Failure IS An Option
Defeat is not the worst of failures. Not to have tried is the true failure.
-George Edward Woodberry
When I was eleven years old, baseball was my life. I really, really loved it. I watched it constantly, listened to it when I couldn’t watch, thought about it, dreamed about it, lived it. If no one was available to play, I played by myself, throwing a ball up against the back of our house for hours. I pitched and played shortstop, but my love was being on the mound. I was pretty good at a very young age. I had my shutouts, a no-hitter or two, and once struck out nine batters in a row. Honestly, it was the first thing in my life I can remember being really good at and at the time, the only thing I wanted to do.
I remember many of my games, many of the moments within those games, but there is one that stands out above the rest. It wasn’t an extraordinary feat of mine, nor a great team victory (To be honest, the teams I played on mostly sucked. There weren’t a lot of victories to speak of). It was a game in which my hitting failed me completely, a game in which I struck out five times. Five times at bat, five whiffs.
Now I was not a great hitter. I wasn’t God-awful, I was decent, but I had no power, couldn’t really go the other way and didn’t drive in a lot of runs. But I got my share of hits and could be counted on to find a way to get on base. But on this day, on this day, I swung fifteen times, and missed.
After the fifth strikeout, being eleven after all, I sat on the bench and cried. I mean, what eleven year-old wouldn’t? My father, who was my coach, came over to the bench and hunched down in front of me. He put his hand under my chin and lifted my head up so he could look into my eyes. He asked me what was wrong.
“I’m a loser,” I told him. “I suck. I just struck out five times. I am the worst hitter on this team. In the world. Ever.”
He took this in for a few seconds. Probably thinking how he should respond. I know that if it was my kid, I would be very carefull in this spot.
“Did you try?” he asked. “Did you absolutely, positively give one hundred percent? Did you do everything in your power to hit that ball every time it came at you?”
Excuse me? What did he think I was some kind of fucking idiot?
“Of course I tried,” I said. “I gave TWO hundred percent! I tried really, REALLY hard!”
“Well,” he said. “If you really, really tried; if you truly gave two hundred percent like you said, then you are NOT a loser. You’re a failure.”
I learned a lot from my father that day although I didn’t know it at the time. Honestly, it took me years to realize what it was that he had taught me. Now, I have failed many, many times in my life at many, many things. I failed in business, I failed in school I ultimately failed at baseball, and I failed in love (before I met my wife, of course).
But if there is one thing I do not want to fail at, one thing where success means the most to me, it is being a father. I try hard, sometimes too hard. I have hiccups, missteps and make outright mistakes. I say things when I shouldn’t, and say nothing when I should. And believe me, all that will continue. But what I try to do is look for lessons in everyday things that I can teach all three of my children as well as myself. One of the most important of those lessons is that it is okay to fail. As my father said, if you try; if you give your all then failure is just a mistake that you learn from.
From the day they were born, every time one of my kids has said at one time or another, “I can’t.” My answer is always the same, “Try.” When they persist and still “can’t”, I urge them to try again. If, ultimately, they can’t do what ever it was they were trying, I will help (if I can). What father wouldn’t?
Although it may be heartbreaking for me to see them fail, to see them miss the mark now and then, I am comforted by the lessons they learn from their failure. As they get older, I have to stop helping as well. They must try, and fail, on their own. If they don’t the lesson would be relatively meaningless. I can teach them to find the silver lining, but they must find it on their own.
I look back on the myriad of failures in my own life and it’s not hard to see all those silver linings. If I hadn’t failed in business, I wouldn’t be in the job I have now which I truly love. If I hadn’t failed in school, I wouldn’t have recognized the value of hard work and all the rewards it can bring. If I hadn’t failed at love, I would never have met my amazing wife or had the three beautiful children I have been blessed with. You get the point, I’m sure. Failure has its place and it’s reasons. Without it, I wouldn’t be where I am today. And I might not be as happy either.
So what, then, is the real lesson? If you ask my father he will tell you that if you try, and fail, then you can be comforted by the sheer depth of your effort. If you ask George Edward Woodberry, the actual failure is to not have tried at all. And if you ask me, it is having the ability, at the end of the day to look at yourself in the mirror, and know deep in your heart that you are being the best that you can be. If that means a failure now and then, so be it. If that means learning from your mistakes, and not repeating them, then you are certainly better off for having made them.
My kids are young and they will fail many times in each of their futures. There is no greater joy than watching them use their own determination, their own willpower, and their own ingenuity to overcome an obstacle and ultimately succeed. When they do fail, I will hold them and let them cry. And when they succeed, I will celebrate with them. That’s what we parents do.
I tell my kids that they should do something with their lives that makes them happy. They should work hard and do their best. Live honestly and be generous. And don’t be afraid to fail.
