managers.

“You can’t take credit for talent; you can only take credit for using it.” – Morgan Freeman

As a manager, it’s tempting to take credit for discovering and unlocking someone’s potential. It’s easier to believe that through your hard coaching, mentoring, and guiding hands, you somehow produced this talent standing before you. But that’s not really how it works. The talent was already there. The skills, ability, and potential belonged to the individual long before you stepped in. At best, a manager can recognize it, create the right environment, challenge them, and help maximize what they already possess. You didn’t create that talent. You simply had the privilege of helping it reach its full potential. The one thing in that you can honestly claim is what you pointed it at.

No paper trail necessary

If we truly played a role in developing someone’s talent, there should be a paper trail; not because development is about paperwork, but because real investment leaves evidence. A growth plan with specific outcomes. A regular mentoring cadence. Stretch assignments with clear intent. A promotion case with your fingerprints on it. Not documentation created after something goes wrong, but evidence of investment before the outcome was known. Sound familiar?

Unfortunately, development goals are too often introduced not in the context of developing talent, but when there is already a concern about someone’s performance or capability. Let’s be honest about what happen in practice: a development plan becomes less about investing in the individual and more about documenting a case for separation. The plan becomes a paper trail created after the fact; not evidence of an investment that was made before the outcome was known. And that’s the irony: great talent rarely leaves a paper trail. It leaves evidence of success. The evidence is in what you entrusted them to do, the problems you gave them to solve, the outcomes they delivered, and the impact they created.

The only documentation of “development” appears after someone is already struggling:

Good talent rarely makes noise. They solve problems before they become problems, navigate complexity without creating drama, and keep things moving. The burnout never happens. Risks are mitigated before it becomes an issue. When everything runs smoothly, their contribution can become almost invisible. We live in a world where the squeaky wheel gets the oil. The problem is that there is rarely recognition for the wheel that never squeaked in the first place. The best talent often gets noticed the least; not because they contribute less, but because they prevent the problems. It’s easy for managers to take credit for developing this talent when all we do is point them to more problems to resolve.

Three ways to get it wrong

I’ve seen all three of these play out throughout my career. The common thread was a misunderstanding of what management is actually supposed to do. You don’t create the talent. You don’t own the success. You don’t need to be the hero in the story. And you don’t double down on a bad bet just to prove you were right. Your job is a lot simpler and harder: recognize the talent, maximize it, give it room to be seen, and know when to get out of the way. Had they understood that, things could have turned out very differently for the people they managed, their teams, and ultimately themselves.

The one who’s threatened by it. It’s more common than we like to admit for managers to feel uneasy when someone on their team has the potential to outgrow or even replace them. Instead of giving that talent greater visibility and opportunity, they may unconsciously steer them toward the important but invisible work: the problems that need solving, but rarely come with recognition. The irony is that the very talent capable of becoming the next leader can end up being kept out of sight by the person who should be helping them get there.

The one who retroactively narrates the story. They never really took the time to evaluate the talent. The opportunity landed in that person’s lap almost by accident; perhaps because there was no one else available, perhaps simply because someone had to take it on. And sometimes, the dynamic is less innocent. The assignment may have been given with the expectation that the person would struggle and fail. But when the project succeeds, the story changes. Suddenly, the assignment was intentional. The manager “saw the potential,” “created the opportunity,” and “knew all along” that the individual could deliver. A retrospective narrative is constructed that conveniently positions the manager at the center of the success. But the success wasn’t about developing the talent. It was about managing the manager’s own narrative. The talent delivered. The manager simply rewrote the story to make themselves part of the reason why.

The one who won’t let go of the bet. This may be the most dangerous manager of the three: not because they don’t believe in their people, but because they believe in them too much. They ignore the talent because they didn’t play a role in building them. Then, more precisely, they become invested in being right that they fail to see the fault in their bet. They backed someone publicly. Made the case for their potential. Put their own judgment behind the decision. Then the work starts going sideways. Not dramatically. Just persistently. By the fourth month, anyone paying attention can see that something isn’t working. But the leader doesn’t reassess. They double down; sunk cost fallacy playing itself out. More coaching. More support. A restructured team. Another opportunity. Another explanation for why the results haven’t materialized yet. The bet’s failure is a reflection on them. And it all sounds like good leadership. Because sometimes it is. But there is no such thing as developing talent. Persistence becomes stubbornness, coaching becomes rationalization, and believing in someone becomes an unwillingness to admit you were wrong. The irony is that the leader may genuinely believe they are protecting the individual. In reality, es.

What good looks like

The leaders I learned the most from did something that sounds almost unremarkable when you put it into a sentence, but is incredibly difficult in practice.

matched people to problems

It wasn’t necessarily that they “developed the talent.” Some barely did. What they did was recognize, fairly early, what someone was actually good at. Then they found or created the kind of work where those strengths could matter. They didn’t need to be the person who made the talent successful. Their ego didn’t get in the way. I’ve been fortunate to work for many great leaders throughout my career, but I’ve had my share of bad ones too. But I learned the most from the great ones; not because they taught me everything, but because they showed me what leadership looks like when the manager doesn’t need to be the center of the story. And I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve had my fair share of great talent simply fall into my lap. I may have made the same mistakes had I not had the good fortune to see how good leaders operate. I’ve also had my faire share of overlooked talent. Some were people who had been overlooked by previous managers; sometimes because their talent made those managers feel threatened. Others had been stuck with leaders who kept betting on the wrong horse and, in the process, neglected the people who were actually capable of delivering. The talent was never the problem. Someone just finally gave them the opportunity to matter.

You didn’t create that, stop taking the credit

If you manage people, ask yourself honestly: How much of that talent did you actually create? Isn’t it interesting that the people with the most talent are often the easiest to manage? There’s a reason for that and it has very little to do with the manager. The capability was already there. Your job is to recognize it, put the right person in the right role, give them the space to do what they do well, and get out of the way when you need to.

Personally, I’d rather be recognized for the outcomes my team delivered throughout the year because I put the right people with the right skills in the right roles than boast about how I “grew” my leaders to perform. Because if I did my job well, maybe I didn’t grow the talent at all. I simply gave great talent the opportunity to show what it could already do.