Earlier this year I traveled to Phoenix to witness one of the great phenomenons of professional sports: two-time NBA MVP Steve Nash. There's no other sport where genetic selection is at such a premium (many argue that NBA players are the greatest all-around athletes for the combination of extraordinary size, hand/eye coordination, power, speed, strength and endurance), yet Nash is an ordinary physical specimen who would be difficult to pick out of a crowd of fans. Until you see him in action on the court...his command of the game at point guard is, by his own estimation and many others, a product of hard work, intense focus and tremendous passion for the game. Even a casual observer can see a special focus and concentration level from Nash. He's a picture of frenetic perpetual motion. Even during pre-game warm-ups, he engages in drills and rituals far more elaborate than other players. Bringing the ball up on offense, his eyes dart around urgently and he will commonly rifle a pass to what seems like nowhere but soon reveals itself to be an ideal spot for a teammate to enjoy an advantage over his opponent and score.
With the massive interest and incentives offered to play in the NBA, one wonders how a guy of relatively moderate speed, strength and height could ascend to the top of his sport. The truth is, Nash's physical gifts are just as profound, but far less overt, than players like Kevin Garnett--the strong, fast, powerful and graceful 7-foot Boston Celtic who went straight from high school to NBA stardom--or Kobe Bryant, a genetic marvel (his father Joe enjoyed a long professional career) who also went from high school to the NBA; he can take over a game seemingly at will with superhuman athletic skills. (Forget the 10-foot basket disadvantage for regular folks. Go try a breakaway 360-degree dunk on a 7-foot basket; you need the kinesthetic awareness of a gymnast just to get the ball in the hole!)
Nash's legendary shooting accuracy (he's one of the best in NBA history from the 3-point line and the free-throw line), outstanding balance, vision, ambidexterity, risk/reward decision making and floor leadership lead one to ponder whether Nash is more freak of nurture, or hard work, than nature, like the many giants he plays with. This is actually an age-old sports debate and one that sadly has frequently taken racist overtones. The truth is, gifts come in many packages and Nash's most profound gift is his passion, for the game and for his relentless pursuit of peak performance without distraction. This kind of "gift" is the most inspirational of all, because we all have the opportunity to improve our focus, work ethic and appreciation for pursuing peak performance in endeavors we are passionate about. By doing so, we will naturally experience the desirable by-product of improved competitive results.
The sign of a true champion is perseverance during difficult times and emphasis on the process--learning from mistakes and striving for continued improvement--over the end results. This is the legacy of athletes like Nash, who has overcome long odds and many naysayers to stand at the mountaintop of his sport and enjoy every minute of it despite the tremendous pressure. The high stakes and fanatacism of professional sports, and the consumerism element that dominates modern life, have caused us to often disrespect these important principles such that we become little league parents, vacuous high achievers with minimal connection or compassion for others and while focusing on winning to the exclusion of the process. Watching great athletes like Steve Nash or Tiger Woods (who embodies the process-oriented peak performance approach with his enduring goal of trying to hit each shot perfectly with total focus) provides a refreshing and empowering lesson that we can directly apply to our own lives--if we pay attention to the nuances beyond the scoreboard.
With the massive interest and incentives offered to play in the NBA, one wonders how a guy of relatively moderate speed, strength and height could ascend to the top of his sport. The truth is, Nash's physical gifts are just as profound, but far less overt, than players like Kevin Garnett--the strong, fast, powerful and graceful 7-foot Boston Celtic who went straight from high school to NBA stardom--or Kobe Bryant, a genetic marvel (his father Joe enjoyed a long professional career) who also went from high school to the NBA; he can take over a game seemingly at will with superhuman athletic skills. (Forget the 10-foot basket disadvantage for regular folks. Go try a breakaway 360-degree dunk on a 7-foot basket; you need the kinesthetic awareness of a gymnast just to get the ball in the hole!)
Nash's legendary shooting accuracy (he's one of the best in NBA history from the 3-point line and the free-throw line), outstanding balance, vision, ambidexterity, risk/reward decision making and floor leadership lead one to ponder whether Nash is more freak of nurture, or hard work, than nature, like the many giants he plays with. This is actually an age-old sports debate and one that sadly has frequently taken racist overtones. The truth is, gifts come in many packages and Nash's most profound gift is his passion, for the game and for his relentless pursuit of peak performance without distraction. This kind of "gift" is the most inspirational of all, because we all have the opportunity to improve our focus, work ethic and appreciation for pursuing peak performance in endeavors we are passionate about. By doing so, we will naturally experience the desirable by-product of improved competitive results.
The sign of a true champion is perseverance during difficult times and emphasis on the process--learning from mistakes and striving for continued improvement--over the end results. This is the legacy of athletes like Nash, who has overcome long odds and many naysayers to stand at the mountaintop of his sport and enjoy every minute of it despite the tremendous pressure. The high stakes and fanatacism of professional sports, and the consumerism element that dominates modern life, have caused us to often disrespect these important principles such that we become little league parents, vacuous high achievers with minimal connection or compassion for others and while focusing on winning to the exclusion of the process. Watching great athletes like Steve Nash or Tiger Woods (who embodies the process-oriented peak performance approach with his enduring goal of trying to hit each shot perfectly with total focus) provides a refreshing and empowering lesson that we can directly apply to our own lives--if we pay attention to the nuances beyond the scoreboard.
