A YOUNG MAN who is dear to me is the kicker on his university football team. He is doing a wonderful job, and he prompted some thoughts when I began to consider the impact of the kicker’s job on the field. The kicker’s job is unusual, maybe unique, because there only two possible outcomes for a kicker: The job is distinctively pass or fail. The higher percentage kicks, such as point after touchdowns, are considered equivalent to lay ins in basketball. There is seldom a miss. The longer field goal attempts don’t have such high rates of success, so the coaches and fans don’t have expectations that are quite so high as when the kicker lines up for a simple PAT.

So, what if a kicker misses a simple, high-expectation kick? And what if the game literally hangs in the balance? The pressure can be intense.

I wonder what goes through the kicker’s mind in such high-expectation moments. Perhaps it’s similar to the mindset of a golfer lining up over a short putt. There are only two possible outcomes. In golf, missing a short putt is sometimes called “the yips.” The phrase is meant to suggest that it’s the putter’s mind that causes the miss, certainly not the difficulty of the task.

There are similar pass or fail situations in life, but they are not common. For the most part, we go along with a variety of outcomes when we put our best effort into a task. A writer’s poetry or prose can be very satisfying, sometimes it earns attention, and occasionally it earns praise. But never, really, is it a complete failure. Writers can earn a “good grade” or a “bad grade” for their work. If they are disappointed, they can even have a “do-over.” We can always edit, revise, or rewrite.

But what to do with that one-off chance of getting it right? Such situations can be devastating if things go badly.

But wait; there also is another, not-so-obvious possibility: Even errors can be precious and rare opportunities to learn. Pick yourself up/dust yourself off/ start all over again – as the song goes. Another aphorism is in the phrase “teaching moment.” A failure can teach important lessons. What went wrong? What adjustments can be made next time? How can I better focus on the moment?

In some ways the errors are more important than the successes. I could cite examples, but my reader will be able to do the same and with more personal meaning.

In addition, there are helpful and not-so-helpful reactions for others when these things happen. One not-helpful reaction is to boo or hiss at the person who made the errant kick. The other is to offer condolences and support. Coaches know this, at least the good ones do. In the case of this young man I know, the pass/fail moment arrived early in his football career, and it didn’t go well. His coach took him to the field and played a game. The coach would throw the ball arbitrarily to some spot on the field, and the player was to run at top speed to the ball, place it in the tee, and kick it through the uprights. There were two purposes to the drill: 1), Get good and tired, and 2), kick, kick, kick.

The drill worked. The coach stuck with this young man and he started the very next game. He was perfect with every PAT attempt.

Life in general is often a challenge, and how one responds can be more important than the challenge itself. For all those kickers, I’m hoping that regardless of the outcome, you get a helpful response. For we who experience a heartbreaking setback in our task, let us get back to practice and to work. And for all of us who root loudly or silently for a friend or relative working to complete a challenging task, we can pass or fail, too.

--RJ Stewart