I recently got an email from the Business Journal announcing open nominations for this year’s “40-Under-40” awards, a long-running tradition throughout the country. Not to be outdone, Forbes started its own Logan’s Run-inspired “30-Under-30” a few years ago (which is actually a list of 600 people; “math” is not one of the categories).
This celebration of the young might prompt some people over 40 to wonder whether opportunity has passed them by or is still on the road ahead, especially as the workforce is aging and downsizing prompts more mid-life career changes.
They might draw inspiration from a story I read a while back about a guy who didn’t get his big break until 45 – at a time when average male life expectancy was only 66. When he got the job, it wasn’t clear whether it would turn out to be professional exile or the opportunity of a lifetime.
He had been an athlete in college, frequently injured for three of his four playing years. He considered a career in law, but dropped out of law school. At one time he had even thought about being a priest – another pursuit he abandoned.
He toiled in the shadows of his chosen profession for years, achieving some noteworthy successes but never on the stage or at the level he felt he was truly capable of. For years he harbored frustration watching peers advance, often suspecting that his lack of opportunity was a product of prejudice. When job offers did present themselves, he could be conflicted and maddeningly indecisive.
These may not sound like the traits we usually associate with success, but the guy made the most of his big break, to say the least. In less than a decade, his name was permanently enshrined in American culture as synonymous with achievement and excellence. Richard Nixon even considered him as a Vice Presidential candidate (turns out he was a Democrat). As recently as last week, a million or so people – many born decades after his death – gathered a few blocks from my house to catch a glimpse of a trophy with his name on it. And to drink. Well, mostly to drink.
Perhaps I took a few editorial liberties in reciting a tale that usually begins with “Winning isn’t everything, but it’s the only thing.” The legend of Vince Lombardi often recalls the passion, drive, charisma, and discipline that led to unprecedented victory. But the complete story is a reminder that the path to greatness isn’t always a tidy or linear fairy tale; our heroes are more complex than we remember. It’s also a reminder that even in those moments when it might feel like we don’t have what it takes, or opportunity has passed us by, anything is possible.
