Wes played exceptionally well at Heritage Hall H.S. in Oklahoma City and like most talented high school players he had dreams of playing in college. Unfortunately for Wes no college or university seemed to be very interested. As a matter of fact, his high school coach tried desperately to get someone, anyone, interested in his star player. He sent out over a hundred faxes to college coaches around the country hoping to find just one who might have a roster spot for Wes. Not one bite! In the eleventh hour, the coach from Texas Tech called to say that one of his recruits had backed out and he had one scholarship available if Wes was still interested. Wes jumped at the opportunity. Although he went on to have a prolific career at Texas Tech which included an NCAA record for punt return touchdowns (8) and the Mosi Tatupu Award in his senior year (an award given to the best special teams player in the country), he was not invited to the 2004 NFL combine. As a 5’9” wide receiver who ran a slow 4.55 second 40-yard dash, Wes was not considered NFL material by the scouts. Somehow, he managed to sign as a free agent with the San Diego Chargers and was invited to training camp, but they released him before the season began.
I have seen this happen with a number of players that I worked with in the past. A player is labeled before he even shows up at camp and it is almost impossible to get a team to change its perspective about him no matter how well he performs. I have seen a rookie free agent out-perform veterans and high draft picks and still not make the team. Typically the player is not given the chance to overcome the label and prove that he should be playing. When he is released by the team, coaches say in a self fulfilling prophecy, “See, I knew he was too small, too slow, too…” Later, Charger’s Coach Marty Schottenheimer would say of releasing Welker, “It was the biggest mistake we ever made!”
Despite all the setbacks, Wes’s perseverance and hard work eventually paid off. He signed with the Miami Dolphins and when finally given the chance, he played very well. Fortunately for him he had particularly good games against their conference rival the New England Patriots. Whether they saw his true talent or just wanted to remove a player who gave them fits every time they met, the Patriots traded two draft picks to the Dolphins for Wes in 2007. From there his career skyrocketed. Given the opportunity to show what he was capable of doing, Wes went on to set many Patriot’s Franchise records and seven NFL all-time records as well as accumulating thousands of all-purpose yards and more. This is from the guy who was too small and too slow to play in college! What makes this all the more remarkable is that NFL teams have spent millions of dollars developing a sophisticated system of scouting and talent assessment. They are the experts. If they don’t see it, you don’t have it. Right? Wrong. Bob, Daniel, and Wes did not allow themselves to be limited by the rash judgments of others. They encountered many people who couldn’t read or see the truth but they chose to pursue their dreams undaunted by the swirling emotions and false assumptions that surrounded them.
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If you think accurately judging physical and mental abilities can be a challenge then accurately judging someone’s motivation, intent and culpability is like scaling Mt. Everest without oxygen, a rare accomplishment. This is why we are admonished with the words, “Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own eye?” or “Judge not lest ye be judged.” The danger in judging someone without all of the facts is that we may be wrong. It’s called guilty until proven innocent. On the flip side, it is likely that you have been falsely accused of doing something that you did not do. It is not only an unpleasant experience but you are forced to spend an inordinate amount of time and energy trying to prove your innocence. You might be thinking, “I would never falsely accuse anyone.” But if you lack awareness of what is true, and the vigilance to continually seek it in your everyday life, you might be surprised to find out just how often you are doing it.
Whether you are the accused or the accuser, it is so easy to slip into gossip and character assassination especially with the proliferation of “reality” shows which entice us to enter the lives of others and judge them, often unmercifully. The eighth commandment enjoins us to not bear false witness against our neighbor. God is the source of all truth; his word is truth, his law is truth, and we’re called to be witnesses to the truth and we have an obligation not only to speak the truth but also to seek it. The eighth commandment also calls us to discretion, in order to avoid the offenses of rash judgment, detraction and calumny. Although everyone has their fair share of faults and failings, there is no reason to spend an hour on the phone or in the coffee shop talking about them.
There is a wonderful story about the sixteenth century Italian confessor St. Philip Neri who was known for his creative penances. One day a woman confessed to St. Philip Neri that she had been gossiping to others about one of her neighbors. St. Philip told her to go into town and buy a chicken. On her way home he asked her to pluck the chicken as she walked along the road and then bring it to him. She did as he requested and soon arrived with the plucked chicken. St. Philip said to her, “Now go back and pick up all the feathers.” Aghast, she responded, “Oh, but Father that is impossible. The wind has scattered them in every direction and there is no way for me to get them all back.” “Quite true,” said St. Philip, “Just like the feathers, your words of gossip have been spread far and wide and there is no way for you to take them all back. In the future think carefully before you speak about any person.”
However, on occasion you may be required to talk about the faults of others for appropriate reasons. But it can be a challenge to do it without defaming them or harming their reputations. Often in the course of my work, I am called upon to discuss the words and actions of many individuals. Looking for advice, I once asked a priest that I knew, “Father, when discussing issues about other people, is there some way I can be sure that I am not inappropriately speaking about them?” He gave me some good advice on the matter. He told me about the “three gates of the mouth.” The first gate is to ask yourself, “Is it true?” The second, “Does it need to be said?” And the final gate is, “Will it make a difference?” If you can answer yes to all three of those questions then it is probably okay to talk about it. Taking the necessary time to be sure of all the facts, guarding your thoughts, and listening and thinking before you speak will help you to remain at peace and keep your emotions properly ordered.
