Decision with a Capital ‘D’

About halfway through the death march of the Broncos’ last season, my brother-in-law Brad said he knew just what Denver needed.

“They ought to get Sean Payton at coach,” he said. “He knows how to get the most out of a quarterback like Russell Wilson. It’d be a great fit.”

We laughed and bantered and said, sure, that would be interesting. But it wasn’t going to happen. Too high a price, too many other teams likely to be interested, most of them with better prospects. Everyone knew the sort of coach that came to the Orange Crash these days: rookies and maybes, not former Super Bowl champions. Right?

Well.

Maybe I should let Brad buy a lottery ticket or two.

As you know if you’ve even casually glanced at a Denver sports page these days, the Saint has come marchin’ in. Naturally, his selection also kicked off a debate, because if there’s one thing Bronco fans love almost as much as a win, it’s an argument.  For the pro-Payton bunch, it’s the hiring of a proven winner with the prestige and tools to rebuild Denver. For the “punt on Payton” people, it’s mortgaging future draft picks against an uncertain present, one who’s been out of the game for a while and was right at the storm center of “Bountygate” a decade ago.

But good, bad or ugly, the choice has been made to shake things up. And that’s bigger news than Payton himself.

It’s easy to keep doing the same things in the same way. We see it in sports teams, in business and government, even in ourselves. And when times get hard, we often double down on it. Why risk what you still have? Best to play it safe, turtle up and weather the storm, right?

The trouble is, it often doesn’t work. Sometimes it means you’re trying to get out of a situation with the same approach that got you into it. Other times, it means you’re postponing any decision and just waiting for things to improve. But not deciding is a decision itself, and one that takes the initiative out of your hands.

To fix something, you have to risk breaking it. Commit to the action. Take the chance. Turn off the route you’re on, even if it feels like a major detour.

“The longest way round,” Alexander MacLaren once wrote, “is sometimes the shortest way home.”

Yes, it can be a gamble. Action in the face of uncertainty often is. It’s uncomfortable, not least because it exposes you to criticism. Failing by the numbers, after all, shows you knew how to “do it right” – you’re part of the club. Taking a chance that doesn’t work turns everyone else into an expert on what you SHOULD have done.

But when the conventional just perpetuates the cycle, it doesn’t make sense to keep committing to the same old three-yards-and-a-cloud-of-dust. Then it’s time to decide. And risk.

Will this risk pay off for Denver? It’s too early to say either way. (I knew I shouldn’t have sent my crystal ball to the cleaners this week.) But it’s an attempt to break beyond the mediocre, to literally change the game.

That’s not a bad model. On the field or off it. After all, failing doesn’t have to mean failure … as long as it leads to the next attempt.

And if this one fails, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of fans ready to tell the Broncos exactly what that next attempt should be.

Right, Brad?

A Good Failing About This

Some people spend their life working in a cube. George Scholey just made a name for himself by solving them.

Nearly 7,000 of them, to be exact.

That “nearly” is important, by the way. Scholey recently became the world’s new master of the Rubik’s cube by solving 6,931 of the three-dimensional puzzles in 24 hours. That’s enough for a new Guinness world record … but apparently not enough for his own satisfaction.

“Toward the end of the night I saw I was getting closer to 7,000, and I’m a bit annoyed I didn’t get that result,” he told UPI. “But that’s fine.”

If that makes your head ache and your tendonitis flare just thinking about it, you’ve probably got a lot of company. Most of us would be feeling more than “fine” at an achievement like that. Heck, I’d be ecstatic to solve it once. (Word games, I’m good. Tactile games, eep!)

But of course, that’s just it. When you’re familiar with something, you’re never quite satisfied. That’s what pushes some to keep becoming the best … and others to quit before they’ve barely started.

After all, the thing we’re most familiar with – or think we are – is ourselves. Or, more to the point, our limits.

I play a decent piano. My family and friends enjoy hearing it. But when I watch a professional at work, I feel like a kid plinking out “Twinkle, Twinkle.”  There’s a gulf between my work and theirs and I’m falling down it like Wile E. Coyote.

Many people have a similar story. It might be the hobbyist painter watching the ease of an expert artist. Or the first-time National Novel Writing Month participant comparing their pages to their favorite author. Or the homeowner who struggles to loosen a bolt watching their handyman neighbor complete a major plumbing renovation.

Mind you, there’s nothing wrong with setting high standards or drawing inspiration from someone better. We can all learn from someone else and use those lessons to improve. But when those glances become a source of intimidation rather than inspiration … well, to quote the old first-grade teacher, that’s when it’s time to keep your eyes on your own work.

You see, we’re going to fail. And we need to get used to it.

That’s not a condemnation, just a fact. Learning requires failure. Most of us don’t get to be Mozart; we have to be bad at something before we get to be good at it. Everybody’s got a different axiom about how long it takes  – so many hours, or so many days, or so many attempts – but that basic truth remains the same. Even saying “practice makes perfect” doesn’t really get at it, because the real goal at each step is to be less imperfect than you were before.

And that’s not an easy tightrope to walk. Willing to be imperfect, but not so comfortable as to stop working. Wanting to be better without being crushed by expectations. That’s a puzzle that makes a Rubik’s cube look easy … or even 6,931 of them.

But it can be solved. And the solution will be yours. Not the expert’s. Not your neighbor’s.

That’s encouraging. Frustrating at times, maybe, but encouraging nonetheless.

So keep it up. Because not only are you still learning a skill, you’re still learning yourself. And there’s more to find than you might think.

That’s a pretty “fine” place to be.