When I was in high school I had a smooth jump shot. I put up points as if I was competing with the U.S. deficit. Packed gyms would chant my nickname, “Ball hog, ball hog!” Hell, I earned it. I passed about as much as a running back.
Some folks (mainly my Pops and I) had big plans for my future. I was going to get a Division-1 scholarship, hopefully followed by a stint professionally somewhere.
There was only one tiny problem (aside from the whole no passing thing). I didn’t play defense. I couldn’t guard a safe. Sure, I could score with the best of ‘em, but what good did it do me when I couldn’t contain anyone else?
Eventually, some of my competitive-team coaches stopped playing me. I sat on the bench more than a judge. They evaluated my talent and relegated me accordingly.
Experts, coaches, judges and pundits are always grading us like meat in a grocery store, but how often do they make the right call?
Take the recent inexplicable rise of Jeremy Lin. If you haven’t heard of “Linsanity,” “Lincredible” or “That amazing Asian dude,” let me recap: Jeremy Lin is a professional basketball player for the New York Knicks.
He’s a Harvard alumnus and finally got a chance to play some serious minutes after injuries sidelined his teammates. As soon as he was given an opportunity, he immediately transformed his team into a contender and is playing like a bona fide MVP. In barely two weeks’ time, he’s got more highlights than NSYNC’s hair.
He’s also Asian-American, which adds another element to the story many writers have discussed.
But the main question is, how did this happen? How is it possible that someone so obviously talented and impressive as Lin had been overlooked for so long?
This is a guy who played in the minor leagues. Another team cut him from their roster. But when you watch him compete, you recognize he’s usually the best player on the court (including in a win over Kobe Bryant’s Lakers).
Perhaps some of this has to do with the fact that he’s Asian-American. Maybe more than some. But if we put that aside for the moment, there’s another point that my Pops used to remind me of when I was younger, “These guys (my coaches), they just can’t evaluate talent. They couldn’t evaluate a menu for crissakes.”
He’s right. The movie “Moneyball,” is a case in point.
We entrust people to analyze and evaluate everything for us these days.
News shows have pundits to tell us how to process the news, food shows have critics to judge the dishes, fashion shows ditto, weight loss shows, sports announcers evaluate the game minute-by-minute.
In fact, you’d be hard pressed to find any show besides a sitcom that doesn’t have a panel of experts. Even a movie I was watching on TV the other day was interrupted during commercial breaks for a few commentators to dissect the previous scenes.
It’s patronizing. And too often, these evaluators are unqualified, unprepared or, more maddeningly, unequivocally wrong. They’re also often superfluous.
Our professors at AU: How often do you think they accurately predict and/or mentor the most promising student in the class? Shouldn’t they? Do they take time to nurture and encourage a budding student, or are their evaluating skills abysmal too? Some teachers seem more concerned with page quantity than content quality.
It makes me question how often those in positions of authority overlook potential right before their eyes.
In my case, the coaches made the right call. I’ve seen the Eagles play and I’d be lucky just to shoot the technicals.
In Lin’s case, all the folks who snubbed him are being rightfully chided for neglect. Thousands of others in similar situations like Lin are being overlooked by managers/pundits with biases or lack of discernment skills.
At least, that’s my evaluation.
Conor Shapiro is a graduate student in the School of International Service.
