Nothing ventured, nothing gained

Editor's Note: John wrote this after his sports team -- you'll be able to tell which one -- produce a "feel-good" sensation all over America.  Or at least in his house.

Few things can compare to the joy of watching your young daughters stand up and enthusiastically lead a whole section in a Utah! First Down! cheer.  Few things can compare to the euphoria of hugging and high-fiving friends, family, and total strangers in a moment of unbridled celebration, as we did seemingly every week during our undefeated season peppered with improbable last minute comebacks.  And few things can compare to the humbling awe and wonder of seeing a team you love accomplish something you really didn't think they could do.

Truth be told, I didn't think my Utes could beat a team like Alabama, especially not in their backyard.  I had listened to all the experts, just like everyone else, and the experts told me to abandon my faith.  And I passed on the messages of the experts to my kids.  I "managed their expectations," as they say in the corporate world.  I told them we're unlikely to win; that Alabama is really good; that I just hope we didn't get killed.  In retrospect, it was a faithless and not-so-courageous message for me to convey.  

One thing I'm always working on, and trying to pass on to my kids, is that I should do less hedging against disappointment and more living for the glorious moments of pure joy.  Opening oneself up to the risk of disappointment, and the disappointments that inevitably follow, is just the cost of doing business in the pursuit of happiness, it seems.  Yet after seeing countless wonderfully improbable things happen -- in raising a family, in sports, during my missionary service in South Africa, in other community and church service, in my profession as a lawyer -- I still find myself too often falling victim to the tyranny of the probable.  It's a pernicious type of cynical inertia, really.  Why put in the work, effort, and commitment to prepare for a game you are unlikely to win?  Why devote yourself to a cause that is unlikely to make a difference?  Because the game is worthwhile, the cause is just, and, at the end of it all, you'll be celebrating with your family and friends with such joy that time and space will stand still, like we did in the Wunderli home last Friday night.

Go Utes!