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Making
things happen - with integrity. A weekly CyberMemo designed to keep you on task. Monday, September 18, 2000 Volume II Number 38
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FOCUS - Comfort Zone
Friday nights in America still draw big crowds… live and in person entertainment for six bucks a seat… it’s a tradition that is hardly threatened, despite all the brouhaha. It’s the high school football game.
Fall is well underway. Hell week is over. The summer work-outs are a thing of the past. Pumping iron. Running the distance. And then the wind sprints. The preparation is done. It’s time to don the pads, put on the school colors and march like Gladiators onto the gridiron for head to head combat under the lights.
We got in on some of the magic this week.
We walked up to the stadium to the pounding of a steady rolling cadence from the bass drum and snare. The trumpets blast a melody, pickup up by the clarinets and underscored by blaring trombones and the rumble of a big brass tuba. Parents line up, grandparents, too, checking The Program to make sure their name is spelled correctly. Extended family and community leaders file into the bleachers, working the lines, schmoozing and greeting and throwing their heads back at a funny line. The PA system squeaks feedback periodically, as the announcer reminds the crowd that Pizza and Candy and fizzy Soft Drinks are available at the Snack Bar. Eager videographers mount their cameras on tripods on the roof of the announcer’s booth, ready to capture the big event in its entirety from their bird’s eye perch. The still photo guys wander the sidelines wearing safari vests; pockets jammed with gear and rolls of 35mm film… monster telephoto lenses at the ready. Their batteries are charged up; ready to run the motorized high-speed film advance and the lightening size strobe flash.
Cheerleaders are gymnasts these days.
They kick and run and jump, choreographing their handsprings and flips, and dancing to the band’s rendition of some spirited tune, then climbing on top of each other to form a human Eiffel Tower, which collapses at a precise moment, pretty young girls in short skirts and sweaters featuring the school logo, falling at once into the arms of waiting fellow cheer-mates who catch them just in the nick of time to the horror of moms present all across the audience. The mascot wanders up and down the row, greeting and hugging and waving the school flag and gesturing to the stands, encouraging one and all to stand up and cheer.
The student body, for the most part, is not there for the game. It’s Friday night. Time to socialize. To see who is hanging with whom. To sport Friday night clothes. To push and laugh and shove and pinch and scream with delight. Certain among them intent in their commitment to non-conformity… conforming to one another in their outrageous costuming prompting some parents to boast, “it is comforting to know that my child does not associate with that crowd.” And frankly, it must be.
It’s the adults who are there for the game.
Dads reviewing the line up, comparing notes on the stats. Who on the opposing team must the defense stop tonight if victory is going to be assured? Who will be “starting” for the home team? These adult fans are assessing the coach’s effectiveness in preparing the team for tonight’s confrontation. Quoting from the most recent article on the local sports page. Pondering the big question – does the passing game have a chance, or should they stick to the running game? Moms have their antennas up… are they talking about my child?
But the real magic of Friday night high school football came in the fourth quarter.
* * * * * *
Cathy Freeman is now a household name.
She is a world-class runner. From early on, she was a natural born sprinter and hurdler. At age 16 she surprised the world with a Gold Medal win at the 1990 Commonwealth Games. Two years later, she took a Silver Medal home from the 1992 Olympic Games in Atlanta. At the 1994 Commonwealth Games in British Columbia, she won two more Golds.
Competing now as a World Champion and a national hero, she is making her second appearance in the Olympic Games, this time in Sydney.
She is also controversial. When she won those Gold Medals in 1994, she broke tradition. On her first victory lap, she draped two flags around her shoulders instead of one. One was the traditional national flag… but the second was a regional flag… she wore it because it represented her people; people who she believes are misunderstood. People who suffered serious abuse. People who need acceptance and encouragement.
Her coach was not amused. In a move that caused international outrage, Cathy Freeman was reprimanded for “politicizing” the Commonwealth Games. She listened to her coach… and then promptly lined up for the next event… and finished first again. Her second Gold. And in a defiant second victory lap, donned the same TWO flags… to the delight and cheers of the crowd.
World opinion registered heavily against the coach’s action. In a public statement, he announced a change of heart. He apologized to Cathy and to her people and to the world. He cancelled out the reprimand.
Catherine Freeman, born February 16, 1973 in Mackay, Queensland in Australia, is an Aborigine.
* * * * * * * *
I’m getting old enough now to like my Comfort Zone. I know that it’s good to stretch and to grow and to reach.
And I know it is important to stay on the cutting edge. And it is good to take time for assessment, and improvement, and to position for growth and to take risks.
But its getting easier and easier to say, “I’ll have to get around to that sometime soon…”
And then stay right there in the comfort zone. Right there on the overstuffed chair of life… keeping things simple and predictable and uncomplicated.
This week, I got pushed out of my CZ. No one forced it on me. But it was uncomfortable. Unsettling. And healthy.
* * * * * * * *
In last week’s game, our starting Quarterback got injured. Pretty seriously. A concussion. We don’t know when he will return to action.
So our head coach went to the bench. He found two qualified candidates… neither of them experienced on the varsity level. They are both sophomores. One up from the Junior Varsity – for the first time.
The unknown, untested JV got the nod for the starting spot.
Friday night, the buzz in the bleachers was that the starting sophomore quarterback seemed awfully small. He took a snap. Fumbled. We recovered. And then on the next play, he looked tentative on the hand-off… a couple of dads rolled their eyes back, shrugged with their hands in the air, and said, “it’s gunna be a long night.”
