REFLECTION
Think about the last time you used the word ‘hope.’ Try to remember all the times you heard the people around you use the word. It might have sounded something like this:
I hope it doesn’t rain.
I hope they didn’t run out of napkins.
I hope there’s no traffic on the freeway.
I hope they win today.
I hope they’re good this year.
When I was playing, my version was coming into camp each year, or even into the start of a new week during the season, and saying to myself, “I hope everyone put the work in” and “I hope the coaches are teaching us the right stuff.” Then I would think, well, we’re about to see, because the measuring stick of life is coming, in the form of competition, both for jobs and for wins.
Watching the Colts-Ravens preseason game this past Friday, I’m sure all the Colts fans were hoping that Anthony Richardson would be okay and their season wouldn’t be ruined after David Ojabo came unblocked off the edge and severely dislocated his finger.
What all these “hope” statements have in common is that the people saying them have absolutely no control over the outcome of any of them. You control the weather and the traffic like you control the play of your favorite team in a game or over the course of a season—which is to say, not at all.
When we say, “I hope…” this way, what we’re really saying is “I wish.” We are wishing, dreaming, wanting. We are not hoping.
Hope is different.
LESSON
Philosophers have talked about hope for thousands of years, but the modern scientific study of hope really only goes back to the 1960s. One of the pioneers in the field, a psychologist named Charles Snyder, defined hope as “the perceived capability to derive pathways to desired goals, and motivate oneself via agency thinking to use those pathways.”
In plain English, hope is about believing you can figure out how to achieve a goal, and that you can go out and do the damn thing. Hope is about taking action toward your goals, not simply wishing for them to come true.
Hope is active, not passive.
I learned this lesson for myself in 2010, which was a really eye-opening year for me as a quarterback. In 2007, we lost the Super Bowl to the Giants. Then I tore my ACL in the first game of the ‘08 season. In 2009, we lost a bunch of key defensive starters to trades and retirement, and our offensive coordinator, Josh McDaniels, left to coach the Broncos. We had a decent year, 10-6, and won the division, but we got beaten by the Ravens at home in the first round of the playoffs. It was not a great feeling.
To that point in my career, I’d approached my job as a player being coached by people who had a plan. I took orders and direction, like every other guy on the team, and I performed the best I could. But in 2010, with Bill O’Brien now in the OC role, and relatively new to the program, I felt like there was an opportunity to step up into more of a solutions-oriented leadership role and work together with Billy O to create a plan for the kind of season I hoped we could have. I fully trusted him and the rest of our coaching staff to have a good plan, obviously, but I also realized that, with my knowledge and experience, I could help make that plan even better if I was more actively involved. If I proactively communicated what I liked and didn’t like, what I had confidence in, what I knew worked and didn’t work. There could be no wishful thinking if we were going to achieve our goals as a team. No waiting around for the measuring stick of life to find us. We had to get to work making our hopes a reality, and this was how I felt I could better contribute. The result was a 14-2 record and a #1 seed.
There’s a famous saying that “hope is not a strategy.” It’s true. But hope does requirestrategy. It demands tactics and leadership, and a focus on process over outcome, because implied in the very definition of hope is action.
As a broadcaster, fifteen years removed from that 2010 season, my job now is to evaluate 32 teams who are going to compete for eighteen weeks to make the playoffs. Every one of those teams is hoping that they are going to be better than last year. They’re hoping that they stay healthy, that they win all their games, that they get the #1 seed. They’re hoping that they win the Super Bowl. Those are their goals.
Part of my evaluation process will be looking to see what actions each of these teams is taking to achieve those goals, and therefore if they actually have hope, or if it’s just wishful thinking. What are their strategies and tactics for getting better and winning their division? How are they keeping their guys healthy? Who is stepping up into leadership roles? What do their processes look like? Are they bringing in the right people with the right values that are aligned with all those goals?
If a team’s answers to those questions are lacking, I have some bad news for them. In my experience, that kind of “hope” lasts about half a quarter.
APPLICATION
All of that said, there is actual value in the wishful-thinking type of hope that most of us are used to describing in our lives. That kind of hope gives us a deeper clue into what we want, as well as to what we don’t want, or what we might be afraid of. It’s a wish list.
As parents, we hope for many things for our kids. We say, “I hope they learn their lesson” or “I hope they don’t make the same mistake I did.” We confide in friends and relatives that we hope they settle down and have kids of their own, or that they find a well-paying job, or that they become a good person, or that they don’t become a Jets fan. Statements like these can feel like passing thoughts or off-hand comments in the moment, but I actually think they’re pretty revealing about what we wish for.
There is a limit to the value of this wishful-thinking kind of hope, however. It’s when it stays passive and we don’t engage. Obviously, we don’t control the outcome of our children’s lives. Whether they learn the lesson, avoid the mistake, find “the one”, or make a million dollars, is going to be up to them. We can’t make it happen. But if we said “I trust…” instead of “I hope… every time we talked about the things we wanted for our kids, I think we can avoid that passivity trap because trust is a two-way street that requires action and engagement from both sides.
I trust they’re well.
I trust they’ve learned the lesson.
I trust they’ll find the right person.
I trust they’ll find their passion.
When we say that “we trust...”, we are acknowledging that we have some influence over our kids and that we’ve tried to do our part. And it’s in the recognition of that influence where actual hope resides, because we can meaningfully say, “I hope I had a positive influence on my children,” knowing that we developed strategies and took actions designed to achieve those outcomes.
Ultimately, true hope is about taking more agency in your life. Wishful thinking is good for guiding you toward what to do, but it’s hope that will show you how, when and why to do it. Just remember: the distance between your dreams and your destiny is defined by the actions you take, not the wishes you make.
