Batting Over .600
When I was but a young lad growing up in the outskirts of Atlanta, I set three goals for my life: I would 1) play professional baseball, 2) dunk on a 10-ft basketball goal, and 3) I would participate in the Summer Olympic Games. Well, some 30 years later, and much to your surprise I’m certain, I can say that I’ve accomplished two of the three. Impressive indeed. So which one didn’t I accomplish? Well, had I played major league baseball, I likely wouldn’t be a financial advisor – I would own a financial advisor. Nope, I hung up the glove at 18. (Something about a “horrendous control problem” I recall hearing from those in the know.) At 19, however, I dunked. I threw it down in an old, dimly lit gymnasium at Berry College. It was a volleyball, I will concede, but it still counted. And for a few moments on that fall afternoon, I was King of the Court.
Fast forward a few years…
I’ve just graduated from college, with honors I should add, and like most folks in that position, I put the diploma and accolades to good use – I formed a rock band. “It’s okay”, I explained to my parents, “we’re going to be the next big thing, you’ll see!” Once again, if that were the case, I would not currently be a financial advisor – I would own one. But I digress. And in 1996, the city of Atlanta was to host the Summer Olympic Games. Here was my chance. Mid-twenties, more or less. In shape, more or less. And ready to compete. Not really. Not at all, actually. But just when it appeared that my third life goal might slip away – the phone rang. A friend of mine in public relations for ACOG (Atlanta’s Committee for the Olympic Games) called and extended an invitation to the band. “Billy, we want you to play for the athletes in the Olympic Village.” So play for them we did. We were even allowed to eat with them in the dining hall!
Side story: On the way to the dining hall, we saw what appeared to be a tram, of sorts, full of little kids. One of my band mates asked, “Are those athletes’ kids?” “Nope”, came the reply from our host, “those are gymnasts.”
We also found international trouble with a few armed soldiers but that’s a post for another day. And what a day that was! Playing music for some of the world’s best athletes. Granted, they appeared not to understand a single word we sang. But no matter. Because on that day, for just an hour or so, we were all the same. We were O-L-Y-M-P-I-A-N-S. At least until the last song. We were unceremoniously ushered out of the Village gates before the last chord finished ringing, which may or may not have had something to do with the armed soldier incident. Nevertheless, we were Olympians. And if you’re keeping score, that’s 2 goals out of 3.
Fast forward a few more years…
As I have changed over the years, so have my goals. They’ve shifted away from personal, athletic accomplishments, and in the direction of family and providing for their present and future. My present and future, investing in theirs. With the right plan, and the appropriate attention paid to said plan, my prayer is that I’ll be successful. But even the best plans, as we all know, have no guarantee of success. But who needs a guarantee? After all, I’m an Olympian… and I’ve dunked.
