| SpongeOsophy Essay |
| All the world is a "Stage" Steps to chasing "impossible dreams" |
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Remember the dreams you had when you were young? Remember the things you
wanted to be when you grew up? Remember imagining doing something wonderful,
even if those around you thought it was a silly idea? As we get older we tend to lose
sight of those dreams. As I have said in my post about regret, not chasing dreams can
become a nightmare, for regret is a dangerous emotion.
When I was four I dreamed of being a professional bowler. Of course my first season of
league bowling my average was only 43. Yet I dreamed of some day bowling on TV
and being as good as the guys I saw on television. I could have looked at the lofty,
grandiose dream in comparison to my average at the time and just quit, yet you all who
are my regular readers know that simply is not my style. I improved every year until I
left for college in 1984, averaging 199 in the days of even lane oil and plastic bowling
balls.
Fate stepped in and due to illness I could not bowl again until 13 years later. See, after
my 6th operation and my first wife left I took a break from reality and spent 10 days in a
mental hospital. I wanted to just die since the doctor told me my prognosis was grim
and ugly. One day in group therapy we were told to make a list of 10 things we had
always wanted to do but hadn’t done as of yet-things which were easily done. The idea
of this was to make us feel better and give us some direction.
As I sat there making that list the dreams of a four year-old boy came back to me
again. Could I possibly ever get to be a professional bowler with my health? And doing
this would take years, and according to some doctors I didn’t have those years. Did I
even have the strength to bowl again? Well, the list was made and the 11th item on it
was to qualify for the PBA Tour.
Once I was strong enough to bowl again I dusted off the shoes and joined a league in
1997. My first season back my average was a whopping 163. Now I knew I needed to
average 200 or better for two consecutive winter seasons to qualify, so I knew I had a
very long way to go before I qualified. I could have compared where I was with what I
wanted and quit, but I didn’t. Instead I set the goal for myself of improving my average
12 pins over the next year. That was my focus-just those 12 pins. Then I broke this
goal down into the steps I needed to get those 12 pins: strength training, kicking
painkillers, better bowling equipment, speed control. I took each of these tasks one by
one. The next year I improved 15 pins.
See we can either see life as a marathon or as a rally race. In a marathon all you focus
on is the end, which seems so very far away. In a rally race you focus on where you
want to be at each leg of the journey-what place you want to be in. That stage
planning becomes your strategy for winning the rally, but you only focus on one stage
at a time. I am sure that when Lance Armstrong sets out to win the Tour de France he
doesn’t just think about winning; he plans each leg of the Tour and what he has to do
to be the winner in the long run. I am sure that when he doesn’t reach a goal on a leg
he thinks about what he has to do to be better in the next leg.
I did the same thing with my bowling. One goal at a time. One frame at a time. When
my body would want to give out, all I focused on was that one more frame. If I could just
do that, then worry about the rest after that. It took me from 1997 to 2004 to qualify for
the PBA Tour. In that time I had two more surgeries and my new wife Raine went into a
coma for 5 weeks. Still, I never lost sight of that dream.
One thing that kept me focused on the task at hand was the readings of a hero from my
youth, the man once known as “Ultimate Warrior” but was simply now known only as
Warrior (his full legal name). I read his website, www.ultimatewarrior.com and took so
much from it. I discovered that the muscle-headed wrestler had a way of showing us
the power that lies buried deep within each of us. I remember reading about how he
was voted least likely to succeed in his school class, how his guidance counselor told
him he didn’t have the brains for college and he should just get a factory job. Warrior’s
attitude was, “I’ll show you.” On the occasions that I would let others know of my
bowling dreams, they would tell me how I was just wasting my time and I should just sit
back and collect my disability check. But when their voices got too loud I would come
back to read the teachings of Warrior, the man. Week after week I found something
there to draw power from, or rather, a lesson on how to draw that power from within
ME. My attitude became, “Oh yeah, I’ll show you.” I used their ridicule to light the fire in
my belly. Their snickers simply added fuel to the fire. Warrior and I would exchange e-
mail from time to time and he would tell me how I inspired him. We became, for lack of
a better word, pen-pals. When Raine went into the coma in 2003 I learned that the big
brute muscle man also had a very big heart.
