What’s the difference between an athlete and an entrepreneur?
I’d just been cut by the late Tony Gwynn.
Well, that’s not entirely true... I was being relegated to a local junior college for the spring semester. This was more common than you might think. In my case, the guy I was recruited to replace had returned for his senior year and I hadn’t done enough to win the third base job. And, rather than spend another season as a role player, I would get my playing time at the NCAA’s equivalent of the minor leagues.
Only problem was, and this was a deal-breaker for a 19-year-old with an ego, I didn’t get along with my new coach. He was old school and I was more of the look good, play good type. He demanded hustle and I played with style.
Fortunately, my good friend was in a similar situation at the University of Maryland. And, given that it really didn’t matter where I played, so as long as I played, we hatched a plan to spend a season together at a junior college in southern New Jersey. We were going to rescue a team that had won just five games the year prior, and not enjoyed a winning season in school history.
For reasons I still don’t fully comprehend, my parents obliged. I found myself across the country in the dead of winter, wondering if the snow would ever dissipate long enough for us to get outside and play ball.
Rescue that team we did, falling just one game short of the Junior College World Series. I ranked in the top ten nationally in just about every statistical category. And as the wins and home runs kept piling up, so too did the offers from schools around the country. Suddenly, I had options and it seemed as if my San Diego to New Jersey gamble was paying off...
It wasn’t until the season ended, with just a couple of weeks remaining in the semester, that I was informed of the 4-2-4 rule. Essentially, the rule stated that, in order to transfer to any four-year school other than San Diego State University, I needed an associate’s degree.
Should have been a non-issue... maybe a bit of summer school, but I had completely omitted the student part of student-athlete. To the point where, on the day of the final exam, I asked my biology professor if I could take the midterm. And when she said yes, I asked her for a few days to study. My GPA that semester... a beyond anemic 0.8. I was twenty-three credits short.
Needless to say, I had dug my own grave. It seemed my remaining options were to return to San Diego State or spend another year in junior college. SDSU was certainly not a bad option... it was actually the plan all along. But that was before I’d had a glimpse of what could be with some of the top programs in the country. To make matters worse, I had torn my labrum and rotator cuff in the seventh game of the season, which meant I’d be having surgery that summer.
By the time I returned home and shared the specifics of my predicament with my parents, all but two of the offers had been rescinded. I was able to convince the coaches at Seton Hall University and George Mason University to have faith, that I would figure out a way to get my associate’s degree, have surgery, rehab and show up on the first day ready and able to contribute. I think Seton Hall coach Rob Shepard’s exact words were, “We’ll see what you’re made of, kid.”
Twenty-four credits meant eight classes at three different schools in three different states. I sat through biology, psychology and English literature at Pima Community College, and took the rest online or remotely. Twice that summer I hitched a ride with my high school baseball team to San Diego to take midterm and final exams at Grossmont College. Somehow I found the time around surgery, rehab and course work to serve as a volunteer assistant coach.
It’s like time slowed to a standstill for those three months. I’d passed seven courses so far and all that stood between me and ‘I told you so’ was a passing grade in sociology, an online course I was taking at Burlington County College.
The day after submitting my final paper, as we were packing for a family trip to Disneyland, I received a call from the professor. Despite having built a bit of rapport with her throughout the term, we had never actually spoken. And, given that she didn’t know the specifics of my situation, it didn’t make sense that this was a congratulatory call.
It wasn’t. I was being accused of plagiarism...
I pleaded my case, knowing sure well that I hadn’t plagiarized a damn sentence. I begged for a rewrite, even telling her I’d write an entirely new paper and have it for her on the other end of our eight-hour drive to Anaheim. No books or Internet or chance to plagiarize...
Seconds of silence that felt like an eternity. She finally agreed, empathizing with the desperation of my pleas. Ironically, she asked me to write an essay about judgement, using Jenga as an analogy for life.
From the backseat of a white Nissan Quest en route to Disneyland, I penned the best C+ worthy essay ever written. And that’s exactly what she gave me...
I couldn’t come up with anything when he asked me about the difference between an athlete and an entrepreneur. It was frustrating, being that I am... or have been both. The conversation moved on, but I couldn’t. The question lingered in my mind for days. Then it finally came to me...
Athletes work hard and (successful) entrepreneurs work smart. Athletes can outwork the competition; they know the exact skills required to be successful... practice makes perfect. A beautiful combination of work ethic and talent. Entrepreneurs on the other hand... I had been misinformed for years, confusing busy for productive. I’d show up first and leave last, fooled into thinking I could work and will my way to success.
You see, in sports, like school and most jobs, just about everything is defined. Do this well, or better than your competition, and you’ll win. You can work hard to get better. Want to improve your short game or learn how to hit a curveball? Practice. The problem is, these worlds are filled with impossibility. If you’re short and athletically-challenged, professional basketball is not in your future. No amount of work will change that.
Entrepreneurship is different though... a polar opposite in fact. Just about anything is possible, but almost nothing is defined. Yogi Berra said, “If you don’t know where you are going, you’ll end up someplace else.”