I had a meeting today with a finance company, and got there about 15 minutes early. One of the financiers came into the conference room and talked to me while we waited for everyone else to show up. We were talking about basketball, and he told me about how he played in college--at a D-1 school in a major conference--and then made a self-deprecating remark about how it was a football conference so it was no big deal. I'm paraphrasing myself:
"Dude, you played D1 ball. D1 is D1. Very few people are good enough to even do that. I wasn't. It's an awesome achievement. It's like my friend who got a 10-day contract in the NBA. Yeah, it was only ten days, but he played in The League. But I would kill for ten days in The League."
We went on and talked about other things, but driving away from the meeting, this snippet of conversation stuck with me.
One of the things I wanted more than anything was to be an NBA point guard, and of course I never came remotely close. But if I was given the chance play out a ten day contract, I would savor every moment. The shoot around, putting a real NBA uniform on, team meals, watching tape of your opponents, playing in front of tens of thousands of people against the best players in the world, even lacing up my free shoes--I would cherish and remember every moment for the rest of my life. The stuff that the veterans all take for granted would mean everything to me.
Contrast this to the superstar who, instead of taking a moment to savor the fact that he gets to play basketball for his job, worries about his sneaker contract or baby mama drama or whatever. And if you're a REAL bitch, you're Latrell Sprewell, you complain that 40 million dollars isn't enough to eat and you choke your coach.
It's a weird truism of psychology: the guy who has very little is often happier than the one who has a lot, but not everything. This holds true in the Olympics. Several studies have shown that the gold medalist is the happiest, but the bronze medalist is happier than the silver medalist. Why? Because the bronze medalist is just happy they medaled, while all the silver medalist can do is anguish about barely missing the gold.
I am making a movie about my life. Seriously--how many people would kill to switch places with me? I have worked so long and hard to get here, and now I'm living the dream...but I'm having the hardest time stopping to appreciate it while it's happening. All I do is stress about things and bust my ass to make sure it's as perfect as possible.
It's just so hard for me to stop and appreciate anything because I am so driven to succeed. For me, everything is conquering this mountain I have put in front of myself; I can't stop and look at how far I've come, because the only thing that matters to me is how far I have to go. Clearly, working very hard is a good thing, but there has to be a balance.
Every once in a while, I need to see myself as the guy with the ten day contract, living the dream, excited about what he's done and just trying to take it all in. Obviously I can't spend too much time sucking my own dick, because we still have to make the movie; I just need to re-center myself and learn how to balance both perspectives.
At some point, I am going to be at the top, and there will be no more mountains to climb. If, by that time, I am not used to appreciating what is below me, it might be too late to learn.
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