About a year ago I was so very close to qualifying, but my average was starting to slip.
The Crohn’s disease decided to hit me very hard with just a few weeks to go in my
second season of qualifying. I had to get 66 games in with the 200 average to make it.
I was averaging 199.5 last March, and I didn’t have enough games in.
I was so very angry. Here I was so close to the goal of qualifying and my body was
failing me once again. I had the choice of not bowling and letting my body rest-which
meant not qualifying for at least two more years-or sucking it up and giving it my all to
make it happen NOW.
In the midst of all of this my beloved Raine sent Warrior an email and let him know what
was going on. I remember pooping in my pants when the phone rang and it was
Warrior on the other end of the phone. He and I talked for about half an hour and he
gave me the motivation I needed to try to bowl the next week, the next game, and the
one more frame. Heck, Warrior believed in me, so should I! Always believe, as he
says. The next three weeks my average for those weeks was in the 220s, even with the
pain I was in. I raised my average enough to qualify. Success!
I could have easily let it end there. One thing I have learned over the years is that as
long as you have a goal, you have a purpose. So I set my sights on the brass ring. Of
course, my calling in life is to inspire the sick, and bowling professionally on television
would give hope to so very many.
Okay, what was the next goal? I didn’t find out until a short time ago what the next
stage of the race is. I thought that I needed to get exposure for my cause. Exposure
would inspire those I wanted to reach. Exposure would also perhaps get me a sponsor
so that I could raise the roughly $20,000 I needed to bowl each year. Raine and I sent
packets to every media outlet we could think of, as well as every business in town.
Warrior even made some phone calls. I had bowled in two tournaments as a
professional at that point, and while my showing was below par, I thought that just
bowling was enough to BE that inspiration.
I was wrong.
Warrior slapped me in the face with some cold hard truth. He was going to come to
Indianapolis for my first national event and be my ball caddie. The idea was this would
get me some media exposure and everything would fall into place. Then came the
truth. While individuals may think my cause is noble and that I am doing some good
work, corporations, the media and organizations don’t give a healthy poop about all of
that. Unless they have a profit incentive to help, I shouldn’t waste my time. They spend
more on copy paper than it would cost to sponsor me, but still, altruism is dead in
corporate America. When the marketing company called me about doing the
commercials for their medicine, I thought I had found my sponsor. But when I told them
I wanted sponsorship in return for doing their commercials, the phone stopped ringing
and emails went unanswered. Warrior said this plain fact. If I want to do this, I have to
win some of these tournaments. I can’t go out and have fun. I have to go out there
mean and hungry and “rip fresh ass“, as he puts it.
So for the next while I don’t give a rip about exposure or sponsors. When I tear some
people up in these tourneys, the exposure will come, but then my price will be a bit
higher. Right now I have the hawk’s singularity of purpose - the hunger for the kill.
I will not be wasting my time trying to get exposure anymore. My next goal towards the
big dream is to win a regional title. But the leg of the race to get there is to cash in a
tournament first. So for this coming regional season, I will be scraping together my
pennies and bowl as many tournaments as I can to get that first check. After that the
goal will be to make match play finals, then eventually to win. After that, who knows?
But, right now, the foke is on getting that first cash. As far as bowling goals, that is all I
care about. Oh, this will also give me more time to concentrate on the website, which is
what I was called to do in this life-be the inspiration.
Try to look at your own dreams. Do they seem too grandiose to you? Do they seem to
out of reach? Trust me on this. Break that dream down into stages. Focus on the next
stage ONLY. When you get to that stage, celebrate that victory. Each step you take
will be a sweet motivation to take the next step. You can look at your previous success
and say, “Wow, look what I did!” This will give you the confidence you need to take the
next step.
Trust me, this system will work if you focus on the next stage of the journey. If it didn’t I
would have walked away after my first gutter ball back in 1970. When I fell over after my
first attempt to rise out of the hospital bed I could have laid back down and said, “I will
never bowl again.” No, I focused on taking just one step. Now, I have the strength to
bowl that “One More Frame.”