In abstaining from rash judgments you will avoid responding with the inappropriate emotions, actions and words, all of which usually lead to poor performance. This is why the virtue of meekness is so important. It prevents the unsportsmanlike penalty that can cost you the game. Meekness? When you hear that word used to describe an athlete, somehow it just doesn’t sound right, like the individual is frail in some way or lacking backbone. So what is meekness and what does it really mean? It is the virtue of keeping anger under control. However, when we think of meekness, we sometimes tend to think of weakness. In reality, the two have nothing in common with each other. Meekness is the ability to be in control of our emotions. Therefore, a meek person is better able to use all their skills, talents, and abilities for the task at hand. Anger is a vice and the opposite of meekness. It is this inordinate anger that leads to the fifteen yard penalty, the red card, five minutes in the penalty box, and the technical foul.
Vulgar and profane language which is often associated with a lack of meekness, has always existed and probably always will, but the big difference is that in the past it was considered unacceptable. Part of the problem today is that few people realize that there is a problem. John Wooden, one of the greatest collegiate basketball coaches of all time, is a great example and role model for anyone who appreciates sport played well and for the right reasons. He was a remarkable basketball player and coach and is one of only a small handful of people to get inducted into the Naismith Hall of Fame as both an athlete and a coach. He believed the essence of coaching was in being a teacher and mentor to his players. Coach Wooden saw sport as a tool for
life; a means for developing virtue, and he exemplified that in the way he coached and mentored his athletes. Moreover, he was both a virtuous coach and, at the same time, one of the most successful coaches ever, proving that the two are not mutually exclusive. One of Coach Wooden’s teams had a record seventy-four consecutive regular season victories on the way to an eighty-eight game winning streak. He had four undefeated seasons and he won seven consecutive NCAA championships—the most in NCAA history.
A lot of people seem to think that in high level sport, vulgar language should just be expected and accepted. However, John Wooden believed that trash talking was unacceptable and had no tolerance for it on his teams. In his book, Coach Wooden: One on One, he talks about how he never tolerated bad language. He said, “Sometimes when I overheard one of my players using profanity during practice, I would dismiss him for the day. My boys all knew that practice was where they earned their playing time, so I used the sessions themselves as a disciplinarian measure. If anyone cursed during a game, I would sit them on the bench for a while. It didn’t take long for the players to clean up their language. There was no trash talk on my team.” This story not only gives us some insight into Coach Wooden and his practical application of meekness but, more importantly, it clearly demonstrates that vice, specifically profanity, doesn’t have to be part of the game in order to win.
As an athlete competing for the University of Maryland, I learned how to deal with inordinate anger in a most unusual way. I had just begun to jump high enough to compete on a national level and I was excited about the possibility of finally being able to jump in Madison Square Garden, the Spectrum, and other well known venues. The next meet on the circuit that I might have had a chance of competing in was the Philadelphia Track Classic held in the Spectrum. Usually only a very small number of jumpers, maybe eight to ten, from around the country received invitations to compete. Although I had jumped high enough to be included, I was unknown to them. My coach, however, was very well known and respected. He knew all of the meet directors well and he could probably get me into that meet. So I asked him if he could call the director of the Philadelphia Track Classic and ask if he would be willing to include me in the meet. Without any warning he started yelling at me and then stormed off! I was bewildered. Then, for a week or two afterwards, he wouldn’t talk to me! Finally, one day, as he was walking by me, he said begrudgingly, “You’re in the meet.” I stood there in silence for a moment with a surprised look on my face and then managed to shout, “Thanks!” He still wasn’t talking to me and this didn’t make me feel too good but I tried not to dwell on it too much and moved on. Looking back on it now, he may have been just trying to keep me humble or teach me that there are no free lunches in life. Whatever the reason, I was in the meet!
The day finally arrived, it was my first really big indoor meet, and it required some patience since it was also the first time I ever jumped in the evening. Most high jump events take place in the morning or early afternoon. The meet was everything I had hoped for and more. The high jump had started about nine o’clock and by the time there were two jumpers remaining in the competition the rest of the meet had concluded. The amazing thing about it was that approximately 10,000 people stayed to watch as Dwight Stones, a two-time Olympic medalist and former world record holder, and I jumped off against each other in a great competition. I ended up in second place, but it was a great show, everybody loved it and I jumped well. The first person to congratulate me? My coach. He runs out from the stands and puts his arm around my shoulder and he says, “Alright! We’re going places this year.” I immediately thought, “Okay, I get it. If you are criticized don’t take it personally. Consider if it is deserved, if so, change, if not, recognize it as a problem of the one who criticized. The same holds true for praise: don’t take it personally. If it is deserved, accept it with magnanimity and give credit to the source of all goodness, if it is not, gently educate the person as to why it is not due you.” I learned that my beliefs had a lot to do with how I felt about things. If my coach was angry, I tended to believe there must have been something wrong with me. I let it bother me because I was too focused on me! I should have been looking outwards, trying to understand my coach and why he had been so harsh. I also learned that people, especially those who cared about me, were often reacting to the words I used and the way I acted rather than responding to me independent of them.
