Maybe you’ve seen the Michael J. Fox movie “Secret of my Success.” It was a little comedy flick that came out way back in 1987. The premise of the movie was that Michael J. Fox’s character (Brantley Foster) was a lowly mailroom employee trying to “make it big” in New York City. He begins to ascend up the corporate ladder by pretending to be a high-level executive. A series of lightning-fast wardrobe changes and classic Michael J. Fox on-the-spot improvisation leads to his eventual transition into a successful businessman.
This movie got me thinking about success-not only in business, but in life, love, and most importantly sports.
What is success? Maybe it’s like Michael J. Fox teaches us-a state of mind. Maybe it’s telling ourselves that we are successful. Maybe it’s happiness, and maybe it’s wealth. It all depends on your personal point of view and professional frame of reference.
In sports, however, more often than not, the everlasting judgment of an athlete’s career comes down to one thing-championships. Did a guy win championships?
They don’t ask whether or not he toiled his butt off for 15 years against the most intense competition that exists anywhere in the world at a level achieved by less than five percent of his peers. They don’t ask if he turned around a franchise or a city. Who cares if he loved the game that he gave his life to? But instead, was he at the right place at the right time? Did the ball bounce the way it was supposed to bounce? Did Bill Buckner remember to put his glove all the way down?
To me, it’s a little bit like the billiards game 8-ball. You can dominate someone for an entire game (hours if you’re really bad), sink all but one of your balls long before your opponent, and then accidentally sink that pesky eight ball at the end and lose the whole game. An entire body of work forgotten. Dems da rules.
But is it really fair? I mean, you were golden all along. Dominant-but it just happened to fall apart at the end. Who would want to be judged by such standards? Try all professional athletes.
To me it’s a shame to look at players like Karl Malone, Charles Barkley, Patrick Ewing, Dan Marino, Barry Sanders, Cris Carter, Ken Griffey, Jr., Sammy Sosa, and even Barry Bonds-players that never have, and probably never will, win a championship in their distinguished careers. Those in the sports community will always refer to them as “never able to win the big one.”
No one can doubt the merits of their playing careers. Their numbers are set in stone. But when pundits rant and rave about the best of all time, it seems it will always come down to, “Yeah, but he never won the championship.”
Does it push Emmitt over Barry? Does it push Elway over Marino? David Robinson past Karl Malone? Though the numbers don’t always back it up, will being on the right team at the right time (or not) seal the legacies of these legends?
Which raises an entirely different kind of question. What about the lucky players? Is Robert Horry five times greater than Chris Webber? Is Derek Jeter four times the man of Nomar or ARod? Will the careers of Jeter and the like receive the seal of approval in the minds of fans and historians long before those of their less jewelry-laden brothers?
As if the aura of winning a championship weren’t already blown enough out of proportion, in recent years, free agency (and more closely free-spending general managers) has created the concept of the hired gun. A few examples? How about Jason Giambi, Ray Borque and just about any member of last year’s Detroit Red Wings. These are players rescued from clubs that don’t have a shot of winning, and plunked right into the heat of a playoff race. If they’re lucky, these stars-for-lease walk away hoisting a trophy, confident that their careers are finally complete.
But what joy in jumping ship? I find it far more respectable when a player sticks to his roots, or at least plays for a team for several consecutive seasons. Then, when the team becomes good it is because of him, not because he was the final piece in a multi-million dollar jigsaw puzzle.
I MEAN SERIOUSLY! HOW CAN ANYONE BE A YANKEES OR RED WINGS FAN?
But I digress… with the value of a championship degraded by the high liquidity of today’s free agent markets and the fortunate situations that some players are lucky enough to be born into, I believe “winning the big one” is somewhat overrated.
Don’t get me wrong, if you choke in every big playoff game… ehemm… Biggio… Bagwell… then some criticism is merited, but taking a team to the playoffs consecutively for a decade and always being among the league leaders in your respective field? Come on, that’s enough for greatness, baby.
It’s a team sport, and there’s only so much that one man can control (unless your name is MJ). Sports, like life, are all about the journey and not the destination… even though it may be nice if you do finally get there.
So what if you accidentally sink the eight ball?