This is a story about a Greyhound and a Basset Hound.
Once upon a time there was a quick dog and a not-so-quick dog. They met each other on the playing field. The dog was a Greyhound by the name of "Flash". The Basset Hound's name was "Skunk".
Skunk was a good player. He had good ball skill, and good instincts for the game. Skunk could take on any other player one-on-one and win every time. He could play a pass onto the foot of a teammate 29 out of 29 times. He could juggle the ball a thousand times with either foot, and could shield a ball from opponents for hours on end.
Unfortunately, Skunk was a little bit slow. Well, actually, Skunk was ridiculously slow. Even house cats running backwards were faster than Skunk's best sprint. But he made up for his lack of speed with a great attitude and 110% effort.
Maybe Skunk couldn't outrun an opponent, but he he could always outsmart them. Instead of running around the outside of a defender to create a scoring opportunity, Skunk would just stand still and let the anxious defender overcommit and run right past him, leaving an opening for a shot.
Then there was Flash. Flash was the fastest player in the league. He used to run track and held the record for the fastest time at Caliente. Flash was also a good player. He had great ball skill, and could understand the game fairly well. Flash was so fast that he could run right past a pass, turn around and go back, get the ball and keep dribbling before the other team could even realize what just happened.
However, Flash was a little bit lazy. Actually, he was exceptionally lazy. He never tried very hard at practice. He never tried to improve at his game. He was blessed with enough speed to play at the top level in his country and so he found that he didn't need to push himself to do better.
Skunk was depressed. Why was it that Skunk had to try so hard to be good? Why was it that no matter how hard Skunk tried, his lack of speed would keep him from ever being the best? It didn't seem fair.
One day, Skunk stayed after practice to do some extra sprints and to work on his bicycle kick. Flash saw Skunk and walked up to him. "Hey, Skunk," said Flash, "Practice is over. Why aren't you going home to watch Friends and Seinfeld?"
Skunk finished his sprint and replied, "Flash ol' buddy, let me explain something to you. Not everybody is as gifted as you. Not everybody can be as fast as you without even trying. In fact, I would do anything to be as fast as you."
Flash looked confused. Skunk continued, "Flash, it is very frustrating to watch somebody like you play and practice. You have been given all of the tools necessary to be the best player on the planet, but you won't try hard enough to reach your potential. If I had half of your speed, I'd be the best player in the world."
Flash just remained quiet. Finally he asked a single question of Skunk. "Skunk, you're a really good player too. Didn't your skill and ability to read the game come naturally?" "This may come as a surprise to you, but NO," said Skunk. "It didn't come naturally. Soccer is something that I love. I have always wanted to be the best that I can be. Everyday after practice, I stay for an hour. I practice juggling, and dribbling, and shooting. Each morning I wake up and run three miles. I love the game, and I want to do everything I can to be the best. But I'm slow, so I have to make up for my slowness by working extra-hard."
Skunk continued his speech, "Last week, when we were losing 3-2, coach told us to dig down deep and elevate our game. We needed to give that extra oooomph. Well, Flash, ten of the players on our team were giving our best to win that game. One of us wasn't giving the extra effort. That person was you, Flash."
Flash just looked sad and walked away without saying anything else. He realized that the entire team probably felt the same way as Skunk. He also knew that the team looked up to him as a role model because he was so good, and that his lazy attitude was enough to bring the whole team down. Instead of being the team leader that inspired the whole team to victory, he was the one player that was holding the team back.
The moral of the story is: It isn't always the Skunk that stinks up the field, OR Never ask a Basset Hound for his opinion unless you want to hear critical remarks about how you're a lazy bum.
I hope none of you are like Flash.
Ciao for Now.