Fortunately, none of them play baseball.
-George Edward Woodberry
When I was eleven years old, baseball was my life. I really, really loved it. I watched it constantly, listened to it when I couldn’t watch, thought about it, dreamed about it, lived it. If no one was available to play, I played by myself, throwing a ball up against the back of our house for hours. I pitched and played shortstop, but my love was being on the mound. I was pretty good at a very young age. I had my shutouts, a no-hitter or two, and once struck out nine batters in a row. Honestly, it was the first thing in my life I can remember being really good at and at the time, the only thing I wanted to do.
I remember many of my games, many of the moments within those games, but there is one that stands out above the rest. It wasn’t an extraordinary feat of mine, nor a great team victory (To be honest, the teams I played on mostly sucked. There weren’t a lot of victories to speak of). It was a game in which my hitting failed me completely, a game in which I struck out five times. Five times at bat, five whiffs.
Now I was not a great hitter. I wasn’t God-awful, I was decent, but I had no power, couldn’t really go the other way and didn’t drive in a lot of runs. But I got my share of hits and could be counted on to find a way to get on base. But on this day, on this day, I swung fifteen times, and missed.
After the fifth strikeout, being eleven after all, I sat on the bench and cried. I mean, what eleven year-old wouldn’t? My father, who was my coach, came over to the bench and hunched down in front of me. He put his hand under my chin and lifted my head up so he could look into my eyes. He asked me what was wrong.
“I’m a loser,” I told him. “I suck. I just struck out five times. I am the worst hitter on this team. In the world. Ever.”
He took this in for a few seconds. Probably thinking how he should respond. I know that if it was my kid, I would be very carefull in this spot.
“Did you try?” he asked. “Did you absolutely, positively give one hundred percent? Did you do everything in your power to hit that ball every time it came at you?”
Excuse me? What did he think I was some kind of fucking idiot?
“Of course I tried,” I said. “I gave TWO hundred percent! I tried really, REALLY hard!”
“Well,” he said. “If you really, really tried; if you truly gave two hundred percent like you said, then you are NOT a loser. You’re a failure.”
I learned a lot from my father that day although I didn’t know it at the time. Honestly, it took me years to realize what it was that he had taught me. Now, I have failed many, many times in my life at many, many things. I failed in business, I failed in school I ultimately failed at baseball, and I failed in love (before I met my wife, of course).
But if there is one thing I do not want to fail at, one thing where success means the most to me, it is being a father. I try hard, sometimes too hard. I have hiccups, missteps and make outright mistakes. I say things when I shouldn’t, and say nothing when I should. And believe me, all that will continue. But what I try to do is look for lessons in everyday things that I can teach all three of my children as well as myself. One of the most important of those lessons is that it is okay to fail. As my father said, if you try; if you give your all then failure is just a mistake that you learn from.
From the day they were born, every time one of my kids has said at one time or another, “I can’t.” My answer is always the same, “Try.” When they persist and still “can’t”, I urge them to try again. If, ultimately, they can’t do what ever it was they were trying, I will help (if I can). What father wouldn’t?
Although it may be heartbreaking for me to see them fail, to see them miss the mark now and then, I am comforted by the lessons they learn from their failure. As they get older, I have to stop helping as well. They must try, and fail, on their own. If they don’t the lesson would be relatively meaningless. I can teach them to find the silver lining, but they must find it on their own.
I look back on the myriad of failures in my own life and it’s not hard to see all those silver linings. If I hadn’t failed in business, I wouldn’t be in the job I have now which I truly love. If I hadn’t failed in school, I wouldn’t have recognized the value of hard work and all the rewards it can bring. If I hadn’t failed at love, I would never have met my amazing wife or had the three beautiful children I have been blessed with. You get the point, I’m sure. Failure has its place and it’s reasons. Without it, I wouldn’t be where I am today. And I might not be as happy either.
So what, then, is the real lesson? If you ask my father he will tell you that if you try, and fail, then you can be comforted by the sheer depth of your effort. If you ask George Edward Woodberry, the actual failure is to not have tried at all. And if you ask me, it is having the ability, at the end of the day to look at yourself in the mirror, and know deep in your heart that you are being the best that you can be. If that means a failure now and then, so be it. If that means learning from your mistakes, and not repeating them, then you are certainly better off for having made them.
My kids are young and they will fail many times in each of their futures. There is no greater joy than watching them use their own determination, their own willpower, and their own ingenuity to overcome an obstacle and ultimately succeed. When they do fail, I will hold them and let them cry. And when they succeed, I will celebrate with them. That’s what we parents do.
I tell my kids that they should do something with their lives that makes them happy. They should work hard and do their best. Live honestly and be generous. And don’t be afraid to fail.
Fortunately, none of them play baseball.
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