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Fanatical Prospecting — Chapter-23: The Only Question That Really Matters
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23 The Only Question That Really Matters My son plays wide receiver for a small-town high school football team in the heart of the South where football is more than a game— it’s a religion. Friday nights under the lights are sacred, and in this cathedral of sport, few things are worse than going into a game knowing that your chances of winning are slim to none. But that was how the stage was set for what we call the Backyard Brawl: the traditional first game of the season between our school and a rival just across the county line. Years ago when this rivalry was first conceived, the game was an even match. But over time, economic expansion in the county next door helped our rival school grow in size. With that growth, they gained more resources, funding, and players. Their facilities are beautiful and their crowd of fans large. This inequity had been a major contributor to our six straight Backyard Brawl losses. 266
As our small contingent of parents entered their stadium on Friday night and walked across the manicured field and past our rival’s huge crowd, there was little hope to lift us up. We knew and they knew what the outcome of this game would be. So we settled in for our traditional beating and prepared for the after-game clichés and platitudes we’d use to lift the spirits of our sons. At midfield the opposing team towered above our boys. Taller, bigger, faster, stronger, and there were many more of them com- pared to our limited bench. It was intimidating. A casual observer comparing the two teams would quickly conclude that our team had no chance of winning. The whistle blew and on the first series of downs they stopped us deadinourtracks.Theparentssighedandtheteampunted.Onthenext set of downs, the other team began systematically advancing toward our end zone. That’s when our coach started screaming from the sideline: “How bad do you want it, boys? How bad do you want it?” Then we slowed them down, then we stopped them, then we forced a punt. It was a stunning, unexpected moment for both teams and a payoff for three solid months of planning, practice, and focus directed at this one moment of truth. The turning point when our young men truly believed that they could play head to head against their much larger rivals and not get pushed around. Our players and coaches had invested endless hours viewing film. They worked harder and pushed harder than ever before in brutal practices. Coach Bo, our head coach, took them to watch the other team play in the preseason and showed them where they were weak. And, there were the infamous sled drills. Coach Bo prepared his players to win mentally by making them push a heavy sled, laden with the extra weight of the entire coaching staff, six times a day. Six times for each of the six previous losses! Pushing the sled was awful and grueling and designed to harden them mentally. Coach Bo knew that when the team reached their breaking point, nothing they faced would be worse than pushing that sled, and, of course, the thought of adding a seventh rep if they lost was unbearable. The Only Question That Really Matters 267
Our underdogs turned it on and battled their Goliath adversaries as equals. Time and time again we stopped them. Tackles behind the line, balls batted down on passes that would have been touchdowns, sacks that made the pocket a dangerous place, and punts that pinned them back to their end zone. With each stop the refrain, “How bad do you want it?” gained more meaning. Everything the other team poured at us we somehow, some way, improbably stopped. Then we scored. Our running back scrambled, broketackles,andmanagedtostayonhisfeet.Outinfrontofhim,our blockers threw themselves at the defenders. As he dove across the goal line, a roar erupted from our stands. We’d drawn first blood. The other team was stunned. It was not supposed to happen this way. Beating our team had become so routine that they’d checked the win column on their schedule before the game even started. Their fans fell silent as their players, heads hung low, limped off the field to the locker room at the half. Our boys, who were playing both sides of the ball, sprinted off the field. Their bodies were exhausted and the steaming South Georgia heat had taken its toll, but mentally they were on fire. They wanted it. On the opening play of the second half, the other team caught a break on a missed tackle and took the ball all the way down to our five-yard line. It appeared that they’d regrouped and reenergized at half-time. But our boys held them in the red zone and we got the ball back on downs. It was unbelievable! For the next 30 minutes it was a bare-knuckle brawl—back and forth and back and forth. They threw everything at us, including the kitchen sink. Each time we held the line and pushed them back. But with just two minutes left on the clock, we turned the ball over. In a gut-wrenching final push, the other team somehow got a second wind and marched down the field, completing pass after pass. Our boys were past the point of exhaustion. Coach Bo was screaming from the sidelines. “One more play, one more down! How bad do you want it?” 268 Fanatical Prospecting
We finally stopped them on third down, but the clock refused to die. There was still time for one more play. Fourth down and five seconds left on the clock—the final play of the game with every- thing on the line. The suspense was almost unbearable. It was a heart-stopper. Five seconds on the clock. One shot to get into the end zone. “How bad do you want it, boys? How bad do you want it?” From our 15-yard line the ball was snapped and that’s when everything shifted into slow motion. Their quarterback stepped back into the pocket, searching desperately for an open receiver. Then he cocked his arm and hurled the ball into the air toward the corner of the end zone. The ball seemed to float for an eternity. Their star receiver leaped high, his fingertips reaching and grasping for the perfectly thrown pass. Our outgunned defender scrambled, frantically trying to knock it loose. For one still second there was silence in the stands. Everything stopped. It looked as if their receiver would come down with the ball. I could hear Coach Bo’s words echoing in my head. “How bad do you want it, boys? How bad do you want it?” Our defender reached for the ball, stretching himself to the very limit. With one final push he connected and tipped the ball out of the receiver’s hands. It dropped uncaught onto grass in the back of the end zone and as it rolled to a stop, there was a sudden, deafening realization that we had won! Then there was bedlam. We screamed and danced and hugged and congratulated. Our boys had done the impossible. They had won the Backyard Brawl. In sales and life there will always be somebody or something intimidating, a competitor, or some problem that is bigger, faster, stronger, or smarter than you. There will always be a mountain you’ll havetoclimbandanuphillbattleyou’llhavetofighttoreachyourgoal. The Briarwood Buccaneers proved, once again, what great teams and great people have always known: When you are faced with a challenge or when the game is on the line, it is not about how big you are, how strong, how much The Only Question That Really Matters 269
training, resources, experience, background, degrees, talent, intelli- gence, money, that BS story you keep telling yourself about why you can’t, or any of the other things that far too often become excuses that hold you back. When you face your Goliath, when you set your goals, when you face fear, rejection, and adversity; when you’re tired, worn out, and have the choice to go home or make one more call—the only question that really matters is: How bad do you want it? 270 Fanatical Prospecting