"Why would anyone do that?"
I've heard that more than once. Watching one guy pound another guy inside that octagon begs that question. Yet, I've never asked it. Even when it's a one sided affair and the loser looks like he was in a bad car accident (and probably hurts more than if he actually was). Even when there's an injury.
I don't have to ask. I know why.
I quit my job yesterday. Just for context, I loved my job. I enjoyed working with people, helping them find their dream home. I think Lennar is a good company, and, as best they can, care about their employees. I loved my boss. I thought he was smart and did a lot of things right.
So why did I quit?
When I was a kid, I used to wrestle. In high school, I wasn't necessarily good, but I wasn't bad either. I won most of the matches I was supposed to win, and I lost most of the matches I should've lost. And most of the time this was pre-determined before I went on the mat.
It wasn't set-up or anything, I just pre-determined it. Usually, when I went up against an opponent with a good record that I knew, ultimately, no matter how hard I tried, I would probably be defeated. Mostly because he was a better wrestler than me. So, when those times came, I usually didn't try very hard. I made it look good, but I was defeated before I went out there. That might sound strange, but it was an ego saver for me.
You see, by not trying, I didn't really feel like I'd lost. By not giving my all, I wasn't putting myself out there. In the back of my mind I could say, "well, I didn't really lose because I didn't really try. Who knows how I would've done if I'd tried."
I continued this attitude through most of my life. Things I should succeed at, I did. And things I would have to work hard to succeed at, I didn't try very hard, so if it failed, I didn't feel like it was really me who failed.
Theodore Roosevelt was quite a president. He was the first vice president to succeed a president who died (McKinley) and actually get re-elected. He was the first president to invite a black person to dine at the White House. He was the first president to officially call the White House "The White House". He was the first American to be awarded a Nobel Prize. He is the only president to be awarded a Medal of Honor. He's also the reason I quit.
There is a quote of his that I've committed to memory. It goes like this:
"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."
When I was in fifth grade, I wrestled for the junior high team. I was too young to have an ego, and as it was my first year of really competitive wrestling, I didn't know if I was any good or not. We entered a four-team tournament at the end of the year. As it turned out, I was ranked third (out of four). But, the second ranked kid couldn't make weight, and I suddenly found myself in the championship match against the number one ranked kid in my weight class. Well the match starts and I find myself on my back. I struggle and strain and somehow make it out of the first period. The second period was more of the same. I find myself in danger of being technically pinned by losing by more than 15 points.
The third period starts and he's controlling the match. Now, don't get me wrong, this kids is a better athlete than me. The fact that these people exist is a reality my life that hasn't escaped my knowledge. But something in me decided I wasn't ready to lose. Something snapped inside and I went after him. I got him in a headlock and squeezed as hard as I could. With about 8 seconds left in the match I pinned him.
I was a the champion. I was the only kid on my team that year to win a championship. I put myself out there and won. I strove valiantly. I knew victory.
I think there is something in a man that identifies with that. It's the reason the UFC is the fastest growing sport among men ages 18-40. It's the reason my brother-in-law is joining the Air Force in his thirties. It's the reason I envy him. And it's the reason I going out on my own.
I am entering a very competitive arena. If I succeed, it will be because of me. And if I fail, it will be because of me. Much like Cortez, I am burning the ships and not looking back.
"Why would anyone do that?"
If you have to ask, no explanation will do.
The critic line begins to your left.
