View from the Shotgun Seat of the Staff Van
August 9 2006 at 6:46 PM
by David E.B. Smith
"Who am I? Why am I here?"
Students of the American political landscape will recognize Admiral James Stockdale's universally-misinterpreted opening comments in the 1992 vice-presidential debate. The public interpreted these questions as signs of weakness in a doddering old man, whereas, in truth, they were a modest and self-effacing introduction by an undeservedly unappreciated American hero.
These questions have been much on my mind, in the days leading up to the Butt Lite IIII Rally and in the first few days of the event. I, however, am a doddering old man, or at least feel like one after spending 18 hours in a minivan with Eddie James and John Pedrow, careening across the country from Niobrara, Nebraska to Tombstone, Arizona. Why am I here? What lapse of judgment led me to volunteer for this task? How contagious is the viral crud that is making Eddie cough and hack and spit (mostly on the side of the van) constantly?
And now that we are sitting in our air-conditioned Rally HQ in Tombstone, contemplating where we'll have dinner and cocktails tonight (a cold margarita or two would go down nicely in the heat), we can consider whether the riders are also asking themselves, "Who am I? Why am I here" -- the latter question suggesting both the contemplative state that long-distance riders often find themselves in after long days of droning down open roads, as well as the not-so-philosophical question asked by the rider trying to make the rally instructions, the map, the GPS, and the computer mapping program all agree. "Who am I? Why am I here?" may be purely practical today, but may become more soul-searching by Day 11.
And speaking of Admiral James Stockdale, those of you with day jobs in the corporate world who've had to suffer through those seminars by the latest management gurus may have heard of the Stockdale Paradox. (My co-workers will now wince, knowing of my propensity to use unfathomable paradoxes as illustrations to confuse otherwise meaningful presentations. So here we go again.) Admiral James Stockdale, Navy flier, Vietnam POW, Medal of Honor winner, and vice-presidential candidate, was once asked if optimism helped his colleagues get through their captivity in Vietnam. No, Stockdale said, the optimists died. They constantly got their hopes up, and those hopes were always dashed. The prisoners who survived were the ones who combined an unswerving faith that they would get through their ordeal, with a realistic understanding and acceptance of the odds that were overwhelmingly against them. That is the Stockdale Paradox.
And speaking to riders at tech inspection, at the pre-rally BBQ and banquet, and in the bar at the Two Rivers late at night, I couldn't help but think of the Stockdale Paradox. There were some riders who were filled with a giddy optimism about their own skills and with unbridled expectations about their performance. It will be interesting to see how many of those optimists are still optimists in about 24 hours, when they first start rolling into Tombstone after experiencing mind-numbing southwestern heat, soul-grinding miles of highway, and the evil designs of twisted rallymasters moving them around the U.S. like pawns on a chessboard. It will be interesting to see how many riders had a realistic understanding of the difficulties facing them, and how many riders still have faith in themselves after Leg 1.
And amusing to see their faces when they open their rally packets tomorrow and realize it only gets worse...