I’m Dan Oshinsky, and I run Inbox Collective, an email consultancy. I'm here to share what I've learned about doing great work and building amazing teams.
“There is no great genius without some touch of madness.” — Seneca
So this is the part of the year where I lose touch with reality and start watching about 12 hours of college basketball a day.
It has always been like this. I love college basketball. I cannot really explain why I love it the most. I just do.
And this month is MY month. Six months watching these teams play, and then, in a week, in a day — it could all be over. Lose, and the season’s done.
But I love March for those moments when it’s all on the line. Like this moment: This was the game-winning shot hit by Valparaiso in the Horizon League tournament this week. This shot saved their season.
An awesome shot, right?
Now take a closer look at their coach, though. Watch his reaction.
Their coach’s name is Bryce Drew. Maybe that name rings a bell? It’s because he’s also the man responsible for this shot:
Bryce Drew hit one of the most famous shots in college basketball history. But there he was, in a game against Green Bay, played in front of just a few thousand fans, still losing it over the chance to play one more day.
In March, we remember: You play today, but you really play for the chance to play again tomorrow. Tomorrow is offered, but in March, it’s never guaranteed.
Every month — except last month, when I forgot (sorry) — I put together a list of 10 things to inspire you to do more awesome work. (Results may vary.)
Inside this month’s Awesome File: Jerry Seinfeld appears on a rap album! Parody songs about sex with ducks! Strategies for getting on “The Price is Right”!
Let’s get into it:
1. This Awesome Tumblr
I’m kicking myself for not thinking of this myself: The Kanye West Wing, a Tumblr that mashes up Kanye lyrics with “West Wing” screencaps. It’s excellent.
“Whatever you believe / You might be wrong.” — Paul Thorn
When I was in college, I was part of a small group of journalism students who took classes that were basically about the Internet. This was 2005 or so. Journalism on the Internet wasn’t new, but it was for journalism schools.
Anyway, we spent a lot of time in class talking about things that seem funny now. Was Facebook journalism? Was blogging?
Again: It was 2005.
But one thing was made very clear to me by my professors, and by pretty much every professional person I knew: We had to be careful about what we posted online. If we weren’t vigilant, we’d never get a job in the real journalism world!
And I could go on and on. Just know: All of that comes from respected, professional, important people who make stuff in our world.
Point is: Whatever the experts are telling you, there’s a good chance they’re wrong. Seven years ago, every professional journalist in the world would’ve told you that professionalism came first. That keeping the appearance of seriousness mattered.
It turned out that they were wrong. Newspapers might’ve been built for professional-looking/sounding reporters, but the web is a wonderful place where strange/eccentric/bizarre people flourish. Weirdness is celebrated here.
Anyway, if someone tells you something’s for certain, there’s a good chance they’re wrong. Don’t blindly accept the advice of experts. Question them. Challenge them.
“I’d like to suggest that the greatest risk we face these days is that of an unlived life.” — Jeff Goins
It’s 10 p.m., and I get home from a full day of watching football. My apartment faces the street here in New York. I hear a marching band.
A full-on, trumpets and tubas and drums marching band. At 10 p.m. On a Sunday.
I grab a coat and go back outside. I want to see what the hell is happening.
And I get outside, and it’s suddenly quiet. I start walking toward where I’d heard the sound. It’s gone.
And then I see this crowd up ahead. They’re outside a diner.
Inside the diner, there’s a 10-piece marching band, suddenly commandeering the restaurant. (That’s them in the photo above.)
And inside, they dance and they play, for reasons that no one can quite explain to me. And that’s okay.
Just the celebration itself is kind of wonderful.
I decide to go explore a little. I walk around the corner in search of a bite. There’s a hot dog place across the street that I notice for the first time. It’s in the basement of a building.
I pop in. I order a dog.
There’s a big crowd of people near the door. They’re just waiting at some tables. They don’t appear to be waiting for food.
I’m puzzled.
And then I see them start to walk towards this hole in the wall. Must be the line for the bathroom, I think.
I get closer. It’s not a hole in the wall — it’s a phone booth. And the back wall of the booth is suddenly missing.
And on the other side of the booth, there’s a tiny, hidden bar. A speakeasy, hidden inside phone booth inside a hot dog stand.
I could have lived here for a decade and never known it was there. But tonight, by accident, I stumbled upon a little secret place.
And I think now: Sometimes, you have to chase a sound you can’t hear, or a craving you have. Sometimes, those things lead you to the most unexpected, most wonderful ends.
“The NFL isn’t a career — it’s an experience. Most careers last 40-50 years, and people grow old in them.” — Alfred Morris
Two things got me thinking:
The first is that quote, at top. It’s from Alfred Morris, the rookie running back for the Washington Redskins. (That’s a photo of him sleeping on the couch. He still sleeps on the couch when he visits his parents.)
