“A soft, simple life is not worth living if it affects the fibers of the brain, heart and muscle. We have to dare to be great; and we have to recognize that greatness is the fruit of effort and sacrifice and high courage … For us, life is action, the strenuous fulfillment of duty; Let us live in the dishes and strive mightily. Let's take the risk of wearing out rather than rusting. "~ Theodore Roosevelt
One of my father's favorite stories about me as a child is when I played catcher in the Little League. I was probably about seven years old, but I had (and still have) an intensity that was not attained.
I crouched behind the plate, the catcher's gear was a bit too big for me, and I punched my fist in my catcher's glove, just like my favorite player Mike Piazza. And like Bruce Lee, I would put my index finger on the jug and signal him to bring it with me.
Once a foul ball was hit in the air. I sprinted with all the desire my little seven year old heart could muster. This ball, this out, was mine.
The ball hit the protective net at the top of the fence, and I put my body out and caught it. Because it got on the net, it was a lazy ball. That didn't stop the parents in the stands and the referee from giving me a standing ovation for my efforts.
My father still says that he was sitting a little bigger in the stands that day and said to himself: "This is my boy." It will always be one of my favorite catches I have ever made. Because I still caught it.
As long as I can remember I always wanted to be the best in something. I tried so many things in my life and wanted to be world class – baseball, boxing, filmmaking, piano, fitness etc.
I always wanted to be recognized as someone special. In this relentless pursuit, I put my heart and soul in everything I did. I lived with a burning fire and an unrelenting passion.
But look there, nothing yet.
I was just an average child in high school, respected but not the most popular.
I tried hardest in every baseball team I grew up in, but always seemed to be on the bench. I only played regularly at college.
When I applied in Michigan, I was put on hold. I was put on the stack where they want to make sure that the "more desirable" came in first. And when I arrived in Michigan, I was divided into a group that received additional help with orientation.
I remember that during the orientation a girl even raised a hand and asked: "Wait, are we the stupid children?"
If I showed you my list of film festival rejections or cold emails that went unanswered, you would think this is an exaggeration.
I failed. I have failed. And just when I thought it couldn't get any more difficult, I failed even more.
I'm almost thirty. While my friends were getting married, having children, buying houses, and living a stable life for themselves, I was wondering if I had a pair of socks that didn't have a hole in them, or if I could spend six dollars buying a hamburger In-N-Out. The victim I chose to live a life that is "different" and "to get the best out of me".
Since I was not the most popular child or all-star athlete in high school, I had to be friendlier, I had to make more efforts, I had to differentiate myself.
I was unable to form the Freshman baseball team. That's why I started boxing. It gave me an opportunity and gave me confidence that I had never had before because I really had to learn what discipline was.
Since I wasn't naturally talented in baseball, I had to find new ways to get stronger, faster, and better. I spent countless hours in the cage, hours throwing a softball from long distances with my father until one of my weakest tools became one of my strongest.
I woke up early in the morning and stuck bricks in a backpack, pulled heavy tires around my waist and ran up hills. Sure enough, I became the fastest player on every team and even reached 4.39 40, which, if you don't know a lot about sports, lends a saying from Forrest Gump: "I run like the wind blows."
When I didn't come to Michigan for the first time, I stayed with my math teacher, Ms. Velasquez, every day after school to improve my scores and guess I got on. I'm still thinking
When I don't go to film festivals, I only pushed myself to see more, learn more, do more, learn my craft better because I had to be better to be accepted by my colleagues. It paid off because I had to learn every aspect of the business thoroughly to find new ways to show that I was part of it.
"What is your superpower?"
I have come across this question frequently lately. Maybe it's part of the corporate language, maybe it's a fading fad, but it's still at the forefront of the zeitgeist.
When I was asked the first time, I didn't know how to answer it because my mind wasn't particularly good at anything. I was a guy who just did it and failed.
I was not a big champion. I was just a guy who woke up every morning and did his best every day. I didn't want to inspire anyone with awards or prestige. But I would impress her with kindness and graininess. That is how I would belong.
Recently, when I saw the former Navy SEAL, Jocko Willink, speak, I had some enlightenment.
I have long admired the SEALs since childhood and have repeatedly watched the Discovery Channel documentary BUD Class 234. Getting through BUDs may not be the toughest military training in the world. You don't have to be the fastest, the strongest, you just don't have to stop. I was always impressed.
Jocko said, and I rewrite: “If I had a selection of A-class superstars and a group of outsiders, I always wanted the outsiders because the outsiders almost always wanted more. They wanted to listen. They wanted to learn. “At that moment my perspective changed and a wave of understanding came over me.
I had spent so much time chasing perfection, chasing something that I cannot try to emphasize that I did not realize that I was already unique. I no longer felt the need to withdraw respect from the people I wanted to respect. I just had to be me – an outsider.
That is what drives the fire in me, which burns so strongly, that gives me such an insatiable thirst for knowledge, such a desire to want to learn more, and above all, it has made me myself
In my fourth decade on Earth, I can honestly say that I am not world class in any way. My failures far outweigh my successes. Not in inches, but in miles. I can also say that I no longer see experiences as failures, but now everything as the process that I have become. Someone I'm damn proud of.
My desire to be great and the perception of lack of success have given me the tools to be exactly who I am and who I should be.
I've lived a life full of ups and downs that I can't help but be thankful for the tremendous journey it has taken so far and boy, it was fun. I have gained experience and dare to say wisdom that I would never have experienced without this relentless persecution. The growth is surprisingly fast. And that's the beauty of it all.
Instead of asking myself how I can be special among my colleagues, I wonder why I fit in with it. I'm an outsider, after all, and outsiders don't fit.
Perhaps I can now say that I am world class in something. I am world class in learning from mistakes. For this reason, I will sit down and punch my fist in my glove. Nothing ever fits perfectly. I'm waiting for myself to get involved in a pitch life. This is my superpower.
About Tony Estrada
Tony Estrada is a Mexican-American filmmaker and writer based in Los Angeles. Tony's latest film "¡Viva la Revolución!" Maite Perroni, Lonnie Chavis, Miya Cech and Ian Inigo will be taking a national tour to strengthen young people for the 2021 school year. He has several film and television projects in development and continues to pursue projects and opportunities that help develop the influence of Latinos in front of and behind the camera. Follow on social @vlrmovie and @ tonyestrada22.
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