So I watched the f1 race this weekend.
Max Verstappen is an incredibly gifted insufferable bastard who can’t be beaten and wants everyone to know it.
God he reminds me of me.
But a younger version of me.
Obsessed. Driven. Unstoppable. Willing to take penalties, because it doesn’t matter. It truly doesn’t. In the end we will always win. Always find a way. Always. Always. Always.*
*not a guarantee.
But being so much better than anyone else at your chosen profession is a blessing. And yes, you have to work hard. And yes, you have to earn it. But still… it is a blessing. It doesn’t come from you. You didn’t choose it.
It chose you.
And it took me a while to realize that being THAT MUCH BETTER means that you owe every one else something, and not vice versa.
Greatness is a debt.
It is a debt.
And the truly great ones spend their entire lives paying it back.
Max will figure that out one day. And I will watch him mature and enjoy it.
In the meantime, my Raptors–little league team I coach on the DL–took first place. Really big deal actually given the caliber of the league and the dynamics. So disciplined.
That’s my calling card, in case you missed it. Not the most talented team, perhaps. Just the one that wants it more–and doesn’t make mistakes. And works hardest. And, in the end, the one that always seems to win somehow.
As if by magic.
But it isn’t magic. Its hard work. Its discipline. Its execution. Its knowing what needs to be done and having the will to do it.
There’s probably a point here some place but I billed more hours last week–over 90– than I have in my entire career. And I have a hearing in the morning. So I will forgive myself for being less cogent than usual.
It is Thanksgiving week. And I LOVE all of you. And I am truly grateful for you. And I will keep working hard for you.