Then he dropped back to pass - looking for a receiver. He found one, running full speed, wide open about thirty yards out. Then thirty-five. Our sophomore cocked the ball, reared back and let it go. Everyone jumped to his or her feet – then as the ball failed to take fight - groaned. It was a low wobbly line drive that fell about fifteen yards short. Not even close. And the receiver with touchdown dreams cut the throttle, slowed to a trot and stared at the ground beneath his feet in utter disgust. The defense danced in jubilation.
Our head coach kicked the grass, slapped his clipboard and shook his head.
It didn’t look good.
Until our sophomore found his groove. He shook off the mistakes. He took the ball himself, and ran left, showing us his speed and agility. Then shaking a tackler. And another. Dodging left, then right, finding a hole in the defense and picking up a first down.
Dad’s look at each other knowingly, nodding approval and saying “YES!” And then high fivin.’
Then he dropped back once more, found that same receiver just as open, cocked his arm just like before and let it fly. This time he launched the ball high and long. A perfect spiral that seemed to hang in the air in slow motion as our wide receiver turned on the afterburners to catch up with the soaring football. The defender covering him lost a step, and then two. As the catch was made, the crowd roared. Another tackler from the far side brought him down. First down.
Our sophomore quarterback became a hero.
By the middle of the fourth quarter, the score was tied. By this time, the two sophomores QBs traded off plays… both showed unusual poise. With five minutes to go, the home team marched down to the goal line and scored. Then our kicker sealed the deal.
We were up seven points.
* * * * * * * *
One hundred years ago, women participated for the first time in the Olympic Games. As a tribute to female athletes, the Australian organizers of the XXVII Olympiad secretly selected seven women, six of them surviving gold medal winners including Betty Cuthbert (an Australian hero now in her sixties, struggling from a wheel chair, stricken with multiple sclerosis).
As the Torch entered the stadium, the capacity crowd of one hundred and ten thousand roared with delight, as each of the aging Olympians ran, and then hugged the next at the hand-off. Speculation ran high. Who would be the seventh? Who would be the one honored to light the Olympic Flame at that emotional high point of every opening ceremony – as in that magic moment in Atlanta when a quivering Mohammed Ali took the torch and ignited the cauldron in Atlanta?
Water ran down a wide aisle from the top of the stadium to the floor, backlit in various bright colors, tumbling down the steps and then running over a wide falls into a circular pool.
The spotlight illumined a young woman of color, wearing a tight white body suit, at that spot the sixth Olympian handed the torch and a warm embrace to an Australian Aborigine, Cathy Freeman.
The crowd exploded into a joyous frenzy. As the orchestra surged to a crescendo, Cathy, tears streaming down her cheeks, ran up the stairs and walked into the pool as water poured over the falls. At the center, she stopped. She held the torch high, and turned a full circle. Then, she lowered the torch to the water, and lit a circle of fire. Now surrounded by flame, she raised the torch once more and the crowd cheered its approval.
Then the magic began.
A wide disk, ET-like, slowly emerged from
the pool. The Aborigine runner,
perhaps the fastest woman in the world, stood statuesque as the massive saucer
rose out of the water, the circle of flame rising above her as she remained
stationary. As the platter rose,
with a hole at the center large enough to pass around Cathy Freeman, a
hydraulic arm appeared, raising the disk some thirty feet above the pool. Then, with Cathy and some one thousand athletes from two
hundred countries, over one hundred thousand other on-lookers from all over the
world in the stadium and perhaps more than a billion television viewers all
around the globe - all of them saluted the great burning cauldron as it rose
out of the water, and then magically journeyed up the steps through the
tumbling water to the top of the stadium.
From there it will burn day and night as a beacon of light for the duration of the games.
* * * * * * *
The opposing team that Friday night was favored to win.
As our Jaguars took the lead, you could feel the excitement all the way up the bleachers. Our two sophomore quarterbacks, Jason Dale and Pat Anabaldi (up from the JV team for the first time) led well – with poised, agile quickness and determination. The line gave them protection, and receivers pulled down their passes. The lead was not a fluke. It was a solid performance through three separate marches down the field – and up to the scoreboard. Our kicker performed brilliantly.
But with a minute forty-three seconds left, Cathedral City got one more possession. All that was left was to hold them. And we did. Until that fateful forth and eight when their quarterback found his receiver in first down territory. It was a clean strike.
With just seconds left, they scored once more, and then the two point conversion for a one point win at the sound of the gun… ending the game.
And in our hometown, the celebration turned to mourning.
But did our guys really lose? I don’t think so.
* * * * * * *
If you’ve been a leader very long, then you probably have a Comfort Zone.
You like the routines. The predictability. The control. You know what you need to do.
But occasionally, you find yourself outside the boundaries of your zone. Sometimes, not by choice.
Take it from an Aborigine and two sophomore quarterbacks; it’s scary out there. And in the early days, there are fumbles, and busted plays, and passes that miss the mark. There are political pressures, and misrepresentations and misunderstandings. And confrontations.
But all three will tell you, it’s well worth the risk.
It’s Monday morning. You may be outside that comfort zone because forces put you there that are well beyond your control. You may be facing one more Monday morning that looks exactly like a whole lot of other Monday mornings that have come and gone with monotonous regularity.
Either way, it’s OK. Get outside the boundaries of comfort. Go ahead and push the envelope. Take some risk. Take it a little farther than you thought you could.
Let the Olympic Flame light your way.
We’ll be cheering you on.
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2000
Special Thanks to my good friend David Belcher, owner of Rhino Media Group and creator of WisdomGram
LeaderFOCUS is a service of Good Stewardship Associates
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