Instructions Not Included
How do you become something? I actually have no idea…
My dad took me to my first Little League World Series when I was 9-years-old. We sat in the grass, just beyond right-center field, surrounded by more than 30,000 people also there to watch 11- and 12-year-olds play baseball in its purest form. I was certain it was just a matter of time before I too would step on the field at Howard J. Lamade Stadium. Time was still on my side…
I took a swing and followed the ball as it took off into the distance. The bat was imaginary… I was standing in the kitchen reenacting my home run from a couple hours before. My parents played along. I told them about the car I was going to get with the money there were saving for my college education. I was 15-years-old, not yet old enough to drive alone, and convinced I’d be going to the college of my choice on a baseball scholarship.
We’d just lost 21–20 in the Regional final, one game short of the JUCO World Series. I wanted to be anywhere else other than the coach’s office. But there I was… coach pulled out a yellow legal pad. He started writing as he was thinking out loud in question form. Down the left the reasons why I should leave college early. The right… the reasons I should return. In his mind, and mine too, it was a foregone conclusion that I’d be drafted later that summer.
It was my first company and the first time I was asking other people to invest in me. I had just closed my first round. Everyone was excited. I was headed out to play golf with one of the investors. The entire ride all about this exclusive club and how soon until the company as a unicorn. I was promised a membership when we sold.
As you can probably imagine, I never played in the Little League World Series… although I’ve been back a bunch of times and would recommend it, at least once, to anyone. I didn’t actually get a baseball scholarship until my junior year… of college. I was never drafted. And you guessed it, I never did sell that company.
It always felt like when, not if, right up until someday became too late. I could give you a ton of reasons why these things, and so many others, never happened. Excuses and blame is always easier than responsibility. But I’ve come to terms with the fact that for much of my life I haven’t done enough of the right things. And the truth is, I really have no idea what the right things are…
You want great-tasting brownies, follow a recipe. You want a desk that looks like the one in the display, buy it and follow the instructions. But the things in life that aren’t one-size-fits-all, like success and happiness and relationships… those things are void of instructions. The things that matter are an imperfect, ever-changing combination of the work you put in and a bit of luck… the right place, right time kind of luck. Anyone that tells you otherwise is an idiot and spinning some bullshit to try and take your money.
You can and should learn from past experiences… both your own and those of others. If the stove is hot, don’t touch it again. If you find something that works, figure out how to do it better, faster and cheaper next time. But know that what worked for someone else will, at best, only work to a certain extent for you. Different people, different situations, different motivations. It’s the nuances that are often overlooked. But it’s the nuances that make anything worth it, worth it.
I have no idea how to become something… I’m still struggling to figure out me. I can, however, tell you with absolute certainty that there’s no hope in hope. Execute. Focus on being really good at something you’re passionate about. Be present. Solve problems people care about with repeatable solutions. Care.
Trust me, things will never look and feel like they did when you were thinking about how they would look and feel. In fact, they probably won’t happen. But that’s okay… that’s life. Create your own instruction manual. Because before it’s over, there is bound to be a next time and you’ll sure be glad you had it…
