One of my favorite moments from Michael Lewis' Moneyball is how Billy Beane's introduces Lenny Dykstra:
> Physically, Lenny didn’t belong in the same league with him. He was half Billy’s size, and had a fraction of Billy’s promise—which is why the Mets hadn’t drafted him until the thirteenth round. Mentally, Lenny was superior, which was odd considering Lenny wasn’t what you’d call a student of the game. Billy remembers sitting with Lenny in a Mets dugout watching the opposing pitcher warm up. “Lenny says, ‘So who’s that big dumb ass out there on the hill?’ And I say, ‘Lenny, you’re kidding me, right? That’s Steve Carlton. He’s maybe the greatest left-hander in the history of the game.’ Lenny says, ‘Oh yeah! I knew that!’ He sits there for a minute and says, “So, what’s he got?’ And I say, ‘Lenny, come on. Steve Carlton. He’s got heat and also maybe the nastiest slider ever.’ And in. Finally he just says, ‘Shit, I’ll stick him.’ I’m sitting there thinking, that’s a magazine cover out there on the hill and all Lenny can think is that he’ll stick him.
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A little backstory. Billy Beane was a phenomenal baseball prospect that only ever flirted with the major league. As opposed to Lenny Dykstra -- who had very little in expectations as a prospect -- became a 3x All-Star Outfielder, won a Silver Slugger (1993, OF), MVP Runner-up (1993) and a World Series Champion with the 1986 Mets during a 14 year career.
Of course the, Beane\Lewis caricature of Dykstra is merely anecdotal, but it falls in line with the anecdotes at the end of this article. I won't further perpetuate the characterization, but it does seem like there's a _je ne sais quoi?_ ability that allows someone to focus on a task by eliminating all distractions and situational qualifications. Maybe ignorance helps out, but I get the feeling that it has very little to due with long term success.
> Physically, Lenny didn’t belong in the same league with him. He was half Billy’s size, and had a fraction of Billy’s promise—which is why the Mets hadn’t drafted him until the thirteenth round. Mentally, Lenny was superior, which was odd considering Lenny wasn’t what you’d call a student of the game. Billy remembers sitting with Lenny in a Mets dugout watching the opposing pitcher warm up. “Lenny says, ‘So who’s that big dumb ass out there on the hill?’ And I say, ‘Lenny, you’re kidding me, right? That’s Steve Carlton. He’s maybe the greatest left-hander in the history of the game.’ Lenny says, ‘Oh yeah! I knew that!’ He sits there for a minute and says, “So, what’s he got?’ And I say, ‘Lenny, come on. Steve Carlton. He’s got heat and also maybe the nastiest slider ever.’ And in. Finally he just says, ‘Shit, I’ll stick him.’ I’m sitting there thinking, that’s a magazine cover out there on the hill and all Lenny can think is that he’ll stick him.
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A little backstory. Billy Beane was a phenomenal baseball prospect that only ever flirted with the major league. As opposed to Lenny Dykstra -- who had very little in expectations as a prospect -- became a 3x All-Star Outfielder, won a Silver Slugger (1993, OF), MVP Runner-up (1993) and a World Series Champion with the 1986 Mets during a 14 year career.
Of course the, Beane\Lewis caricature of Dykstra is merely anecdotal, but it falls in line with the anecdotes at the end of this article. I won't further perpetuate the characterization, but it does seem like there's a _je ne sais quoi?_ ability that allows someone to focus on a task by eliminating all distractions and situational qualifications. Maybe ignorance helps out, but I get the feeling that it has very little to due with long term success.