SEE YOU AT THE TOP

by Zig Ziglar

  According to “The Executive Speechwriter Newsletter,” desire kept young Clement Stone on Chicago’s street corners selling newspapers. Desire later made him one of the wealthiest people in the country as principal owner of Combined Insurance Corporation of America.

  Desire made Jim Marshall one of the most indestructible players in professional football. Marshall started 282 consecutive games and played defensive end until he was 42 years old. Teammate Fran Tarkenton once described Marshall as “the most amazing athlete to play in any sport.”

  Desire energized John Havlicek to earn the nickname “Mr. Perpetual Motion.” As a Boston Celtic, Havlicek gave 200 percent every game for sixteen straight seasons. Hustle, leadership, and guts made Havlicek a player by which others were measured.

  People with desire work harder, are obsessed with their goals, and are driven by an intense thirst to be better.

  Desire is the extra. It’s that one little extra degree of difference that turns water into steam. At 211° water is hot enough for you to use to shave or to make a cup of coffee. Add one more degree and that hot water changes into steam that will power a locomotive around this country or propel a steamship around the world. That little extra is what will send you to the top of the ladder. It has done it for others. Ty Cobb, for example, had an enormous amount of desire. Grantland Rice relates this desire to us as he says, “I recall a day when Cobb played with each leg a mass of raw flesh. He had a temperature of 103° and the doctors ordered him to bed for several days. His team was playing that day, however, and as far as Ty Cobb was concerned, that meant he would play. He did play and got three hits, stole three bases, won the game—and then collapsed on the bench.”

  When I think of desire, I think of another baseball player. For my money, Pete Gray is an immortal who belongs in baseball’s Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York. As a young man, his overwhelming desire was to play major league baseball. “I’m going to make it all the way to the top,” he repeated over and over again. His crowning ambition was to play a game in Yankee Stadium. In 1945, Gray made it to the major leagues with the St. Louis Browns. He played only one year in the majors, was not a regular, and never hit a single home run. Nevertheless, I insist that Pete Gray is an immortal who belongs in the Hall of Fame. I say this because he made it to the top despite the fact he had no right arm.

  He didn’t look down at what he lacked. Instead, he looked up with what he had. Success in life is not determined by having been dealt the good hand. Success is determined by taking the hand you were dealt and utilizing it to the very best of your ability. As Ty Boyd, an outstanding speaker and TV personality from Charlotte, N.C., says, “Play the hand you were dealt and play it for all it’s worth.”

  Desire enables an individual to take whatever ability he has in whatever he’s doing and utilize it to the maximum. Desire forces an individual to pull out all the stops and give everything he’s got. It enables him to go full speed ahead with nothing held back. On a day-to-day basis, the winning touchdown is generally scored by the individual or team who has pulled out all the stops. In my judgment, each thing we do should be done to the best of our capabilities, whether we’re taking an examination, reporting for work, or getting involved in an athletic event. We should give it our best and then some, because our yearning power is more important than our earning power.

  When we give it our all we can live with ourselves—regardless of the results. Less than our best effort has us saying, “If only”—and that’s sad.

  Knute Rockne pointed out that a lot of people thought they had to be either good losers or bad winners. He felt this was a lousy choice. He also pointed out that he had no desire to get enough experience at losing to be good at it. “Show me a good loser,” he said, “and I’ll show you a loser. Give me eleven lousy losers and I’ll give you a national championship football team.” I concur. The way a man wins shows much of his character and the way he loses shows all of it. However, I’m speaking about the will, determination, and desire to win. We simply don’t have to make the choice between being good losers and bad winners. We can be good winners, and the more experience we have at winning, the better we become at acquiring the characteristics of being good winners. It works for teams, it works for individuals, and it will work for you, I guarantee it.

