I love games.
Board games, card games, party games - you name it. Strategy games were always my favorite. Chess, Stratego, Risk, Go, Pente, and more. I'm not sure why. I guess when you live in a small town and you don't have much else to do, you end up making your own fun. My fun was mastering any game I could get my hands on.
My fourth grade teacher loved playing chess. He was really good and never took it easy on me. Even when I moved on to sixth and seventh grade, I would walk back across town after school to meet him for our weekly chess match.
I had a long row of chess books at home and studied them more than my homework. But no matter how much I learned about chess I could never beat Mr. Kern.
Then one day I castled, sacrified my knight, and set myself up beautifully for the end game. We danced around each other on the board in silence, the custodian's keys echoing in the empty, familiar hallway.
We traded pieces and shielded our kings, and it became apparent that I wasn't going to lose. I had dreamt of this moment and anticipated his moves. Mr. Kern stared down over the board and, after what seemed like hours, he did exactly what I was hoping. Finally, it was my turn.
It was a draw. I had pulled even. I was ecstatic.
Mr. Kern - Lyle - had given me a tremendous gift. He had forced me to actually learn the game and try to outwork him. He hadn't let me win and had always played his best.
Somedays he would humiliate me, winning after a handful of moves. Others, we would fight hard before he would outfox me with a clever combination. But that day was different. I was prepared for his strategy and fought back. I had learned to hold my own and create my own opportunities. It took months and months of agonizing defeats, but my dedication had finally paid off.
I don't remember playing chess with Lyle much after that. Middle school activities got in the way; track, drama, basketball, and choir. I was caught up in adolescence, trying hard to fit in when I could and hide when I couldn't.
In high school I joined the tennis team. Only in a small town could your high school tennis coach also be your favorite elementary school teacher. Lyle and I had crossed paths again.
I had a volatile temper on the court, always knowing I could be better but unable to get where I wanted. And Lyle was there for me again, showing me ways to control my anger and channel it into my game. By my senior year, thanks to Lyle, I was a top-ten finisher at the state tournament.
My favorite games - just like tennis and chess - teach you patience. You have to commit to something for a long time and know that your hard work will pay off in the end. You have to be willing to be terrible in hopes that one day you can finally pull even. You have to wait for your shot before you can finally unleash your forehand...or bishop...or new mind reading show.
There's no shortcut to success. There's no secret "lifehack" that will suddenly get you where you want to be. No one is going to take it easy on you and if they do, they'll only be doing you a disservice.
Some people find success quickly, with few roadblocks or detours along the way. For the rest of us, we have to keep working and writing and practicing and studying and finally - after patiently waiting - it's our turn to make a move.