How many times have we heard someone ask the following?
Do you think (insert coach or athlete here) will be able to get it done at (enter school here)?
Another variation comes in the form of a statement. It sounds like this: I don’t think (insert coach or athlete here) will get it done at (enter school here) or I don’t think (insert coach or athlete) is getting it done at (insert school here).
It’s what everyone says when there’s a new coaching hire or when a top recruit signs with a program or when we wonder about someone’s potential.
We’ve all likely said it at some point. We can’t help ourselves. Our curiosity and expectations get the best of us when we want answers to a future result. When someone “gets it done” once we want to know when he or she will “get it done” again.
What does “getting it done” mean, anyway? Does it mean winning the NCAA championships? Does it mean multiple All-American honors? Does it mean a coach leads his or her team to a trophy?
Nobody can clearly articulate what “getting it done” means since everyone’s definition of “getting it done” is different. “Getting it done” at Penn State is in stark contrast to “getting it done” at Sacred Heart.
The Nittany Lions placed second at this year’s NCAA Championships with four champions. Did they “get it done?”
The Pioneers had their first national qualifier since 2007. Did they “get it done?”
The answer is contextual and subjective, of course — but we always wonder and we always ask.
Maybe a coach “gets it done” by placing in the top four at the NCAA Championships but falls outside of the top 10 the next several seasons and fans wonder why “he can’t get it done anymore.”
Or, a coach wins a national team title, and expectations begin to exceed output. People wonder when he will “get it done again.”
Former Minnesota coach J Robinson knows all about that. He “got it done” in 2007 by winning his third national championship in seven seasons. The Golden Gophers placed 10th the following year with virtually everyone back. Minnesota fans wondered why Robinson “couldn’t get it done” with such an exceptional team even though they had never experienced “getting it done” before he arrived.
It’s kind of like someone asking if a wrestler can make a deep run at the national championships. What’s a deep run? Does that mean making the quarterfinals? Semifinals? Finals?
What if a wrestler loses in the first round but wrestles back for third. Is that a deep run, or does a deep run only include the championship side of the bracket?
You see, fans typically know what they want in theory, but they rarely know what it takes to actually “get it done.” “Getting it done” — whatever that might be — is impossibly difficult.
Think of all the high school wrestlers who say they want to be a four-time national champion and an Olympic gold medalist. It’s the new standard line for an ambitious prep wrestler.
If that’s the goal, then only one human being has ever “got it done.” Cael Sanderson won four national championships at Iowa State from 1999-2002 and an Olympic gold medal in 2004. Kyle Dake could “get it done” this year, which would double the number of people who actually “got it done.”
No one has “gotten it done” if it means winning four NCAA titles, a World Championship, and an Olympic gold medal — although Dake could “get it done” at the Olympics.
If “getting it done” means winning an Olympic gold medal then only 32 Americans since 1960 can say “they got it done.”
“Getting it done” will always be relative, but those who actually “got it done” are a different breed. They breathe in the same air as the rest of us but they exhale something completely different.
It’s one thing to say. It’s another thing to do.
(This column first appeared in WIN Magazine. To subscribe, go to WIN-Magazine.com or call 888-305-0606.)