Thin Lines
My friend’s son played well at quarterback in his first collegiate game. The offense he led moved the ball up and down the field as he guided his team to a twenty-point victory. He barked orders. He scrambled. He threw a spiral to his wide-out on an old school post-and-go.
When the game ended, my friend couldn’t wait to greet his boy with a celebratory hug.
“Great game, buddy!” he gushed as he hugged his sweaty son with eye-black stains across his cheeks. Then with emphasis he added, “How fun was that?!”
The youngster bowed his head avoiding eye contact, and muttered, “Thanks. I can’t believe I fumbled in the middle of that long drive.”
“Wait, what? Son, you know there’s no such thing as a perfect game.”
“Well, that was far from perfect, dad.”
The next fifteen minutes were spent building a verbal spread sheet of good and bad. And though the list had an obvious lean, all the young athlete could think about was the one time he dropped the ball.
Two roads diverged before him. The quarterback had a choice to make. Would he look back to gain instructional insight or would he decide to dwell? The line between “learning from” and “living in” is razor thin.
Most things are more alike than they are different. Genius and madness, love and hate, confidence and arrogance---they all live tethered on each side of a breath. The line in the middle can be hard to see. It’s hard to feel. It’s sometimes almost impossible to find. And, yet, knowing where it is changes everything.
I’ve thought a lot about my friend’s son and the crossroad where he’s standing. How hard it is for athletes to mine past performances for clues to better playing and yet not get caught in the quicksand of all that has gone wrong. It takes a disciplined, tilted head. Those able to do it, though, have much to show for their toil.
This past July on the storied grass at Wimbledon, six-time grand slam winner, Iga Swiatek, rolled over American up-and-comer, Amanda Anisimova, to earn the coveted crown. Swiatek defeated Anisimova 6-0, 6-0 in the worst Wimbledon final loss since 1911. The shellacking in front of millions took less than an hour and was painfully brutal to watch. Quietly and aloud, the world wondered if the American could or would recover.
Would she be able to rebound? Could she look back and learn?
Fifty-three days later at the US Open in New York City, everybody got their answer. In the quarterfinals on the court at Arthur Ashe, Anisimova and Swiatek faced-off once again. This time, the tables turned. Anisimova won in straight sets 6-4, 6-3 to advance to the semi-finals where the twenty-four-year-old defeated Naomi Osaka to earn an appearance in the finals of consecutive Grand Slams.
Though Anisimova ultimately succumbed to Sabalenka in the Open Final, she cleanly cleared the hurdle she wiped-out on a month ago.
The rearview mirror can be a tool for gaining information. If the quarterback, like the tennis star, is able to look back but not set up shop in past mistakes, the by-product is improvement—and the dodging of unnecessary angst. But only a sliver separates a downward spiral from a rocket ship ride.
Most of us hopscotch our way. Thin lines, though tough to locate, can be tougher still to toe.