I was ready for action.
I was in first grade, preparing for a soccer game in gym class.
One of our teachers — a man from Kenya — was serving as our coach. But there weren’t enough students to field full sides, so he and another teacher joined in the game.
I had never played soccer before, so I was slotted on defense. My job was to stay on one side of the goal — an open space marked by two construction cones — and get in the way of any attacks by the opposing players. There were no goalies, so the two defenders were the last line of protection.
As he gave me my assignment, the coach looked me directly in the eye.
One more thing, he said. Use only your feet. Do not use your hands.
I headed to my position, growing ever more nervous by the step. I wasn’t accustomed to doing everything with my feet. What if instinct set in, and I used my hands? What kind of trouble would I be in then?
Those fears quickly subsided as the game got underway. Ahead of me, the midfielders and forwards abandoned their positions, converging in a pack around the ball. The coach and the other teacher were in the fray too, with eager 7-year-olds flanking them on all sides in the midfield.
Back by the orange construction cones, I stood at my position, bored to tears. Instead of playing soccer, I seemed to be watching it.
That scrum of activity 20 feet ahead of me seemed to be where the action was. I wanted to be a part of it.
So I ran forward, intent on getting to the ball. But just as I got there, someone on the other team found a lane toward our goal.
I ran back toward my position, but I was a good five steps behind this player. Unimpeded, they took their shot — only to be foiled by the other defender, who was still in position.
Hey, the defender told me. Stay here! This is why we’re supposed to stay back here.
I nodded sheepishly and stayed in my position for the rest of the game.
There is a phrase in the military called Tip of the Spear.
It refers to the first units to enter a war zone. To the professionals who are closest to the action.
There is a certain aura around this term.
The tip of the spear is the strongest and sharpest part of the weapon. It’s indispensable.
Much like the actual weapon edge, the soldiers, sailors and pilots worthy of this description are battle-tested. They have a perspective that is as unique as it is invaluable.
The term is so poignant that it’s made its way into the civilian world in which I operate.
Even beyond the military, those at the tip of the spear are lionized as innovators and world-changers. They’re action-oriented and decisive. They represent the objective we should aspire toward.
These trailblazers have influenced many of us over the years. Myself included.
As a child, I often heard the question What do you want to be when you grow up? Like many kids, I had no idea. So I would vary my answers.
A firefighter. An astronaut. A truck driver. A baseball player. A movie director.
Looking back, these answers look as disparate as they were desperate. Some of these careers would be hard to break into. Others wouldn’t pay all that well, or would include a demanding schedule.
But these varying career aspirations had one thing in common. They would all allow me to be at the tip of the spear. To be in the middle of the action.
By the time I was in college, I had set my sights on the broadcast television industry. I graduated with a degree in communications, and set off into my new career as a TV news producer.
Here was my chance to be in the middle of it all. To provide people the information they needed to navigate their community. To be at the tip of the spear, at long last.
It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
I quickly discovered that I was producing the least-viewed newscast in the region, in a town full of roughnecks and ranch hands. I got more calls about the wrong episode of Jeopardy airing on our channel than I got news tips.
The hours were rough and I worked most holidays. And on many days, the news was light or inconsequential.
When there was action to cover, it was often sobering. Wildfires burning thousands of acres of prairie. Shootings. Robberies. And a collision between a train and a parade float that left four Purple Heart recipients dead.
It was that last incident that really got to me. I broke that story on the local news, and soon national news correspondents were covering it. I had reached peak tip of the spear status. And yet, I felt broken.
That night, I cried myself to sleep. And in the days and weeks afterward, I questioned everything. My contract was expiring, and I needed to reevaluate not only my career choice, but also the rationale behind it.
The results were drastic. I rebooted both my career and the sense of purpose underlying it. No longer would I be demand to be where the action was. Fading into the background would be just fine by me.
My decision to switch careers was the right one. But that didn’t make it any easier.
For one thing, I was abandoning the field that I’d gotten my education in. The role I’d trained for and toiled at for years was now fading into my rearview mirror.
It was a heck of a sunk cost to cast off.
But beyond that sobering truth lay another. I was turning my back on what society expected of me.
All those years pursuing the tip of the spear had not gotten me the satisfaction I was hoping for. And yet, going another direction made me feel like a pariah.
I’m not alone in this dilemma. Many of us are torn between what’s expected of us and what best suits us. Especially when the choice is between the glory of the action and the obscurity of the shadows.
But we should not let the trappings of tradition blind us to the truth. The tip of the spear is not for everyone. And there is no shame in taking a supporting role.
After all, the supporting shaft of the spear is what makes the weapon so lethal. It provides the inertia to send the spear hurtling toward the target.
So, no. Taking a step back from the fray isn’t cowardly. It’s anything but.
It’s time that we recognize that fact.