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Maurice Flitcroft was a crane operator working at a shipyard in North-East England. He was 44 years old in October 1974 when he did something ordinary. He watched a golf tournament. Nobody knew that watching that tournament that afternoon in front of his brand-new color-tv would be a life-changing event. It was the day when Maurice decided to become a golfer… one who would write history.
[Read more…] about What can we learn from the “Phantom of the Open”?
I was in a complete panic … sweaty, jittery, and close to throwing up … when I entered the audition stage in Singapore on a Thursday afternoon in March 2012. I had gone to the wrong venue initially and only made my audition slot with a desperate 1km sprint in tropical conditions. The 5 judges invited me to take a seat and told me they were ready whenever I was.
All my life I’ve had this dream. I wanted to play an instrument, bringing people together and have them sing along with a smile on their faces. And, all my life I had stood on many stages, usually slightly tipsy, telling myself one day I would be a musician too. But sadly, I did not do anything about it.
My good friend Sascha discovered my longing and during Christmas 2010, he bought me a guitar. But a busy job and terrible experiences during my singing lessons kept me from progressing at all towards my dream. (Sascha surely remembers my desperate attempts at rendering Hotel California, which made my singing teacher resign).
It was not until the end of 2011 when I suddenly discovered a perceived short cut… the ukulele. With only 4 strings, I was relatively quickly able to play 4-5 songs. As part of my self-discovery and self-expression journey, I thought it was time to do some busking. “Naive” is probably far too nice a word to describe my expectations.
It was on the first of November 2012, nearly 10 years ago, when Margaret McCollum was on her regular journey home via the London Underground subway system. As usual, she stopped at embankment station. Standing on the platform, she was listening for something very specific. It didn’t come. She was shocked and later described the moment as being “horrifying and completely, utterly devastating.”
What about not hearing a particular sound had been so distressing?
Last September, I started an online course on “psychological research for practicing therapists.” It was supposed to take me no more than 20 hours and teach me “skills and abilities of the social science researcher” as part of my journey towards becoming a Psychotherapist.
I quickly worked through the course materials and passed the test. But then I had to write an essay. When I submitted my essay at the beginning of November, I’d probably spent 30 hours on the course. I thought I was done. But I was clearly not done, and a substantial lesson was to be learned.
The essay grader was happy about the first part, but did not pass the second. I had to provide further depth and added resources to my suggested mock-research project. I was diligent. I spent at least another 20 hours studying, rewriting, and upgrading my essay. I submitted it again at the beginning of January and I thought that was certainly the end of it. But within a few weeks I got the grader’s feedback. Not passed! There were “still some issues with this proposal.”
I’ll spare you the details, but I was frantic. I spent another 20 hours not only revising, but writing, a completely new research proposal. I shared it with my supervisor but his feedback was not very positive..
Now, I was really on edge. I’d spent more than 60 hours on a course which was supposed to take me only 20 hours, and I still did not have a proposal that would get a passing grade. I had enough! I rather angrily put the proposal to the side in complete despair.
It was a cold and rainy day in April, 1984, when 17-year-old Petr Svoboda made a life-changing decision. Together with his Czechoslovakian National U18 Ice hockey teammates, he had just beaten Sweden 4-2 in the final round of the European Championships. As teammates and coaches were celebrating the important win in the dressing room, he quietly took his few belongings, his umbrella, and walked out on his old life. He defected. He escaped to the West, as his biggest dream was to play in the National Hockey League (NHL) in America and Canada.
This step was not only courageous, it had severe consequences. The communist regime in Czechoslovakia took immediate revenge. Both his parents, who worked in good jobs, were fired and placed under substantial scrutiny by the authorities from that point on. With the Iron curtain firmly closed in the mid-eighties, there was literally zero clarity around whether Petr would ever see his parents again.
