Crazy, crazy, crazy...

It was cold last night... below freezing when we got up this morning, in fact. (It's about 4:30 pm right now and it's still cold. Brrrr.)

I missed a call from a client this morning. Instead of calling my cell phone, they called my house, and I didn't find out about it until it was too late. Apparently, there are to be a number of meetings in Houston next week, and it would have been nice to be involved in one of them, seeing as how the next ISS flight has been put off again, past the 5th of July. The work would have involved missing Father's Day here in Pagosa, but also would have involved some positive cash flow a bit down the line, too.

Ah, well. Nothing to be done about it now, except to ask folks to convey messages in a somewhat more timely manner, and to hope that the end user's propensity to make last-minute changes in their requirements has not been cured in the recent past. There's still a chance.

I've spent the last couple of hours blocking in the store's web site, which reminds me that I ought to check my e-mail to see if there's any answer from the credit card people. They basically said it'd be a 24-hour turnaround on the "application," though there is no great rush right now. I've got to download some software, according to my web provider, which will allow me to create products for sale on the store's site. More work.

(So, maybe it's a good thing I missed that call... I'm not sure I could do all of this and work a meeting at the same time.)

Break's over... gotta get back to work. (That, or do a bunch of jumping jacks to get warm. Brrr.)

Cheers...

Poetry in prose...

From The Legend of Bagger Vance:

There were nights, after Jeannie died, when I would creep into this room, alone, in those black hours beyond the stroke of two, and steal a glance at that one word.

Winner.

Does that sound superficial? Perhaps it was a rather slender straw to grasp at. And yet there is something profound and mysterious about the vastness of the gulf between "winner" and "runner-up." Even one time, just once at any level, to prevail. To be, for one fragile moment, the best.

I love Pressfield's poetry; I have my doubts about the sentiment. Or parts of it.

Oh, there is nothing at all wrong with winning. I've tasted the rarefied air in the winner's circle. It's just that often, it is easy to slip past some ill-defined point where winning stops being an end and starts becoming a way of life, a means without an end.

I am reminded of Searching for Bobby Fischer the other night, when the father responds to his son's doubts about winning by dismissing the idea out of hand. ("What if I lose?" says Josh. "That won't happen," responds his father.)

That's typical "coach" thinking: get everyone keyed up and push every button there is to obtain maximum performance. Maybe that's a good idea in boot camp, but not for playing games.

I think the only proper motivation for wanting to win a game must come from within. It can't be based on someone telling you how and why you must win for something that isn't your own. Coaches should be skilled in motivating people to want to make things their own, without making the process obvious.

I am reminded of the scene at the climax of Remember the Titans where Denzel Washington tells his team, "Okay, we may get beaten, but if we do, let's make sure they never forget us!" That's an example of what may be described as - and has been described on many citations for the Medal of Honor - "words of encouragement."

That's what coaches ought to be: encouragers.

Still... Pressfield's words ring true.

Cheers...