When I was 30 years old I was playing a fair bit of tennis--and was not very good--so decided to try some lessons.
I met my instructor one morning at 7 a.m. and we hit for about 10 minutes before he walked up to me and asked, “How old are you?”
"30."
“Well, if you were 20,” he said, “I’d force you to learn a two-handed backhand. And if you were 40 we wouldn't even bother-- I’d just work on improving the one-handed backhand you already have.”
“But,” he continued, “since you’re 30, I’m going to give you the choice. Which would you like to do?” Of course, that was his way of saying my backhand was pitiful and needed reconstructive work. He was also asking me, in a sense, if I’d reached the point of no return.
Next month, Starling Lawrence will step down as long-time editor-in-chief of WW Norton, the largest and oldest employee-owned publisher in the United States. He joined Norton in 1969 and became the top editor in 1993.
Lawrence, who is 68, commented, “I have certainly enjoyed this job. . .[but] I’m not particularly knowledgeable about electronic publishing. . .And frankly, if I were 20 years younger, it would be imperative that I understand and educate myself on those issues.” Then he added, “But that has seemed less important to me because I’m frankly not a consumer of e-books myself. It’s not something that touches me personally.”
This was Mr. Lawrence essentially saying to his tennis instructor, “You know, Bjorn, I think I’ll keep my one-handed backhand.” He’d reach the point of no return.
It's something that happens all the time, especially as you get older. For women, I suppose, there's that moment when they decide sometime in their 20s or 30s to cut their hair short. Or in their 40s or 50s or 60s to stop dyeing it. To look grown up, or their age, or something like that. I don't pretend to understand the phenomenon exactly, but I'm pretty sure it would be the fairer-sex equivalent of "a point of no return."
It seems everyone in cool, app-infested techland is wearing a hoodie these days, thanks to Facebook and Mark Zuckerberg. Investors in Silicon Valley even have cashmere hoodies.
I was in a Bob’s Store the other day looking at a rack of hoodies thinking, hmmm, everyone who’s anyone wears a hoodie these days. Maybe I should get one.
The last time I wore a hoodie, I think, I was about 12 years old and fishing with my Dad. The hoodie I have in mind might have had a Boston Patriots logo and would have had some combination of quahog guts and fish slime on it. And Almond Joy. (Thanks, Dad.)
I’m a big fan of electronic publishing, unlike Mr. Lawrence, but I get his point. I walked away from the hoodie rack, picked up a couple of polo shirts and some blue socks instead, and went on my way.
You see, hoodies are meant for 12-year-olds. Strike one. And, everyone is wearing them to be cool. Strike two. In my baseball game of life, those two strikes make for an out. Another point of no return.
By the way, after 3-seconds of slightly offended contemplation, I stuck with my one-handed backhand. To prove his point, I guess, my instructor then hit about 100 balls to my backhand, most of which I wafted into the net.
Shortly after that I fixed my backhand by stopping playing tennis altogether. I already had a horrendous golf game, and the Red Sox were many years from their World Series triumph. When a sport makes you miserable it’s time to find a new sport.
That’s a point of no return from which I have never looked back.
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