  CALL OUT THE RESERVES

  The desire to win enables many people to win who, at least theoretically, couldn’t win against overwhelming odds. Billy Miske was such a man. He was a fighter from the old school, and a good one at that. He fought men like Tommy Gibbons, Harry Greb, and Battling Levinsky. He also fought Jack Dempsey for the heavyweight championship of the world. At 25, when he should have been at his peak and headed for even greater heights, he was hospitalized with a serious illness. The doctors told him to quit the ring. He should have, but fighting was the only thing he could do. By the time he was 29, his kidneys were shot. He knew he was dying of Bright’s disease and he had only one fight that year. Too weak to go to the gym to train, and too sick to seek any other job, he stayed at home with his family and watched his family’s finances reach desperate straits.

  Christmas was around the corner and his love for his family cried out to him to provide that “Merry Christmas” for them. In November, Miske went into Minneapolis to see his friend and manager, Jack Reddy, to persuade him to arrange a fight. At first Reddy was adamant in his refusal. He knew of Miske’s condition and he would have no part in such a fight.

  Miske pleaded his case well, explained he was broke, and that he knew he wouldn’t be around much longer. He had to have just one more fight because Christmas was on its way and his family was in need. Finally, Reddy agreed under the condition that Miske train and get in shape. Miske knew he was too weak to get into shape, but promised he would make a good fight.

  Against his better judgment, Reddy finally gave in and matched his old friend with Bill Brennan. The fight was slated to take place in Omaha, Nebraska. Brennan was a tough, hard fighter who had gone twelve rounds with Dempsey. He was past his prime, but he was still a formidable opponent for a dying man.

  Since Miske didn’t have the stamina to train, he stayed at home to conserve his strength. He went to Omaha just in time for the fight. In those days, boxing commissions were considerably more lenient than they are today, so they passed Miske. The fight drew well and when it was over, Billy Miske picked up his $2,400 purse and went home to his family and Christmas. He spent it all on the things the family wanted and had been doing without. It was truly a happy occasion, the biggest Christmas the Miske family ever had. On December 26th, Miske called Jack Reddy to take him to the Saint Paul Hospital where he died on New Year’s Day.

  The last fight on his record had been just six weeks before and his friends couldn’t believe it. Billy was weak and dying, and it would have been easy for him to have taken a dive. However, his pride and desire to be at his best for the family he loved drove him to unbelievable efforts. Bill Brennan was knocked out in four rounds. Miske tapped his reserve resources because of his desire to win. Your reserves are available too—when you have the desire to use them.

  When we give anything our total effort we win, regardless of the outcome, because the personal satisfaction of total effort makes us winners. Randy Martin, whom I mentioned earlier, entered the Boston Marathon for the first time in 1972. This race is in excess of 26 miles and is over an extremely difficult uphill/downhill course. Dr. Martin tells me that every finisher is given an award. Most of the runners don’t enter the race with the belief that they can win, but anyone who finishes the race is a winner because the true reward of a thing well done is to have done it. This is a most important consideration, because in reality you are in competition with yourself. There is nothing as satisfying as knowing you have done your best, that you have driven yourself to use what you have to the very best of your ability. Total effort gives you a special kind of victory—victory over yourself because, as one champion gymnast says, “Doing your best is more importa
nt than being the best.”

  THE WINNER—AND STILL CHAMPION

  When I think of desire, I believe Ben Hogan rates close to the top of the list. Considering everything, Hogan could well be the greatest golfer who ever lived. He didn’t have as much physical ability as many of his fellow golfers, but what he might have lacked in ability he more than made up for in persistence, determination, and desire.

  Ben Hogan really had two careers, because at the very peak of his game he was involved in a near-fatal accident. One foggy morning as he and his wife, Valerie, were driving down the highway, they rounded a curve and saw the lights of a Greyhound bus immediately in front of them. Ben only had an instant to throw his body in front of his wife to protect her. This move undoubtedly saved his own life, because the steering wheel was pushed deeply into the driver’s seat where Ben had been sitting. For days his life hung in the balance before he was pronounced out of danger. However, the doctors unanimously agreed that his career as a professional golfer was over and he would be fortunate to ever walk again.