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You will begin to gain control over your emotions when you clearly understand what you believe about yourself and others. Have you ever heard someone say, “Believe in yourself, if you believe you can do something, you will do it”? It sounds easy enough, “Yeah. If I think the ball’s going to go in the basket then it will!” Well… not really. Your words, what you claim to believe, may initially make you feel better because as you’ve read, your beliefs determine your emotions. If you believe that the ball is going to go in the basket then you feel good. But what if it doesn’t?
I’ve worked with athletes, notably tennis players, who had been instructed, “Act like you’re a great player,” almost as if they could build confidence without doing anything to deserve it. Picture yourself standing in back of the service line on a tennis court and a ball is coming towards you at over one-hundred and ten miles per hour. Either you have the ability to return that serve or you don’t. You can stand there all day long telling yourself about what a great tennis player you are and how confident you feel—until the first serve is either ricocheting off your chest or rolling around on the ground behind you. As soon as that happens you have the proof, “I could barely see the ball, never mind return it!” You instantly have a new belief, “I can’t return the serve.” You are also no longer feeling confident. Isn’t reality is a wonderful teacher? Now imagine that you are able to return every serve and place it accurately in your opponent’s court. New belief, “I can put the ball anywhere I choose.” Guess what you have now? Confidence. You don’t have confidence because you say you have it, you have confidence because you can do it!
In stark contrast to the “tell yourself you’re great and you will be” theory, there is the Dave Hemery practice of “doing what it takes to get the results you want.” When I went to Boston University to do my graduate work and to coach, I was blessed to work with Dave, the head track and field coach, former world record holder, and three time Olympic medalist, including the 400m hurdles gold in the 1968 Mexico Olympic Games. Other members of the staff included former world record holder and Olympic medalist in the high jump, John Thomas, as well as Joan Benoit who went on to break the woman’s marathon world record and win gold in the 1984 Olympic Games. Dave had a unique form of training which had helped him become the best in the world. I soon found out that a root canal would seem like a recreation in comparison. It is only with the passage of time, almost thirty years, that I can now thank him for sharing it with me!
Although I was one of the coaches, I was still training for the 1984 Olympic Games so I did a lot of my workouts with the team. On Saturday mornings, the track team would travel to Scituate, Massachusetts. In Scituate, there are sand dunes… big, big sand dunes. My first encounter with them is indelibly etched on my mind; we got out of the vans, stretched for five or ten minutes, and began the warm-up run through the narrow, soft, sand trails. We did about a mile in that thick sand at a pace that pressed the limits of my endurance. After all I was a high jumper! When we finally finished the warm-up, I thought, “Man, was that hard. I’m dead. I’m already exhausted and apparently we haven’t even started the workout yet.”
As I stepped off the trail into the clearing, I froze in my tracks. Towering above me was this incredible sand dune, four or five stories high and almost vertical! It made me regret that the warm-up run had ever come to an end. Dave very matter-of-factly told us that we would be doing two sets of eight reps on the big dune and that we would have to sprint each one as fast as possible. I looked at the mountainous heap of sand, took a deep breath, and thought, “Ohhh
myyy goshhh.” I remember attacking that dune for the first time. I was sprinting as fast as I could and I barely went anywhere; it felt like trying to run up a high speed treadmill, the belt moved but I didn’t! With every step, the sand offered no resistance and just slid back down under my feet. Even though it was incredibly high and steep it didn’t seem that far to run, but it still took me a good thirty seconds to get all the way up. By the time I reached the top I could barely stand, never mind walk. The lactic acid that built up in my legs deserved its name. It felt like the acid was burning through every muscle in my lower body. Coming down was in some ways harder than going up! My legs were so burned-out that I could not bend my knees to go down without collapsing. Because the down side was as steep as the up side, I figured a way to slide down by locking out a leg and letting gravity and my weight drop me down three or four feet with every step.
I managed to make it to the bottom, but I was immediately struck by the realization that I had fifteen more to go! There was something to be immediately grateful for, however: I was one of the few who did not throw-up. After running the sixteenth dune I thought, “Thank God! I made it! It’s over!” This proved to be a false belief because shortly after finishing the final rep on the big dune, Dave informed us that we would warm-down on the small dune. It might have been lower, but it was twice as long! By the end of the session, I had used every ounce of energy in my body and I could barely make it back to the van. I hadn’t understood why everyone who had run these dunes on previous occasions was so quiet on the ride down. I had written it off to the early morning start, but now I knew better. Saturday mornings would never be the same but I wouldn’t have traded them for the world.
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