I just got back from the Derby and had some very mixed feelings on the way home. I considered my results, but then had to look at my play.
My results were very satisfying. This was my best Derby. I finished tied for 25th in the 1P and tied for 20th in the 9 ball. I had beaten several higher ranked players including Eberle, Pinager, Morra, and Danny Smith. Against the players similar to my speed I won two and lost one (Jesus Atencia is ranked lower than me but I'm not sure how long that will last so I don't feel too bad). And I only dropped one set to a player that was a bit under my speed.
But while my results on paper looked good, my play was disappointing. Many of my sets came down to the wire. I had several one pocket matches go 3-2 and several 9 ball matches were 6-6 or 7-7 and I barely closed them out. One match I fell behind 5-1 and only my opponent's mistakes allowed me to come back and win. I struggled with nerves a lot more than normal. And my game basically broke down. My stroke felt wobbly and weak and it felt like I was fighting myself to deliver the cue ball where I was looking. My confidence fell through the floor. Routine run outs started looking tough because I didn't know what I could count on myself to do anymore.
I got to spend a lot of time watching the premier strikers in the game. Shaw, Filler, SVB of course. But another player that really dazzled me was Omar Al Shaheen who eliminated me from the 9 ball. Watching him was eye opening. His stroke was so powerful and accurate, and he seemed so relaxed and confident. He was just bombing in difficult shots with such grace it was both inspiring and discouraging. Inspiring because I long to be able to do that. Discouraging because I know it is unlikely I'll ever be able to develop that type of stroke. When you commit a big part of your life to a game and get to a high level it's heartbreaking to face the fact there are levels of play you'll likely never be able to unlock. When I think about those things I find myself losing motivation. What's the point?
But then I remember the joke about the bear and I'm ok again. It goes like this: Two hikers stumble across an angry, growling bear. One of the hikers quickly changes into his running shoes. The other hiker looks at him and says "What are you doing, you can't possibly outrun a bear!" The first hiker replies "I don't have to, I just have to outrun you!"
See, perfection, or SVB/Filler level of play, that is the bear. I can't outrun the bear. I understand I won't be beating them in my lifetime. But the other hiker, that is me. The me I was during this tournament. The me with the weak stroke, the shaky nerves, and the low confidence. I can't outplay SVB/Filler, but I think there's a good chance I can beat the player I was last week.
Suddenly, all of my flaws turn into good things. If my goal is to get better, then they are great! If I didn't have weaknesses in my game I'd be at a loss, totally stuck. Instead I have nothing but opportunities to improve! Furthermore, if I can achieve what I did with the game I had, what would happen if I could make it slightly less bad? I don't see winning this event as a possibility, but could I make the final 8? The final 4? Who knows? But I know a guy who'd like to find out. Little by little I feel my discouragement slipping away and that familiar feeling of fire in my belly wakes up again.
On the 12 hour ride home I committed myself to finding out how strong and powerful I could make my stroke. I got to the table today and went to work. The road ahead may be long but one thing was immediate was how much I was asking from myself. I had a crystal clear high definition picture in my mind of how Omar looked hitting those balls and I became laser focused on taking steps that direction. I started hitting shots with more distance, speed, and into tight pockets. And I did it for two long sessions today. It felt great, and I can't wait to hit it again tomorrow. And the next day.
Who knows where I'll end up. That's irrelevant to me. What's important is that I corrected my focus. Because the truth is the most important opponent we face isn't SVB or that guy in leagues that has our number. It's ourselves. We are only ever competing against ourselves. And we will always win if we give it our best, because by becoming the best version of ourselves we will always be better off than if we were to succumb to discouragement and inaction.
Let the bear get that guy. I'm putting on my running shoes. Who's coming with me?!?
My results were very satisfying. This was my best Derby. I finished tied for 25th in the 1P and tied for 20th in the 9 ball. I had beaten several higher ranked players including Eberle, Pinager, Morra, and Danny Smith. Against the players similar to my speed I won two and lost one (Jesus Atencia is ranked lower than me but I'm not sure how long that will last so I don't feel too bad). And I only dropped one set to a player that was a bit under my speed.
But while my results on paper looked good, my play was disappointing. Many of my sets came down to the wire. I had several one pocket matches go 3-2 and several 9 ball matches were 6-6 or 7-7 and I barely closed them out. One match I fell behind 5-1 and only my opponent's mistakes allowed me to come back and win. I struggled with nerves a lot more than normal. And my game basically broke down. My stroke felt wobbly and weak and it felt like I was fighting myself to deliver the cue ball where I was looking. My confidence fell through the floor. Routine run outs started looking tough because I didn't know what I could count on myself to do anymore.
I got to spend a lot of time watching the premier strikers in the game. Shaw, Filler, SVB of course. But another player that really dazzled me was Omar Al Shaheen who eliminated me from the 9 ball. Watching him was eye opening. His stroke was so powerful and accurate, and he seemed so relaxed and confident. He was just bombing in difficult shots with such grace it was both inspiring and discouraging. Inspiring because I long to be able to do that. Discouraging because I know it is unlikely I'll ever be able to develop that type of stroke. When you commit a big part of your life to a game and get to a high level it's heartbreaking to face the fact there are levels of play you'll likely never be able to unlock. When I think about those things I find myself losing motivation. What's the point?
But then I remember the joke about the bear and I'm ok again. It goes like this: Two hikers stumble across an angry, growling bear. One of the hikers quickly changes into his running shoes. The other hiker looks at him and says "What are you doing, you can't possibly outrun a bear!" The first hiker replies "I don't have to, I just have to outrun you!"
See, perfection, or SVB/Filler level of play, that is the bear. I can't outrun the bear. I understand I won't be beating them in my lifetime. But the other hiker, that is me. The me I was during this tournament. The me with the weak stroke, the shaky nerves, and the low confidence. I can't outplay SVB/Filler, but I think there's a good chance I can beat the player I was last week.
Suddenly, all of my flaws turn into good things. If my goal is to get better, then they are great! If I didn't have weaknesses in my game I'd be at a loss, totally stuck. Instead I have nothing but opportunities to improve! Furthermore, if I can achieve what I did with the game I had, what would happen if I could make it slightly less bad? I don't see winning this event as a possibility, but could I make the final 8? The final 4? Who knows? But I know a guy who'd like to find out. Little by little I feel my discouragement slipping away and that familiar feeling of fire in my belly wakes up again.
On the 12 hour ride home I committed myself to finding out how strong and powerful I could make my stroke. I got to the table today and went to work. The road ahead may be long but one thing was immediate was how much I was asking from myself. I had a crystal clear high definition picture in my mind of how Omar looked hitting those balls and I became laser focused on taking steps that direction. I started hitting shots with more distance, speed, and into tight pockets. And I did it for two long sessions today. It felt great, and I can't wait to hit it again tomorrow. And the next day.
Who knows where I'll end up. That's irrelevant to me. What's important is that I corrected my focus. Because the truth is the most important opponent we face isn't SVB or that guy in leagues that has our number. It's ourselves. We are only ever competing against ourselves. And we will always win if we give it our best, because by becoming the best version of ourselves we will always be better off than if we were to succumb to discouragement and inaction.
Let the bear get that guy. I'm putting on my running shoes. Who's coming with me?!?
