What was the score of the game?

50,000- 70,000 thoughts a day!

Researchers believe we have 50,000 to 70,000 thoughts in a day! So when I do the math based on the top end number of 70, 000 thoughts a day and my being 53 years of age, I have had approximately 1,354,150,000 thoughts in my lifetime and counting. WOW.

Now when you consider how much football I played in that time, isn’t it odd that I can’t remember the score of one game? I can remember Darren Joseph, Earl Winfield, Lonzell Hill, Scott Walker, John Hood, Wally Zatylny, Lee Knight, Richard Nurse, Dan Johnston and so many others like I met them yesterday, but scores of games? I got nothing.

It’s true. If you asked me the score of a game I played and I wouldn’t be able to offer an answer. Not one score, be it from a pre-season game, a regular season game or a playoff game. A tyke, mosquito, pee-wee, bantam, midget, junior, university or professional game.

It has nothing to do with my donating my brain to the Legacy program at Boston University, or at least I hope not. At the end of the day, I think it has to do with connections we have to others and drawing what was really important from our experiences. In sport, the final score is so black and white whereas, in life, the score is nuanced.

Fact is, in football, I could have played a great game and the team could still lose or I could have played like crap and the team could still win. The final score did not tell you the story.

Competition and Human Nature

Don’t get me wrong. In the moment, the final score was important because we are by nature, very competitive and there is a value placed on winning. Winning meant keeping my job.

In the pros, winning meant making more money and being able to pay the bills and taking care of myself. It also enhanced my social status and to be frank, from an ego standpoint, I loved the idea of walking into an arena of competition like a gladiator and being envied by the audience. Doing something special that very few others could do was kind of cool.

The ability to compete is directly linked to our ability to survive. Competition is one of the most basic functions of nature and will forever remain a powerful instinctual driver in human nature. There is no chance at all of evading this instinct.

In my mind, the reason why I don’t remember the score of games is directly connected to learning that the most important tally wasn’t on the scoreboard but rather in the dressing room when I looked my teammates and coaches in the eye.

Did I do my job?

Did I compete like my life depended on it?

Did I have my teammates back?

Did I honor the pact I made with my teammates?

Did I keep my promise?

If I answered yes, then I earned their respect, I respected the game and I slept well at night. I always looked forward to watching the game film when I played well and always hated it when I played like crap. Like they say…”the eye in the sky don’t lie”.

Honorable Bank Robbers

One of my favorite movies ever is Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid starring Paul Newman and Robert Redford. The story focuses on the friendship between two men who just happened to be bank robbers. It was about the trust, honesty and commitment that they shared in a very unpredictable environment. Their success hinged on their ability to keep it personal and to draw strength knowing the other would be there through thick or thin.

The end game wasn’t about how much money they took but rather about their belief in the journey they chose to share.

When I work with coaches or athletes, I always ask this question.

“What do you want from your experience?”.

They all want to win. They want a ring and a trophy. Many coaches will say, I want to be a game changer…a difference maker.

Then I ask them to think beyond the scoreboard. What do they want to accomplish beyond the final score?  There is usually a pause followed by a vague answer that they hope lands close to the target.

That is when the real coaching work takes place and it is in that moment that I tell them to forget the trophy because it collects dust.

That they will only wear the ring when they are trying to impress.

Forget the team jacket, it won’t fit in 5 years.

I tell them the real victory could arrive well beyond the completion of the season.

I ask them to visualize being out front of the grocery store 5 years down the road.

The coach sees his former player or vice versa. How do they visualize that moment? What is the preferred outcome?

Does the coach or kid stop and take the time to say hi? Do they reminisce? Share a memory? Do they pretend to not see each other? Do they turn in a different direction?

Great memories are personal. They extend from a genuine place. Despite competing in the very alpha male world of football, my ability to care for others was the only score that counted.

Ken Evraire is an outside of the box team builder, leadership and coaching consultant who now aspires to become a documentary producer! Stay tuned!

Ken can be reached at ken@kenevraire.com.