The Moment

   I wanted to take an opportunity to explain something today. Many people don’t understand why professional sports are so popular. They don’t understand how something that matters so little ends up meaning so much to people like me. For us, the game is everything, though. It’s a representation of us. We see ourselves in those teams and in those individuals. Don’t believe me? I can show you.

   Last Sunday, the Packers played the Seahawks in the NFC Championship. For 3 quarters and 11 minutes, the Packers absolutely manhandled the Seahawks. They had a 12 point lead with only 4 minutes left, and no one could have predicted what followed. The Seahawks scored 15 points in less than 3 minutes and went on to win in overtime, making it one of the biggest and best comebacks in history. It also broke the heart of this Packer fan. As I screamed at the television and even had a few choice words for some of the more disappointing players, my dad reminded me that it was just a game. For me, it was so much more, though. You have to understand something. I don’t expect the Packers to win all the time, but they’ve always put forward the best effort I thought was possible, and I certainly never labeled them as chokers. In this way, I felt like I could relate to this team. As a matter of fact, it was one of the first things that made me identify with the organization. The fact that they could fall so far so quickly, and mainly due to their own mistakes, made me question everything about myself. It was just a game, but it reminded me of everything I could lose.

   I’ve always been the type of guy who loves crunch time. I like being backed up against a deadline or having to take the last shot in a game. I love that moment when you see someone who strikes you in the most amazing way and you can take a chance on them and go talk to them or chicken out. I rise to those kinds of occasions. I come through. Here’s the thing, though. I’m scared in those moments. I want them, but I’m always so afraid that I’ll fail. I haven’t yet. That’s not to say I’ve never failed at anything. Seriously, I can give you a long list of things that I’ve failed at, but for a long time, I’ve come through when it really mattered. There’s a story behind that. When I was 9 years old, I played baseball. It’s one of the few things I’ve never been able to be halfway decent at. I’m really bad to this day. There were 2 outs, and I had to get a hit to keep the game going. I didn’t come through. I could have, but I was crushed under the weight of the moment. I didn’t want to be there taking that swing, and I had already decided that I wasn’t going to get a hit simply by letting my fear completely take over. It was on that day that a young 9 year old went home and really thought about who he was. He didn’t want to be that guy anymore. I watched guys like Jordan make the shots when it mattered, and that’s the type of man I wanted to be. I didn’t care if people thought I came through all the time. I just wanted them to know I always would when it really mattered. I never didn’t come through in crunch time again. I delivered because I never wanted to feel like I did that day again. When I looked into the eyes of Bostick, Rodgers, Matthews, and McCarthy, I saw something so familiar. It was fear and a realization that everything they had dreamed of was about to go down the drain. It didn’t happen when the game was over. It happened as soon as Bostick dropped an onside kick that gave the Seahawks an opportunity to win the game. It was over at that point. Too many people on that team had let fear and disappointment take them. I was reminded of myself when I looked at them, and it infuriated me.

   Still think it’s just a game? Sure, you might be thinking you struck out when you were 9. What’s the big deal? You’re right. The truth is that it wasn’t a big deal, but it represents a huge one. I’m absolutely terrified of not having the right words or ability when people are truly counting on me or I have a chance for something great. I’m scared of failure, and deep down I’m afraid that my fear will cause me to become that same scared 9 year old again one day. I’m afraid that I won’t make that shot or I won’t know what to say to that girl, or even worse. What if I let the people I love down when all the chips are on the table? What if I choke under the pressure of everything that’s on me today? I want those pressure moments because they remind me that I’m not a loser or weak. I’m strong, and I come through when it’s on the line. What if I’m not one day, though? Will I be able to handle it? A lot of people struggle with looking at other’s mistakes and dissecting them and judging everything about that person. That’s not me, though. The things I dissect are my biggest failures in the most important moments. That’s led to me knowing what to do when it matters and there not being many moments that end in failure, but it has also led to failure not being an option. What will happen when I choke, though? Will I be reminded of who I might be at heart? We can’t stay perfect forever, and sooner or later, I’ll lose my words, my creativity, or even my instinct to finish in situations. Who will I be then, and will I be able to look at that man in the mirror?

   I couldn’t accept a loss that I felt never should have happened Sunday, but that’s not what yelling at that television was really about. It was about looking at a picture of what could be my future if I don’t cover all the angles or if I get too comfortable in any given situation. It was a reminder that you can lose it all if you take your foot off the pedal or get too comfortable with your position. It was about my inability to accept anything less than great in crunch time. I’m not a perfectionist. I just believe in doing things right when they matter most, and it broke my heart to see the exact opposite last Sunday. It also reminded me of how everything can change in a moment. Maybe deep down I’m that same kid who choked when I was 9, but I’m not accepting that right now. I’m going to be the person I choose to be right now, and that man doesn’t get comfortable in a good situation or choke when his goals are in reach. He keeps his eyes on the prize and lets the fear of losing it all drive him rather than pull him down.

   I love my Packers, and I loved that kid I used to be, but I never want to see him again. I want the pressure to be something that propels me forward. It is one way or the other. We can tank in our jobs, relationships, and social lives, or we can rise. Make no mistake about it. There is no in-between. The moment you freeze, you’re sinking like in quick sand. This blog might seem a bit bleak, but it’s actually the opposite of that. Seeing the sorry display I watched Sunday reminded me that I have to keep striving for more in my work and social life because the moment I stop moving forward and wanting the moments that really matter, it all just slips away like it was never there to begin with. My goals and my dreams fall to someone with more ambition or with better instincts. Maybe I shouldn’t feel that way. Most would say that, but I want to be that person who comes through when it matters. I want to be him for myself, my friends, and my future family. I caught a quick glimpse at individuals who gave their dreams away Sunday, and I thought not me. My life, my relationships, and everything that comes between might go terribly wrong, but it won’t be because I didn’t rise to the occasion because the fear of not reaching my goals won’t petrify me. It’ll be the driving point of everything that I ever do in this life for myself and those I love.