  But they didn’t reckon with the will and desire of Ben Hogan. As soon as he could take those first few painful steps, he revived his dream of golfing greatness. He exercised and strengthened his hands constantly. He kept a golf club with him wherever he was and practiced his putting stroke at home on legs so shaky he could scarcely stand. At the first opportunity he was back on the putting green, staggering around. Still later, as he worked and walked and strengthened those scarred legs, he went to the practice tee. Initially he only hit a few balls, but every session he would hit a few more.

  Finally the day came when he was able to get back on the golf course. When he re-entered competition, his move back to the top was rapid. The reason is simple: Ben Hogan saw himself as a winner. He had such an overwhelming desire to win, he knew he would make it back to the top. Yes, desire is the ingredient that makes the difference between an average performer and a champion.

  CHAPTER 24

  Intelligent Ignorance

  THE BUMBLEBEE CAN’T FLY

  Desire creates intelligent ignorance. Intelligent ignorance is the gift of not knowing what you can’t do, so you go ahead and do it. Many times this enables a person to accomplish the near impossible. For example, a new salesman joins an organization. With no sales experience he doesn’t really know anything about selling. Fortunately, he doesn’t know that he doesn’t know, and he’s motivated by need and/or desire. The result is he is so enthusiastic he leads the entire organization in sales. Not knowing he can’t do it, he does it. Maybe that’s why a “green” salesman is better than a “blue” one or a “yellow” one.

  It’s a well-known fact that the bumblebee can’t fly. Scientific evidence about it is overwhelming—the bumblebee can’t fly. His body is too heavy and his wings are too light. Aerodynamically, it is an impossibility for the bumblebee to fly, but the bumblebee doesn’t read—he does fly.

  BUILD ME A V-8

  Henry Ford was a most unusual man. He was not a financial success until after he was forty years old. He had very little formal education. After he built his empire, he conceived the idea of the V-8 engine. Calling his engineers together, he said, “Gentlemen, I want you to build a V-8 engine.” These brilliantly educated men knew the principles of mathematics, physics, and engineering. They knew what could and couldn’t be done. They looked at Ford with a condescending attitude of “Let’s humor the old man because, after all, he is the boss,” then very patiently explained to him that the V-8 engine was scientifically unfeasible, even explaining “why” it couldn’t be built economically. Ford wasn’t listening, however, and simply said, “Gentlemen, I must have a V-8 engine—build me one.”

  They half-heartedly worked for a period of time and reported back to him, “We are more convinced than ever that a V-8 engine is an engineering impossibility.” Mr. Ford, however, wasn’t easily persuaded. “Gentlemen, I must have a V-8 engine—so let’s go full-speed ahead.” Again they went out and this time they worked a little harder, spent a little more time, and a lot more money. They came back with the same report: “Mr. Ford, the V-8 engine is an absolute impossibility.”

  The word “impossible” was not included in the vocabulary of the man who had already revolutionized the industry with assemblyline production, $5.00-a-day wages, the Model T and the Model A. With fire in his eyes, Henry Ford said, “Gentlemen, you don’t understand. I must have a V-8 engine and you’re going to build it for me. Now go do it.” Guess what? They built the V-8 engine. They did it because one man was intelligently ignorant enough not to know that something couldn’t be done—so he did it. We see this every day, don’t we? One says he can’t— and doesn’t. One says he can—and does.

  The “I CAN” concept is so important that Mamie McCullough, who taught at Central High School in Thomasville, Georgia, conceived the idea of using an “eye can” in her class (she taught, among other things, the “I CAN” course with this book as the text). Mrs. McCullough had the students bring a tin can to class and she attached a picture of an eye to it so the can literally became an “eye can.” If a student goofed and said, “I can’t,” everybody reminded him or her that they were in an “I CAN” class. Positive results have been dramatic and 4 million students have benefited. With the formation of the not-for-profit Living to Change Lives Foundation attracting broad public support, we have every reason to believe that number will grow rapidly.

