The Only Thing Worse Than Losing
'Whenever we engage in a real effort to go after what we want, we put ourselves at risk. Any investment we make, by definition, allows for the possibility that won’t see the kind of return we desire."
A few days ago, I stood impatiently on the ninth hole of a sun-drenched Arizona golf course. I was losing a tournament match that I wasn’t all that jacked up to play in the first place — mostly because I knew how brutally slow the pace of play would be. What a brat.
Perhaps it was karma giving me a slap, but as I stood there waiting for the players to clear the green, a disappointing email hit my inbox. It was a form letter from the director of the John S. Knight Journalism Fellowships at Stanford — letting me know that I wasn’t one of the winners.
I had already told four of my golf pals via text that I was losing what already felt like a six-hour match. They humorously encouraged me to “just beat him quickly!” Upon getting the Stanford news, I joked back to them that I was already 0-1 on the day. Seconds later, my disappointment turned a little edgier, and I texted the boys that I was going to “pulverize this guy” on the back nine…
The John Knight Journalism Fellowship is a pretty amazing opportunity. The one and only time that I’d previously applied for it was in 1999. I had just left a reporting job at NBC in Central California, and I threw in an application on a whim. I was shocked when they informed me that I was a finalist and that they were going to fly me to Palo Alto for an afternoon of interviews.
Back then, Knight Fellows were paid $50K to be part of the program and audit anything in the entire university (today it is $100K). No exams or papers, just intensive coaching on the specific “journalism challenge” you were planning to solve — and weekly lectures and meetings with prominent journalists and international leaders.
I was just 31 years old at the time, and had barely worked the minimum seven years that Stanford required to even review your submission. During the interview, the panelists told me that I was the youngest finalist they’d ever had, and that I should feel pretty proud of that fact alone. In the next sentence, they advised me that because of my youth, I should not be crestfallen if I did not make the final cut.
I understood what they were saying, yet in just one afternoon meeting those people and visiting that campus — I remember thinking that I had never wanted anything so much in my life. I could not wait for the mail to arrive each day, even after the decision-makers had already telegraphed right to my face what the likely outcome would be. And that’s exactly what happened. Eh, win some, lose some.
Flash forward to fall of 2023. In the intervening 25 years, I had not given a single thought to reapplying for the John Knight. But after hearing from a colleague of mine who’d just finished a fellowship of a different stripe at Stanford, I started to once again become enthusiastic about the prospect.
Yet I also felt a bit hesitant about sending in an application. This was a function of ego, and I knew it. What if after being a finalist at 31, I didn’t even make it to the same stage at 57 — with two decades more experience working in the worlds of journalism, politics, non-profit and university teaching. That could sting!
Then I remembered my favorite quote from the 10-part documentary, The Last Dance, about Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls of the 1990s. At the beginning of the final episode, Chicago Tribune sportswriter Mark Vancil describes the profound quality that made MJ the singular champion that he is:
“Most people live in fear because they project the past. Michael’s a mystic. He was never anywhere else. His gift was not that he could jump high, run fast, shoot a basketball; his gift was that he was completely present and that was the separator… A big downfall of a lot of players who are otherwise gifted is thinking about failure. Michael didn’t allow what he couldn’t control to get inside his head. He would say, ‘Why would I think about missing a shot I haven’t even taken yet?’”
Moreover, MJ always wants to be the one taking the big shot. The more that’s on the line, the better. I’ve seen this a couple of times both on the pool table and on the golf course. Just like gamblers — and he’s a big one — he likes to experience the action itself; to test himself in every kind of situation imaginable.
So I ended up composing the full Knight application over a three-week period. Assembling all of the personal and professional background stuff was the easier part; I’ve won a few medals over the years.
The far harder piece was ideating and proposing the journalism challenge that I wanted to tackle. I centered my idea around improving mental health care coverage in mainstream media to benefit victims and their families. I’ve been researching and writing about this subject a great deal over the last few years, so it felt like a natural progression.
For whatever the reason, my submission didn’t make the grade with the panel. I was not shocked, knowing the intense competition and subjective nature of the selection process. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt!
Whenever we engage in any real effort to go after what we want, we put ourselves at risk. Any investment we make, by definition, allows for the possibility that won’t see the kind of return that we desire. Or worse, go bust.
But of course, there is a far more positive and productive way to look at anything you put your heart and soul into. Though I didn’t win the fellowship, I got to:
Make great contacts through the interviews I conducted with the American Press Institute and the Media & Mental Health Initiative at Stanford. I would not be surprised if we worked together in the future.
Delve deeper into an idea that I have had for sometime. What I learned in the application process may just propel me to do more work on this challenge with or without any affiliation with the Knight program.
Go through a refresher course on how to say more with less; several of the questions in the Knight application give you a mere 250 words to make your point. It takes me that long to clear my throat, so this was a terrific disciplinary exercise.
Learn more about the JSK Fellowship itself. As Cubs fans have long been known to say: “there’s always next year.” Lo and behold, the year 2016 did finally arrive for them.
I know that you’re dying to know what happened in the golf match: I did end up pulverizing this very nice guy, winning four of the next seven holes. I was glad to advance in the tournament… but I’d rather be planning my year in Palo Alto!
No matter. There’s always the next challenge. And nearly everything that we put our minds and energy into has value — whether in real-time or down the line.
We should never be afraid to lay it all out there. Not only does taking a chance make us feel alive — we also just might end up winning.
The only thing worse than losing? Not shooting your shot.
I competed in a lot of martial arts tournaments. I lost some and won many. When I lost, I asked myself what did I learn to make myself better. Some guys who lost just quit. Putting yourself out there to do what you love doesn't mean you'll succeed, but failure can make you better next time. Now, I watch my grandson's basketball team and they all seem afraid to shoot the ball. I tell my grandson, paraphrasing Wayne Gretsky, "Have fun but remember, you will miss every shot you don't take. So take the shot."