if you can't appreciate what the other pair of hands are doing, you probably shouldn't be on this court in the first place.
Yo!
Sure, money is good to see when it comes in the door. But the best part of having your phone ring off the hook is the strong evidence it provides: yes, you ARE deeply in the game. You’re in it up to your eyeballs, afterburners pushed to the limit. Depending on the specifics of your craft, you might be in the center of a circle of experts, surrounded by others who speak the same language and understand what you’re doing. They might not know how you’re doing it, but it’s rare to be a serious player in any field without knowing others who share an insider’s perspective. Wannabes know the buzz-words and poses; players know the moves down to their bones.
Parents and coaches are always telling their charges not to get complacent. “There’s always someone bigger, better, faster, stronger, smarter, more clever, more competent, or more capable out in the great big world. Don’t think you’re so special!” Fact is….it’s true. There’s no such thing as complete expertise; there’s always another plateau to reach, another way to do the same job. Game recognizes game because dedicated players know how much work it took for everyone to earn their skills. They might not articulate everything with the same fidelity—a middle school running back doesn’t have the same experience as an all-pro NFLer—but the kid understand the pro’s intentions and athletic articulations. Excellence understands excellence even if it crosses categorical boundaries; the comparisons make the relationships real.
To make qualitative comparisons just so you can figure out placement in a hierarchal pecking order would be to miss the point. Evaluations of comparative quality—that is, appreciating what the other guy can do that you can’t—gives you a chance to grow. We can discover aspects of our own performance that might benefit from the new idea, just as we might be spurred and inspired to show our best stuff so that we can stand confidently among our peers.
Excellence recognizes excellence because excellence is rare. And yet, excellence often doubts itself. Those people who get good at something often feel like charlatans, lacking confidence that they know anything valuable at all. The rest of the world may sing their names, but for people still hungry to grow, the relative gap between everything achieved and everything yet to be learned is vast and foreboding. Outsiders might not see it because they don’t recognize the nuanced terrain. Experts know differently. Having already scaled mountain peaks, they know how hard it was to get there. What’s more, now that they’re standing in rarified air, way up, they can see farther than those who haven’t made the climb, and the views before them are vast and wide. They know there are always new challenges ahead, and those challenges cannot be undertaken blithely. Spectators may look up in wonder, but fellow climbers intimately understand the feelings of endless distance in front of them.
Game recognizes game because it’s specialized. Being a spectator is easy. Being a player is hard. That’s why you always make a good call when you invest your energies in developing your skills. When you determine to make yourself better—at anything—you commit to seeing the world differently than if you lived your life on more certain ground. There are no shortcuts to playing at a high level, but those who play there understand something rich and intimate about others who do, too.