Be well,
Sponge
03/08/2005
wanted to be when you grew up? Remember imagining doing something wonderful,
even if those around you thought it was a silly idea? As we get older we tend to lose
sight of those dreams. As I have said in my post about regret, not chasing dreams can
become a nightmare, for regret is a dangerous emotion.
When I was four I dreamed of being a professional bowler. Of course my first season of
league bowling my average was only 43. Yet I dreamed of some day bowling on TV
and being as good as the guys I saw on television. I could have looked at the lofty,
grandiose dream in comparison to my average at the time and just quit, yet you all who
are my regular readers know that simply is not my style. I improved every year until I
left for college in 1984, averaging 199 in the days of even lane oil and plastic bowling
balls.
Fate stepped in and due to illness I could not bowl again until 13 years later. See, after
my 6th operation and my first wife left I took a break from reality and spent 10 days in a
mental hospital. I wanted to just die since the doctor told me my prognosis was grim
and ugly. One day in group therapy we were told to make a list of 10 things we had
always wanted to do but hadn’t done as of yet-things which were easily done. The idea
of this was to make us feel better and give us some direction.
As I sat there making that list the dreams of a four year-old boy came back to me
again. Could I possibly ever get to be a professional bowler with my health? And doing
this would take years, and according to some doctors I didn’t have those years. Did I
even have the strength to bowl again? Well, the list was made and the 11th item on it
was to qualify for the PBA Tour.
Once I was strong enough to bowl again I dusted off the shoes and joined a league in
1997. My first season back my average was a whopping 163. Now I knew I needed to
average 200 or better for two consecutive winter seasons to qualify, so I knew I had a
very long way to go before I qualified. I could have compared where I was with what I
wanted and quit, but I didn’t. Instead I set the goal for myself of improving my average
12 pins over the next year. That was my focus-just those 12 pins. Then I broke this
goal down into the steps I needed to get those 12 pins: strength training, kicking
painkillers, better bowling equipment, speed control. I took each of these tasks one by
one. The next year I improved 15 pins.
See we can either see life as a marathon or as a rally race. In a marathon all you focus
on is the end, which seems so very far away. In a rally race you focus on where you
want to be at each leg of the journey-what place you want to be in. That stage
planning becomes your strategy for winning the rally, but you only focus on one stage
at a time. I am sure that when Lance Armstrong sets out to win the Tour de France he
doesn’t just think about winning; he plans each leg of the Tour and what he has to do
to be the winner in the long run. I am sure that when he doesn’t reach a goal on a leg
he thinks about what he has to do to be better in the next leg.
I did the same thing with my bowling. One goal at a time. One frame at a time. When
my body would want to give out, all I focused on was that one more frame. If I could just
do that, then worry about the rest after that. It took me from 1997 to 2004 to qualify for
the PBA Tour. In that time I had two more surgeries and my new wife Raine went into a
coma for 5 weeks. Still, I never lost sight of that dream.
One thing that kept me focused on the task at hand was the readings of a hero from my
youth, the man once known as “Ultimate Warrior” but was simply now known only as
Warrior (his full legal name). I read his website, www.ultimatewarrior.com and took so
much from it. I discovered that the muscle-headed wrestler had a way of showing us
the power that lies buried deep within each of us. I remember reading about how he
was voted least likely to succeed in his school class, how his guidance counselor told
him he didn’t have the brains for college and he should just get a factory job. Warrior’s
attitude was, “I’ll show you.” On the occasions that I would let others know of my
bowling dreams, they would tell me how I was just wasting my time and I should just sit
back and collect my disability check. But when their voices got too loud I would come
back to read the teachings of Warrior, the man. Week after week I found something
there to draw power from, or rather, a lesson on how to draw that power from within
ME. My attitude became, “Oh yeah, I’ll show you.” I used their ridicule to light the fire in
my belly. Their snickers simply added fuel to the fire. Warrior and I would exchange e-
mail from time to time and he would tell me how I inspired him. We became, for lack of
a better word, pen-pals. When Raine went into the coma in 2003 I learned that the big
brute muscle man also had a very big heart.
