3 weeks ago Adam sent out an article about a high school wrestling coach who contracted a debilitating immune disease that crippled him. A man whose entire being revolved around physical excellence lost it all in a matter of months. The story made me think even more deeply about some of the themes from the senior meeting last month.
If you take to heart Mike Powell’s story, and follow its lessons to their logical conclusions, you are left with two choices:
1) You realize that in devoting yourself entirely to something, you risk losing it all. So, out of fear of loss and wasted time, you don’t even try at all.
2) You go for it and push yourself past your limits, because you have the opportunity to do it now and you don’t know what the future holds.
There’s a risk that I could work my ass off for the next 3 months and get injured right before Nationals, and my extra time and efforts will feel like a waste. There’s a risk that we lose at Regionals, or fail to advance from pool play at Nationals, and my extra time and efforts will feel like a waste. But I’m still going to choose #2, because there’s a 100% chance I will never have this opportunity again.
Seniors, as we talked about, we only have 3 months left. After May, we will never play college ultimate again, never have a chance to win as Illinois, and never play with this same awesome group of guys.
Underclassmen, you don’t know what lies ahead in the years to come. Future Illinois teams may not be as good as this one. You might get injured and miss a season--you just don’t know. But you do know that right now, on March 4th, we’re a team with a ton of potential and a few months to develop it. Seize the day and treat this season like it could be your last.
At the senior meeting, Dane mentioned that he regrets not doing more in high school to be as good in basketball as he possibly could. He said that he doesn’t want to leave Illinois with that same kind of regret. Regardless of how we finish this season, I don’t want to look back and think that there was more I could’ve done to be a better team or a better individual. We play a unique sport that is still underdeveloped; it’s not like the NBA where your genes can prevent you from being the best. The only thing separating you from the elite players is devotion. If you run more wind sprints, throw for more minutes every week, analyze game film more often, etc., you will be better than the guy standing across from you on the line. We have an opportunity to become the best in the country at something--how many of your friends can say that? Even if we fall short, at least we gave ourselves a chance and had fun along the way.
Devotion to be the best in a sport puts you through the gauntlet and you come out the other side a better man, win or lose. It’s not an easy road to be the best, and that’s what makes it so valuable--knowing that 99% of others would have given up before you. You leave with no doubts about what you can accomplish.
Teddy Roosevelt said it perfectly:
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”
Choose whatever mantra you want: No Excuses, Man Up, Grow a Pair. It’s time to ramp it up.
