Photo Credit: © Can Stock Photo Inc. / krimchak
When my eldest son was only 5 years old, it was clear he was a gifted athlete. He averaged two “home runs” per T-ball game, and as he grew into “pitched” leagues, he showed even greater prowess. By the end of elementary school, there wasn’t a ball made that he couldn’t kick, pass, throw, hit, or run with as well or better than almost anyone his age. People sitting with us in the stands began to talk about his likelihood for a football scholarship and college “offers,” and we became caught up in it too; many of you probably recall my animated articles from that time. Indeed, my son did earn a college scholarship and performed well. But at the end of freshman year, he came to me and confessed he had grown tired of football. He terminated his scholarship, changed colleges, and went in an entirely different direction. Both of us took it in stride and, indeed, many lessons were learned.
A Snooze On The Skill Meter
One lesson in particular came to me late. While marketing my son’s skills to coaches and other evaluators for college consideration, I noticed no one was as excited as I was. I would be showing pieces of film, keyed up over my son’s unique skills and abilities, and the coaches would nod and smile and quietly jot notes, but nobody seemed overly impressed. I finally figured out why—they had seen it all before. Their excitement had been replaced by a malaise of lowered expectations.
Year after year, these coaches and evaluators put various prospects through the tests and sometimes a true gem was found, a gifted athlete far and above the rest. But how seldom do we hear about any of those high-school prodigies excelling through college, going on to the pros, making a solid name for themselves, and living as an example of one who appreciates his gifts and talents, and humbly lives a life honoring those gifts.