About a year ago I was so very close to qualifying, but my average was starting to slip.
The Crohn’s disease decided to hit me very hard with just a few weeks to go in my
second season of qualifying. I had to get 66 games in with the 200 average to make it.
I was averaging 199.5 last March, and I didn’t have enough games in.
I was so very angry. Here I was so close to the goal of qualifying and my body was
failing me once again. I had the choice of not bowling and letting my body rest-which
meant not qualifying for at least two more years-or sucking it up and giving it my all to
make it happen NOW.
In the midst of all of this my beloved Raine sent Warrior an email and let him know what
was going on. I remember pooping in my pants when the phone rang and it was
Warrior on the other end of the phone. He and I talked for about half an hour and he
gave me the motivation I needed to try to bowl the next week, the next game, and the
one more frame. Heck, Warrior believed in me, so should I! Always believe, as he
says. The next three weeks my average for those weeks was in the 220s, even with the
pain I was in. I raised my average enough to qualify. Success!
I could have easily let it end there. One thing I have learned over the years is that as
long as you have a goal, you have a purpose. So I set my sights on the brass ring. Of
course, my calling in life is to inspire the sick, and bowling professionally on television
would give hope to so very many.
Okay, what was the next goal? I didn’t find out until a short time ago what the next
stage of the race is. I thought that I needed to get exposure for my cause. Exposure
would inspire those I wanted to reach. Exposure would also perhaps get me a sponsor
so that I could raise the roughly $20,000 I needed to bowl each year. Raine and I sent
packets to every media outlet we could think of, as well as every business in town.
Warrior even made some phone calls. I had bowled in two tournaments as a
professional at that point, and while my showing was below par, I thought that just
bowling was enough to BE that inspiration.
I was wrong.
Warrior slapped me in the face with some cold hard truth. He was going to come to
Indianapolis for my first national event and be my ball caddie. The idea was this would
get me some media exposure and everything would fall into place. Then came the
truth. While individuals may think my cause is noble and that I am doing some good
work, corporations, the media and organizations don’t give a healthy poop about all of
that. Unless they have a profit incentive to help, I shouldn’t waste my time. They spend
more on copy paper than it would cost to sponsor me, but still, altruism is dead in
corporate America. When the marketing company called me about doing the
commercials for their medicine, I thought I had found my sponsor. But when I told them
I wanted sponsorship in return for doing their commercials, the phone stopped ringing
and emails went unanswered. Warrior said this plain fact. If I want to do this, I have to
win some of these tournaments. I can’t go out and have fun. I have to go out there
mean and hungry and “rip fresh ass“, as he puts it.
So for the next while I don’t give a rip about exposure or sponsors. When I tear some
people up in these tourneys, the exposure will come, but then my price will be a bit
higher. Right now I have the hawk’s singularity of purpose - the hunger for the kill.
I will not be wasting my time trying to get exposure anymore. My next goal towards the
big dream is to win a regional title. But the leg of the race to get there is to cash in a
tournament first. So for this coming regional season, I will be scraping together my
pennies and bowl as many tournaments as I can to get that first check. After that the
goal will be to make match play finals, then eventually to win. After that, who knows?
But, right now, the foke is on getting that first cash. As far as bowling goals, that is all I
care about. Oh, this will also give me more time to concentrate on the website, which is
what I was called to do in this life-be the inspiration.
Try to look at your own dreams. Do they seem too grandiose to you? Do they seem to
out of reach? Trust me on this. Break that dream down into stages. Focus on the next
stage ONLY. When you get to that stage, celebrate that victory. Each step you take
will be a sweet motivation to take the next step. You can look at your previous success
and say, “Wow, look what I did!” This will give you the confidence you need to take the
next step.
Trust me, this system will work if you focus on the next stage of the journey. If it didn’t I
would have walked away after my first gutter ball back in 1970. When I fell over after my
first attempt to rise out of the hospital bed I could have laid back down and said, “I will
never bowl again.” No, I focused on taking just one step. Now, I have the strength to
bowl that “One More Frame.”
Be well,
Sponge
03/08/2005