Driven

I have been driven since the days of my youth.

I have always subscribed to the idea of passion.

The things that I was passionate about, I gave my life and soul to them. The things that I wasn’t, I let them rot on the living room table.

I loved the idea of learning. But I hated the idea of tests. I was once told that the SAT was a measure of intelligence. This thought so aggravated me, that when I took the SAT I haphazardly circled in the bubbles and turned it in. I couldn’t have cared less.

I scored 780. Total. One of the proudest days of my life.

I wanted to go to medical school, so I had to go to college. I wanted to go to a small college (I don’t like crowds). So I picked what is arguably one of the finest small universities in Texas and decided I was going to go there. But I had made a 780. So I called the admissions director and said to him, “All you have to do is grant me an interview. If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll leave of my own accord.”

After the interview, he said to me, “I’ve been doing this for over 25 years. The answers you have given to me are answers that I have never heard in my life. I am going to call the admissions committee and personally recommend that you be accepted into this university.”

(I can’t just get somewhere. I have to get there MY WAY!)

In a recent conversation with my younger son, he said some things that intrigued me. And they made me evaluate further the idea of passion.

For years, I have trained my boys in an obsessive siege. Sub-freezing temperatures in which they could not feel their fingers (and I couldn’t feel my toes). The dark of night, in which they had to rely upon their senses other than sight. In pouring rain in which they were required to “become one with the rain” to the point at which they no longer felt wet. Training on the golf course as it was hailing, then retreating to the car for a few minutes because the hail began to hurt us.

Tournaments around the world.

An obsession with World Number 1.

Recently, I had a long talk with my younger one. We spoke of passion.

This is what he said,

“I don’t really know how much I like golf. But I know I was meant to be a professional golfer.”

I asked him to explain.

He said, “I really only like it when I’m winning.”

This was a surprise to me. As in my house I’ve always downplayed the idea of “winning vs losing.” I never use the words “beat” or “compete” or “win.”

I asked him to speak further.

He said, “Golf is fine. But it doesn’t really matter how much I like it or not. But I can’t do anything else.”

I said, “Of course, you can. I’ve always told you that you can become whatever you want. And that if you ever chose a career because of Me, it would be a waste. It has to be what You like. It has to be Your choice. But whatever it is, you Will be world class.”

He said, “I’m not doing it for you. Inside me, I can just feel it. I don’t have a choice. Not because of you. I have no choice because inside of me I just know I was meant to be a professional golfer on the PGA Tour. There’s nothing else I could ever do.”

I’m not sure if he was influenced by reading Andre Agassi’s book, Open. Which I recommended to both of them.

But he made me evaluate the necessity of passion.

Recently, one of the greatest Nascar drivers in history said, “I don’t really like what I do. And I can’t wait to quit. But it’s what I do.”

I’ve always been something of an idealist.

But I’ve learned over time that The Truth is much more sloppy and haphazard than we think.

My youngest had success at a very early age.

He won all 3 stages of the Drive, Chip, and Putt and advanced to the finals at Augusta National the Sunday before the 2015 Masters tournament.

He’s been in newspapers, on live television, spoken with reporters, won major events by a landslide.

And he’s never been a grinder.

He’s sort of “felt” his way around things. He’s never really taken to the idea of “instruction.” He doesn’t know “how” he does anything. And becomes irritated if you ask him to explain how he does it.

He’s sponsored by Nike and Taylormade. He has college coaches following him and contacting him.

At the age of 13.

I’ll never forget at the age of 5, while standing on a downhill par 4 with a bunker short and water long, he stood over the ball and evaluated the situation. At the age of 5, we hadn’t calculated how far he hit his clubs. But after evaluating the situation he said to me, “This feels like a choke-down 9-iron.”

I assure you, That wasn’t Taught.

I’ve been thinking about what he said in our long conversation. In fact, I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind.

If we look at things simply, Becoming World Class is about how skilled you are.

And if one is naturally talented at something that he likes, versus if he isn’t as talented at something that he really loves, the former grants him a life of success and comfort, while the latter grants him a life of struggle.

Interestingly, I know for a fact that many professional athletes who are great at their sport don’t particularly “love” what they do. In teaching them, listening to them, and being involved in intimate locker room conversations far from the peering eyes of the media, such things are indeed spoken.

Perhaps passion is overrated. Perhaps it is idealistic.

If someone hates something, they are not likely to go the extra mile it takes to become World Class.

But if someone “likes it enough,” and along with this they have a talent for it, then perhaps “passion” isn’t required.

Perhaps it is a marriage of thresholds. A critical minimum of “liking,” coupled with a critical minimum of talent.

There are many people who have talent but go nowhere.

There are many people who have Passion without talent but go nowhere.

I used to argue that “drive” trumps talent any day of the week. I stand by that. If someone is sufficiently driven, they will do whatever it takes to get what they want.

This is a certainty.

But that question doesn’t interest me as much. What interests me more is Doing The Least, while Getting The Most.

THAT is what I’m driven by.

You see, hard work is largely an anxiety. It is an adherence to a societal tenet. It is work for work’s sake.

Understand this Truth: The reason it takes 15 years to become World Class at something is because for 14 of those years you were doing it all wrong.

But if a person could know Exactly and Precisely the things to know, and discard all the rest, he could become World Class in a year!

This is the power of The Truth.

I believe in Nothing.

My Truth comes from Direct Experimentation. Direct Perception. Testing. Evaluation. And Maniacal Exploration.

And most of all, asking the sort of questions that would make people roll on the ground laughing.

Asking the sort of questions that make my brain roll over on its side.

I’m not even certain the Sun rises in the East. I’ll have to examine this for myself.

Why?

Because I learned long ago that human beings are lazy and uninspiring creatures. They rehash the derivative. They propagate the commonplace. And they have Zero interest in The Truth. This is why I have a visceral disdain and rampant disrespect for Society and The Masses. To me, they are Sub-human. They are filler. They are a waste of precious Oxygen.

The ones who give their life for the Truth are the only ones that interest me. And I will test what they say before I accept a word.

What if passion didn’t mean anything?

What if one could become World Class in a month?

What if I could never have another involuntary thought until the day I die?

What if “effort” was a complete myth (by the way, it is).

The title of a discourse I wrote years ago comes to mind, “What If Everything You’ve Ever Been Told Was Wrong?”

Everything . . . and I mean Everything . . . has a Truth.

And for as long as there is breath in my lungs, this is what I am Driven to find.

(More than any other human being on the planet).

Namaste.