Drift and Mastery

A curious thing:  As The Phantom sails on into the sunset years, he expected he would emerge from the mists into a clear stream, and he would see things which were obscure in his callow youth. But, he is still as confused and uncertain as he ever was.

One of the most perplexing things has to do with mastery. With all the talk about "Tiger Moms" and the importance of imparting one generation's hard won knowledge to the next, so the next generation can stand on the shoulders of its predecessors and reach new ground, it is not at all clear, to the Phantom at least, how much this really happens. 

This is the old "nature vs nurture" thing, to some extent. But it is more a question about how much brilliance we can teach and how much is simply found? 

And there is the  question  of  how much "talent" even with training, can to bring people to new places.

Watching children, boys mainly, start wrestling at age seven, there were clearly those who had coordination, strength, quickness, aggressiveness, and these boys won matches and succeeded, but the adult coaches would simply smile and shake their heads and say, "There's only so far athleticism can take you." 
They could look at a nine year old and analyze what attributes he was using to win, and know whether those would serve him to get him to the next level.  

The coaches could point to other kids, who were scrawny and not currently successful, and they could say, "If that kid does not get discouraged, he'll be a champion, eventually, when he bulks up."

 Later, as boys progressed trough puberty and beyond, some of the mostly untutored "beasts" did win state championships, but these were usually the boys who remained small, who were still wrestling at 120 pounds when they were eighteen year old seniors, beating fourteen year old freshmen. None of the 140 pounders who made it to the championship matches were doing this on strength and quickness alone. 

The champions had all been taught, trained, drilled by adults who imparted the science of wrestling to these kids. But not all of these kids, much as they mastered the science, could win. The kids who won, took what they were taught and used it, but they did something more with it.

And there was also the problem that some coaches knew the "real" stuff and others did not. Everyone claimed to "know" but not everyone did.

Listen to baseball coaches teach hitting. You'll hear all sorts of contradictory things: Weight on the back foot, weight on the front. 

Presumably, Baryshnikov, and those spectacular gymnasts, cello players, Broadway stars, all accepted and incorporated training, but went beyond it. The success of the stars is claimed by their teachers and their coaches as validation the coaches knew what they were talking about. But do these masters succeed because of what they were taught, or was what they learned only oil in the gears--gears fashioned elsewhere?
There is a wonderful story about Stevie Wonder showing up at Motown's Detroit Studio at age 16 and telling everybody how grateful he was to the musicians who allowed  him to jam with them. "Oh, I've learned so much here today. This has been so wonderful. Thank you so much for teaching me." 
And one of the old musicians, who is telling this story,  looks at the camera, recalling all this and says, deadpan,  "Believe me: We didn't have nothin' to teach that boy."

A resident training in vascular surgery recently told me: The well kept secret of surgery is that anyone can do it. It's just a matter of who is willing to practice enough. That's the 10,000 hour track you hear from musicians. Want to be Sonny Rollins or Coltrane?   You got to put in 10,000 hours of practice. But, as the Phantom can readily attest, he could practice 10,000 hours and only improve--he will never play piano better than fair.

The Phantom's older son, looking at his younger brother, age 10, ripping through his opponents methodically at a wrestling tournament, shook his 12 year old head and said, "No matter what I do in life, I will never be as good at anything as he is at this, right now."  

Of course, the older son was wrong about that. The older son was neglecting his own talents as a kayaker and as a musician. You cannot wend your way through class 5 rapids in a kayak without being awfully good at kayaking.

But what allows someone to know investing those 10,000 hours will be worth it?

How does someone know he is capable of kayaking down Great Falls and surviving?

Why is it that musicians tend to come from families of musicians? Is it music genes or mostly exposure, encouragement lots of loving nurture?

What is it that van Gogh knew about his own talent which allowed him to devote his life to his art? 

Van Gogh,:Who Taught This Man?

George W. Bush is a better artist than he was a President. But, of course,  that is an invidious comparison. George W is probably a better auto mechanic than he was a President. He was a better student than he was a President.