{"version":"1.0","type":"rich","provider_name":"Acast","provider_url":"https://acast.com","height":250,"width":700,"html":"<iframe src=\"https://embed.acast.com/$/5a481aca95dfbf9d13d4dc6f/5c61e170e0466c4741ed7fc8?\" frameBorder=\"0\" width=\"700\" height=\"250\"></iframe>","title":"133: At Least Try","thumbnail_width":200,"thumbnail_height":200,"thumbnail_url":"https://open-images.acast.com/shows/5a481aca95dfbf9d13d4dc6f/1549918568777-7dc7f36b5e9417a0e6ca442e4934bc6f.jpeg?height=200","description":"<p>When I played sports competitively, I once watched a pass go by me without trying because I thought I couldn't make a play on it. A teammate asked why I just watched.</p><p>I said, \"Because I couldn't reach it.\"</p><p>He said, \"At least <em>try!</em>\"</p><p>Larry Bird said something similar: \"It makes me sick when I see a guy just watching it go out of bounds.\"</p><p>The view has stuck with me. I haven't gone for every pass I could, but I respect when an outfielder sprints to the wall even when he know the ball will carry over the fence. The difference between watching and trying is meaning and purpose. I try for as many passes as I can.</p><p>The pervasive environmental view, \"If I act but no one else does then what I do doesn't matter,\" and the passive behavior it leads to, embodies a meaningless existence.</p><p>I try in part today because I tried then. Today's post explores this view and several related ones in more depth.</p>","author_name":"Joshua Spodek: Author, Speaker, Professor"}