On Creating Opportunity

The first time someone took a chance on me, I let the opportunity pass.

When I was in tenth grade, after moving from north central Ohio to The Middle of Nowhere, Virginia, I tried out for basketball. I didn’t do it because I had been a baller at my old school, but instead because I was six foot five and that’s what sixteen year-olds who are that tall do. I’d never played ball on a school team before, just shot around in the driveway with my brothers and friends and played in a couple of church youth leagues. I was, by all accounts, far from a jock.

But, sometime after I’d left my old school and started my new one, I woke up one morning and was taller than everyone else. All of my new classmates asked, almost immediately upon meeting me, if I played basketball. After I answered in the negative – saying instead that I was in the band – I was encouraged by most to try out.

On the day of the tryout, for some reason or another, I couldn’t find a ride to the school (forgive my shakiness on the details, it’s been a few years since I was 16). So when I got to work on a day that I had told my boss that I wouldn’t be there, he asked why I wasn’t at the tryouts. I explained to him my lack of transport and he – in his lovingly gruff way – said he’d take me.

I’d never tried out for anything before in my life. All of the sports I’d played to that point were of the “if you sign up in time you’re on the team” variety. I had no idea what to expect. But, I stood in the gym with everyone else, listened to the coaches, and ran through the drills as best I could. I didn’t wow anyone with my superior speed, footwork, or jumpshot, but I gave it my everything and, thankfully, was far from the worst guy on the floor.

A couple of days later when the results were posted, I was astounded to find my name on the list. I hadn’t been selected to be a player, but rather a student manager – basically a water/towel/ball boy that would hang out with the team at practice and go to all the games. I went to talk to the coach, as the sheet instructed, and he said that they liked what they saw in my hustle, heart, and brain, but that I was currently lacking the basketball skills they were looking for.

Coach went on to say that if I worked on my game (presumably with the team in practices and whatnot), and worked hard as manager that they would give me special consideration to be on the team as a player the next year. After giving his offer about nine seconds thought, I thanked him and respectfully declined. In my head, the value of being a towel boy with a shot at being on the team next year wasn’t worth the money I would lose by attending practices and games instead of working after school.

I sometimes think about that decision, and what things would have been like for the rest of high school had I accepted his offer. I would have made a lot of friends, instead of going through tenth grade all but alone as the new kid. I would have made my family – and my surly boss – proud by seeing it through. I would have moved to that small school in Kentucky (where if you sign up in time you’re on the team) a few months later with a better basketball skillset, meaning I probably would have gotten more playing time my during junior and senior years.

But instead I took the option with the most immediate payoff. How shortsighted I was (don’t get me wrong, that was an awesome job, and without it I probably wouldn’t be half the cook I am today – but that’s not the point).

As I think about the place in life that I currently find myself, and how I’m looking for someone to take a chance on me, this story seems pretty fitting. I’ve worked hard, that’s never been in doubt. I was taught to give everything to every endeavor. But I’ve also taken a lot of paths of immediate payoff. The first time that I think I ever worked hard to prove myself for a chance at something better was when I worked at Honeywell. I was placed there by a temp agency, but worked my butt off for a year proving myself until Honeywell supervisor hired me full time. Had I not loved that job though, I might not have done that. I can say with a lot of certainty that had a better offer come along during that first year I probably would have taken it.

But that experience, coupled with the one from my sophomore year of high school, has taught me an invaluable lesson: Sometimes (most of the time) when you want someone to take a chance, you have to first put in the work to prove that you won’t let them down.

I don’t know why it took nine-hundred words and almost thrity years for me to finally verbalize that, but it did. And it feels good. I promise, to myself and everyone who believes in me, that I won’t pass up a chance to work towards something great ever again.