Dear Reader, I interrupt my series on Wars to write of something that happened this week.
By Terry Plotkin.
I had to make a decision the other day about an opportunity that presented itself. I could not decide what to do, but my friend gave me some good advice. He said, “Whatever you decide, make peace with your decision, don’t look back, and don’t think about it. It’s done. That makes sense to me; I have indulged enough in regret in my life.
Here is the situation:
My son, who lives near Boston, bought tickets to the pivotal 6th game of the Celtics/Miami basketball series and offered one to me. I was mixed about whether to make this trip. Watching a game in front of the television, using the DVR to skip all the nonsense, and having a bed nearby as soon as the game ended is very appealing.
I took the romantic route. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity to see a great team on a great day. (I have been a life-long Celtic fan.) My son wanted me to come, and I knew we would be happy to be at the game together. I didn’t even have to work the next day, so I went for it. “Fantastic,” my brother said.
The two-hour drive to Boston went well until I got into the city. Then, shockingly, the traffic started crawling during rush hour. More shocking still, I got lost. I shouted my entire list of known curses at least 3 times through. (It is not my fault, as I inherited this trait from my father.) I saved some special ones for the GPS since it betrayed me, and then there is the absolute insanity of finding my way around Boston. I finally arrived at my son’s apartment. We walked to the Garden, and had a brief scare when we found out they had only reserved one ticket, but that got resolved. We ate a quick dinner, and headed to our seat. We went up the escalator, then another escalator, a few flights of stairs more, and then into the main arena. Once in, we went up more stairs and reached our seats. The rear wall was the only thing behind us. It is true that there are no bad seats at the Garden, but I could have used some of those pills people take when they fly to Tibet to help with the high altitude.
Game time. The Garden was pulsating with energy. Miami got off to an early lead, but the crowd stayed focused, even as the Celtics missed easy shots. Not Lebron James though: He made all his easy shots, and all his hard ones too. All night long. He was a one-man backbreaking machine. As the second half began, things got worse, and then moved onto worst. The crowd was now groaning more than it was cheering. By early in the 4th quarter only the morons were making noise. The smart ones filtered out, and I used up the last of my curses. When Coach Doc Rivers cleared the bench, my son and I headed for the exit. I told him the game was not worth $150. He said it wasn’t worth anything. I went to bed in his living room and then headed out early in the morning going on little sleep because I had to move my car or get towed. City logic makes me crazy. Rush hour traffic was again upon me, but the GPS and I got along better. I never dreamed the game would go like that. At least the company was good.
The moral of this story is sometimes you take risks and they work. Sometimes they don’t. It is best to take both in stride. Sometimes you make the wrong choice and it turns out well. Sometimes you make the right choice and it turns out bad. If presented with the same situation again I might make the same choice. History is not necessarily a good guide, and no situation is ever the same. As the ancient Greek, Heraclitus, said, “You can’t step into the same river twice.”