Nobody Said It Was Easy

About this time eight years ago, we were reading The Odyssey in English class. I think it was during those discussions that I learned the word "hubris." Words have character, and to me, this one is ugly. But in ancient Greece, hubris wasn't just ugly. It was illegal.

About this time one year ago, I was standing in front of my mirror practicing my first semester thesis presentation over and over. And over.

About this time two weeks ago, the arguable hubris of the Boston Celtics and the undeniable skill of a certain Russell Westbrook led the Oklahoma City Thunder to victory. This isn't the first time I've written a post involving overconfidence and the Celtics.

We've all experienced success in some form or another. From exceeding our own expectations to those of others. From avoiding to overcoming obstacles. And the sweet taste of it is unforgettable. We turn a blind eye to everything we did to get there, though. After all, "it was all worth it" in the end. It's when we fail (or "fail," like when you call a B+ failing) that every single moment of preparation (or lack thereof) rings loud and clear in our mind and memory. Feeling wronged, we think, I don't deserve this. With our rose-colored glasses, victory is easy. Success is a right.

At my piano studio, we were required to perform pieces from memory. No sheet music during recitals or tests. To prepare us, my piano teacher would assign us to memorize a piece weeks before it was to be performed.

Memorizing was woefully difficult for me. It would take me hours of practice and often require me to play isolated four-measure phrases repeatedly. At no point in my childhood or early adolescence did that process seem attractive. Frequently, I did what most stupid children do -- skipped the practice and walked into class hoping for the best. Whatever. I've memorized pieces before. I'm sure I've got this. In modern vernacular, you could say that week after week, I would just do it live. Or try, at least. Needless to say, the repercussions were disastrous. My piano teacher, sitting across the room with my notes and fuming with rage, would impatiently listen as I attempted to play a modern Gershwin masterpiece from my you know what. I guess sometimes you have to fall on that you know what to have some sense knocked into you.

Psychological theory explains performing under pressure in the following way: When you are already pretty good at something, you perform amazingly under pressure. But when you're not so good and the pressure kicks in, you completely tank. It suggests that practice, but not too much practice, makes perfect.

As a notion, beginner's luck seems wonderful. It's cool to be a natural star. But beginner's luck is just that. Luck. And rare. As blunt as it might sound, you can't just expect to hit the ball out of the park. This is especially applicable to me as I have never held a baseball bat.

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to hear a high school friend perform at a coffee shop. She was an amazing singer when I met her eight years ago and has only gotten better. And now she's "out there", trying to "make it big" in the music industry. When I was telling a coworker about her, he asked Well if she's good, it shouldn't be too difficult right? That's the thing, though. It's never easy. But that's what makes success even sweeter.

I like to win. And I'm a bit of a sore loser. But as I continue to grow up, I've learned that no matter how much you like to win, regardless of whether you usually win, you can never expect to win. It's as an announcer preached during that Thunder-Celtics game. You can't just show up and win. You gotta play the game.