Willing

“What separates the ones who make it?” I am asked by a parent in a group of parents who really want to know.

“What does ‘make it’ mean?” I bounce pass back, in search of clarification. Success wears all different kinds of eclectic clothes.

“You know, not just the players that are good enough to go on to play in college, but the ones who, once they’re there, become like household names.”

I draw a deep breath and lock-in on a spot up and to the right. (This is where I keep the things I know I’ll need.) The answer to the question isn’t easy. Some sorting and some rifling will be required to locate what I know is true.

Winners’ traits are piled inside my head like the shoes on my closet floor. As I rummage through, images of standouts materialize, along with the qualities that make them who they are. Immediately, I trip over the passion of Stacey Dales. She couldn’t contain her intense desire if she tried. Stace was a terrific athlete and a fierce competitor, but more than any other thing, she loved to play. This made her different. Her passion was the fuel that fed the way she worked, the habits she developed, the decisions that she made. She rode it like a wild horse—beautifully, barely in control.

Then I stumbled over Caton Hill and thought of toughness. Caton was physically dominant—strong, immovable on the court, unwavering when experiencing pain. But her toughness went well beyond the body. She made free throws when the game was tight, corralled rebounds when we had to have the ball to win, refused to let the player she was guarding catch it where she had to catch it to be able to score.  Caton had good games, after bad ones. She made and-1’s, after turnovers. If her three-ball wasn’t falling, she’d do her scoring from the block. Toughness was tattooed across her forehead in I-do-not-panic ink. It made her better, probably, than she ever should have been.

And I discover set after set of confident eyes. Players who were not always sure of what they could do or how they might go about doing it, but players who were always pretty sure about who they were. The latter gets the former over the hump. Confident people are easy to teach. They’re typically also quick to learn because the things they’re trying to master stay the size they really are. Opportunities don’t swell to unrecognizable distortion and failures don’t become wells they can’t be rescued from. Since their footing stays fairly stable, confident players generally have a chance to set themselves apart.

But perhaps the greatest difference between the ones that make it and the ones that maybe should, but never do, is the ones who make it are willing.

They may not understand why they need to read “Self-Reliance,” but they read it if you ask them to. They may not want to go on a two-hour bus ride to watch a soccer game then team build with them after, but they go along. They accept the corny slogans, they take notes when someone’s talking, they lose their minds when a teammate tries to take a charge. 

They’re up for it. 

Eager to be pushed…challenged…taught, they give you their guts and let you pull. They aren’t held back by the fear of feeling awkward, they don’t mind looking silly. 

Whatever it is, the ones who “make it” are willing to give it a shot.

P.S. A Shootin’ Lesson