Managing Elephants

By Ronald N. Guy Jr.

A young rookie quarterback commands the room.  The hype doesn’t faze a talented freshman.  One team ignores injuries and plays on; another appears unburdened in its historical pursuit.  A coach trudges on despite personal catastrophe.  A college athlete achieves greatness despite a heart broken by a tragedy.  And a massive mammal sits in a room unnoticed.

It’s a brain scramble.  Where is this going?  Does the writer even know (maybe?).  A long time ago, I considered renaming this column “Burying the Lede”, an admission of a chronic tendency to break a basic rule of good writing (and hoping readers endure until you mercifully get to the point).  I probably should have gone with it; oh well, another “View From The Bleachers” will have to do.

“He’s always the same.”  My dad and I would inevitably say it at some point during every game last fall.  Win or lose.  No matter the flow of the game.  Regardless of the success or adversity.  Other than a little touchdown dance or brief primal scream after a big play, his facial expression was calm and his nonverbals were relaxed.  Was he in an epic NFL struggle or having tea on an idyllic spring afternoon?  That was the Jayden Daniels experience, Washington’s 24-year-old rookie quarterback with the poise of a 10-year veteran.

I hate Duke basketball; my son loves it.  I don’t know where I went wrong.  But for the sake of our relationship, I watch Duke games with him.  I must love him.  Anyway, Cooper Flagg, the super-hyped, all-everything phenom who’s likely top overall pick in the 2025 NBA Draft, headlined another stellar Duke recruiting class last year.  My adorable offspring told me all about him.  Fueled by decades of obnoxious Duke hype, I was skeptical.  And wrong.  He scores, drops dimes, grabs boards, gives you a block and steal here and there.  He’s good.  Really good.

The Detroit Lions won a lot of games this year - fifteen to be exact.  This despite their defense being ravaged by injury – an astonishing 13 defensive players on injured reserve by week 18.  To quantify that reality, consider: the NFL roster limit is 53 with roughly 25 allocated for defense.  Easy but brutal math for Detroit.  Meanwhile, the Kansas City Chiefs carried the dual burden of being champions and attempting NFL history: an unprecedented third straight Super Bowl win. They shrugged at the pressure and ripped off 15 wins too. 

Unfortunately, it gets serious now.  Lakers head coach J.J. Reddick lost his home in the California wildfires, a tragedy of unimaginable scope.  He coached on.  Jack Bech caught the winning touchdown and was named MVP in last weekend’s Senior Bowl; his brother was killed in the New Orleans vehicle attack on New Year’s Day.  Broken hearts beat strong.

When there’s an elephant in the room, introduce it - sound life advice whenever there is a significant issue gnawing at a relationship or undermining a team.  Hit it head on.  Clear the air.  Blissful ignorance is impossible and will only cause the situation to fester.  So, embrace the elephant; give it center stage. 

Two very different types of elephants lurk in this piece.  Let’s take the sports stuff first, where the giant mammals were ignored.  Daniels, in all his youth and inexperience, could have been overwhelmed by the immediate franchise savior anointing.  Flagg, too, would have been excused for blinking under the blinding light of Duke basketball and the hype around his arrival.  Detroit and Kansas City both ignored their ready-made reasons for regression.  Excuse elephants?  Where?

As for Reddick and Bech, what can be said?  They certainly aren’t ignoring their massive elephants.  How could they?  Both are dealing with awful, inescapable circumstances.  Instead, they compartmentalized their tragic, giant guests.  Sit there and don’t move, you beast.  I have work to do; no interruption allowed.  It’s an inspirational mental victory. 

In all, it left me rethinking the elephant analogy: when dealing with significant challenge – professional pressure, expectations or tragedy – sometimes the humans, buoyed by remarkable strength, are the illuminated giants, while the metaphorical beast is left cloaked in a dark corner, controlled and appropriately without introduction.