Players ... and the ones for whom sports builds character

If a life spent around sports has taught me anything, it's that there are two kids of people on every team:

The ones who can play.

And the ones for whom sports builds character.

Don't get me wrong. I absolutely believe that participating in sports can indeed build character. You learn discipline. You learn how not to give up. You learn how to get up when you get beat or knocked down. You learn to trust teammates and/or coaches, and to rely on them. You learn to respect authority (even if sometimes that authority is wrong). You learn that life is not fair, that some people are just more talented than you are for no reason other than genetics or God-given talent; just like you will also find out that you are better than some people for the same reason. You can also learn that you can take what talent you have and squeeze every bit possible out of that limited supply, and add to it by using your head, relying on teammates, understanding the rhythm of the game you are playing, simply work hard to be ready to take advantage of every break, recognize luck when it occurs, and accomplish more than you or anyone else ever thought you could.

But then there are those who play the game at such a level that they can get away with anything. Or so it seems. Grades? If it means being eligible to play, someone will make sure they get the help they need to be eligible. Rules? They don't need no stinkin' rules! The rules don't apply for the incredibly talented, because their talent knows no boundaries, which means the rules are treated more as "suggested guidelines." Practice? I refer to Alan Iverson, who was hardly alone among superstar athletes in his contempt for practice. I can't begin to tell you how many great athletes I have witnessed over the years in a career in sports who were allowed to exempt themselves from practice (usually under the guise of a pulled hamstring that miraculously healed itself by game time).

I don't mean for that to sound mean or bitter or angry. But it's true. On any team, there are the people that create value by giving their team the best chance to win, and so someone has always been there to make sure they are on the field/court/arena/whatever. It's just the way it is.

That's not just in sports, of course. Music, art, business, law, religion, you name it - very often, the very best understand their talent and ability puts them above everyone else and excuses are made for their lack of "character."

But the thing about it is, they rarely even realize they suffer from a lack of character, because this is just how it's always been for them.


Meanwhile, the 'average' ones, the ones who are good enough to play but maybe not so good that excuses are made for them when they screw up, learn discipline, and self-control, and determination, and loyalty and patience and even humility and how to win and lose with, well, "character."

Which reminds me of a time, in my early days, attending a high school sports banquet in a small community. The guest speaker was a local AM radio sports guy (not me, although I have been a local AM radio sports guy now that I think about it), and he was waxing poetic about the virtue of sports. He said something like, "we need sports, because sports builds character, and without sports young men would be out there experimenting with alcohol and drugs,'' to which the kid sitting next to me leaned over and whispered, "he's never been to one of our team parties!"

Here's another thing, however: sports is a great equalizer. In the vast majority of cases, eventually even the best become average.

The best kid on that middle school team? How often does he get to high school and find out he's "average." The best kid on the high school team? He might realize that, compared to other kids in the league/city, he's just "average." Certainly if he goes on to college - remember almost every kid on a college team was the best, or one of the best,on their high school teams. College to pros, same thing. Pros? Most are just hanging on year to year, knowing the team is always looking to find someone better (or someone just as good who is cheaper). If the best of the pros stick around long enough, they often end up role players (two former Boston Celtics come to mind: the great Pete Maravich - maybe the best ball-handler and shooter in basketball history - coming off the bench for the Boston Celtics in 1980; the great Bill Walton as the Celtics' "sixth man" in 1987).

Of course, that progression doesn't always mean those athletes learn "character" (however you define that). Sometimes the lessons ingrained in them as "stars," the special treatment they received and came to expect because that was all they ever knew, overrides the lessons that should be theirs in learning how to be a role player.

But to be honest, I ask myself: would I rather have been a superstar, or learned character?

I have to admit, I wonder what it would be like to be dominant in a particular field. I wonder if I wouldn't have been a bit arrogant about it. I think about a story I heard about Heisman Trophy winner and hall of fame football coach Steve Spurrier who, even as a head football coach later in his career, was known to see quarterbacks half and sometimes a third of his age struggling with a particular throw and saying, "Maybe that's just too tough of a throw. Let me try it." At which point he'd rifle the pass exactly where he wanted it to go with zip on the ball and say, "No, it's not the throw. I guess you're just not good enough." It's kind of cruel, but I have no doubt it was true. And I also have to admit, wouldn't it be fun to be able to do that?

I'm not saying Spurrier didn't/doesn't have character. I'm just saying he was arrogant. Of course, he could usually back it up, too. As the saying goes, it ain't bragging if it's a fact. And I have to admit sometimes I wish I could be so successfully arrogant.

There are the superstars who are great teammates, who display character. And as I just pointed out, there are those athletes who should be learning character but the old, early habits are too ingrained.

Years ago I read a story about a bunch of top American CEO's who recalled getting cut from their sports teams. Maybe it was high school, maybe college, but they recalled with great clarity the moment when they realized they were not going to make the team, that they were not good enough. And despite all the success they had in business, all the money they made, the good they did in their communities, they all remembered clearly that moment when they were told they weren't good enough. And it drove them to succeed in other areas.

Another side note - I did a story on world class decathlete Trey Hardee, a world champion in his sport who, unfortunately, hit his peak between Olympic years (although he did win Silver in 2012). His motivation was being cut from his high school basketball team as a junior (which he still feels was unjustified!), driving him to track and field.

That leads me to two of my favorite Michael Jordan quotes. Jordan, of course, may well have been the greatest basketball player ever.

Jordan said two things that I think apply here:

“I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.”

and

“I can accept failure; everyone fails at something. But I can't accept not trying.”

Those are pretty good summaries.

But lest we get carried away with Michael Jordan, remember he's also the guy who, when told "there is no 'I' in team," responded with "Yes, but there is in 'win.'"