NFL players don’t usually have that kind of awareness, but Morris really seems to understand what’s happening in his life. The NFL is something most players have worked for since they hit puberty. It’s all they’ve worked for. The idea that it wouldn’t be forever is…. well, impossible.
Understanding what the NFL is — a job, an experience — and what it is not — a career, a lifestyle — is going to change everything for Morris. It’s going to let him make the most of this incredible opportunity.
But most of us can’t tell the difference between what is big, and what is not. We see a half an inch of water and we tell ourselves we’re going to drown. We hit a bump and think it’s a mountain.
We lack perspective, and that’s one thing we need most to understand the road we’re on and the places we’re headed.
There’s a second thing. I had a Latin teacher in high school, Miss Cherry. One of her quotes comes to mind now: Ars longa, vita brevis.
Art is long, but life is short.
And in high school, I remember thinking: What the hell is that? Art is long?
LONG?!
But that’s exactly what Morris is talking about, too. It’s this idea that some things are forever, and some things fade away.
The memories are long, but the job is short.
The ambitions are long, but the opportunities are short.
We work to build things that are long — but ultimately, the one thing we know is that the chances to make them are short.
Make things now, with the time you have now. To wait is to discover that now is very, very short.
Here’s a section from part of the Lakers’ playoff run that season. Jackson had been critical of Shaq’s free throw shooting abilities. (That playoffs, he shot 109 of 254 from the line.) Here’s what Jackson had to say about one pre-game effort:
“The press made a big deal out of [Shaq’s] dedication, showing up at the arena today three hours before tip-off to work on his free throws. To me it was no big deal. That was exactly what Shaq, as a professional, should be doing.”
And… he’s absolutely right.
Where else but in sports do we hear about how hard people practice? We don’t praise the coders who spend weekends diving into the craft. We don’t compliment the writer who stays up late working on drafts that never get read.
“Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.” — Jim Valvano
I have seen Jim Valvano’s speech at the ESPYs 100 times now. Maybe more. Probably far more, actually.
I’ve seen it on TV, and I’ve watched it for inspiration on my laptop. I once saw it played on the JumboTron at Madison Square Garden — even the beer vendors stopped for 10 minutes to watch.
It is, simply, one of the most marvelous, most inspiring, most deeply human things I have ever seen.
And for people like me — namely, people who enjoy public speaking — it’s a speech that can be watched over and over. I’ve studied it. I’ve wondered: How does he command a room like that? How does he deliver a speech like that?
Three things stand out to me about the speech:
1. His Poise on Stage — People forget this, but at the start of the speech, Jimmy V tells an opening joke about Dick Vitale — and it bombs! But he presses on. His facial expressions, his voice — they never waver in this speech. He demands attention with his voice, and he commands the stage by moving left to right, pointing at the crowd, throwing his arms around. He owns that stage. He’s got a few scripted lines ready, but mostly, he’s talking off the cuff. That really resonates here.
And when the ESPN cameras try to get him off the stage, and he tells them to screw off? That’s a raw moment in which Jimmy V wins the room. That’s the moment when the speech tips from great to epic.
2. His Use of Rhetorical Devices — He does two great things here. The first is his use of the Rutgers anecdote. It takes up the middle chunk of the speech, but it’s got a killer closing line, and it really humanizes him. For a few minutes, you get to forget that this is a guy who’s dying of cancer. For a few minutes, he’s a coach — speaking to a room of athletes and coaches, and a nation of fans watching on TV.
He also breaks out two great sets of three: “If you laugh, you think, you cry, that’s a full day,” and “[Cancer] cannot touch my mind. It cannot touch my heart. It cannot touch my soul.” Orators know: If you want to connect with someone, do it with a series of three.
3. The Call to Action — And here’s what so many speeches miss. So many speakers deliver great moments. They make the audience laugh. They make the audience think.
And then they walk off.
Jimmy V doesn’t. He closes with the biggest thing: A call to action. Donate, he says, to my new foundation. Help us find a cure. It will not save my life, but it may save yours.
The call to action is the reason why ESPN can play this speech every single year during their Jimmy V Week. Every year, even though us sports fans have seen the speech more times than we can count, Jimmy V asks us to donate.
Nearly twenty years after he first gave the speech, we still can’t say no to Jimmy V. The speech is just that great.
“The things we create tower over us.” — Matt Dopkiss
I was watching an old college football game on ESPN Classic the other day. It was from the 80s.
My mom walked into the room.
“What’s the score?” she asked.
Not sure, I told her.
“How much time is left?” she asked.
No idea, I confessed.
“How many yards do they need for a first down?” she asked.
Uhhhhhh, I said.
There was no on-screen scoreboard. There was no clock. There was no yellow first-and-10 line.
I’d been watching this game for 15 minutes, and I hadn’t the slightest idea what I was looking at. I had a football game in front of me, that much I knew, but I didn’t have any context to understand it.
Early football games — and when I say early, I mean “as recently as 20 years ago” — didn’t give viewers even the most basic information on screen. And as a result, viewers like me often got left in the dark.