  Now, in 2000, two companion courses called Coaching to Change Lives and Teaching to Change Lives are catching fire and fits all students but is especially beneficial for enhancing academic and athletic performance. Using the “I Can” philosophy in the 1990s, Coach D. W. Rutledge of Judson High School in San Antonio, Texas, took his team to the “final four” four times, and won the state 5A championship three times. Coach Dennis Parker took Marshall, Texas, the smallest 5A school in Texas, to the playoffs just three years after he arrived and to a state championship the next year. Incidentally, Marshall hadn’t won a playoff game since Y.A. Tittle was their quarterback in 1948.

  With so many negatives being taught, isn’t it refreshing and exciting to see what a little creative imagination and positive thinking can do? Can you just imagine what 10,000 Mamie McCulloughs teaching this philosophy in schoolrooms all over America could accomplish?

  INTELLIGENT IGNORANCE PLUS LEMON EQUALS LEMONADE

  At one point during World War II, General Creighton Abrams and his command were totally surrounded. The enemy was north, east, south, and west. His reaction to this news (lemon): “Gentlemen, for the first time in the history of this campaign, we are now in a position to attack the enemy in any direction.” General Abrams not only had the desire to live, he had the desire to win. It’s not the situation (lemon), but the way we react to it (use we make of it) that’s important.

  What is intelligent ignorance? Intelligent ignorance is essentially the way you respond to the unpromising or negative situations in life. It’s shown in the attitude of two men who had polio. One became a beggar on the streets of Washington. The other was Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Intelligent ignorance is the seed of hope, the promise of good in everything that happens to us. Regardless of what happens, something positive can come from it, and we can make something good out of it. In short, we can take whatever lemon life hands us and convert it to lemonade.

  Charles Kettering had a rather unusual lemon. It was a broken arm. Many years ago he was in his front yard cranking his car and it “kicked” him. For the younger generation, that means the crank didn’t disengage, jerked sharply as a cylinder began firing, and turned the crank rather than the crank turning the engine. The sudden lurch broke Kettering’s arm. What did he do? First, he grasped his arm in pain. Almost immediately, however, he thought, “This is a terrible thing to happen while you’re cranking a car. An easier, better, safer way to crank cars must be developed or the masses won’t have any desire to own an automobile.” As a result, he invented the “self-starter.” His lemon, a broken
arm, is our lemonade.

  Jacob Schick’s lemon was a temperature that fell to 40 degrees below zero while he was prospecting for gold. He couldn’t shave with a blade, so he invented the first electric razor, which turned into a big enough gold mine to buy lots of lemonade.

  Neal Jeffrey, third string freshman quarterback at Baylor University, had a giant-sized lemon. He stuttered. He told Coach Teaff that his goal was to play first string quarterback for the varsity. Neal’s burning desire enabled him to realize his dream and in 1974 he led Baylor to its first Southwest Conference Championship in 50 years. Neal made All-Southwest Conference and was voted most valuable player in the Conference.

  Eugene O’Neill was a drifter until his lemon, in the form of an illness, placed him in the hospital. He converted that lemon to lemonade because while flat on his back he started to write his plays. Hundreds of similar stories explain why—and how—you can take virtually any lemon, apply enough desire, which creates intelligent ignorance, and come out with lemonade.

  SUCCESS IN A DUMPSTER

  Michael Clark was a self-employed carpet installer. Before new carpeting can be installed, in many cases the old, dirty, worn-out carpeting must be removed from the floor. One day, Michael Clark was putting some old carpeting into a dumpster and happened to see a new, shrinkwrapped, three-album audio series of our tapes entitled “How to Stay Motivated” inside the dumpster. At a glance, my name on the album sounded familiar, but Michael wasn’t sure why. Figuring he had nothing to lose by taking the discarded albums, he grabbed them.