There’s an indelible image that’s lodged in my mind.
It comes from a Monday Night Football game between the Dallas Cowboys and the Philadelphia Eagles that took place several years ago.
In the second quarter of the game, the Eagles quarterback drops back and unleashes a majestic throw. The ball spirals sharply through the warm Texas night, landing in the arms of receiver DeSean Jackson as he’s running at full-stride 60 yards downfield near the goal line.
Jackson raises his arms in jubilation as he prepares for his touchdown celebration dance. He then points mockingly toward the Dallas fans and starts dancing in the end zone, just beyond the silver paint that reads COWBOYS.
It was a moment of sweet jubilation for Jackson — making a highlight-reel play on national television.
There was one problem. He didn’t have the ball.
When Jackson raised his arms, he was still two yards from the goal line. The ball popped backward out of his hand and bounded away behind him.
There was no touchdown. Just a fumble.
With all that dancing and gesturing, DeSean Jackson was only making a mockery of himself — on national television.
I’m captivated by this image. For it is the ultimate cautionary tale for our most obnoxious character flaw.
Premature celebration.
Our culture is built upon celebration.
As a capitalist society, we continually indoctrinate ourselves in the ethos of Taking what’s ours.
This ethos has had several iterations over the years.
First, pioneers and frontiersmen pushed their way west from the Atlantic to the Pacific, clearing swaths of forests and decimating native tribes to lay claim to the land.
Journalists of that era named the process Manifest Destiny — a term that whitewashed the true ugliness of what was going on. Out west, frontier life was punctuated by brutal acts of celebration.
Murderous bandits roamed the prairie, claiming ever bigger scores of gold and glory. Native tribesmen collected scalps off of their captives. And public hangings drew crowds of hundreds, even in one-horse towns.
In each case, someone was taking what was theirs, but at another’s expense. And they weren’t shy in letting the world know about it.
As the lawlessness of the west died down, a new revolution started back east. Stock and bond trading went from a side industry to the mainstream, turning Wall Street from a city street to a cultural icon.
Those who got rich in the early years of this movement weren’t afraid to flaunt their wealth. They dressed to the nines and threw extravagant parties. The era became known as The Roaring Twenties, and the roar was resonant — until the 1929 stock market crash brought an abrupt end to the party.
As America emerged from the Great Depression and the ensuing World War, the art of celebration went national for the first time. Radio and television programs made it from coast to coast, and Hollywood had more cultural influence than ever before. As new generation became infatuated with entertainment, our culture of celebration truly took root.
Now, what was once a campfire has erupted into a full-on inferno. Today, we focus less on what we accomplish and more on how we celebrate those accomplishments.
For that is how we’ll be judged. That is how we’ll be remembered.
And that, I assure you, that is what was running through the mind of DeSean Jackson when he foolishly dropped the ball two yards from glory.
Swim through the wall.
These four words sound like terrible advice — if you take them at face value.
After all, the water has plenty of give. It parts itself as we cut through it, as if beckoned by Moses’ staff.
The wall has no give. It stands as firm as the Himalayas, demanding deference.
But from a different perspective, what seems like folly is pure gold.
Yes, metaphorically, Swim through the wall means Don’t let up.
Or, more specifically: Achieve now. Celebrate later.
It’s simple advice. But that simplicity doesn’t make it any less effective.
DeSean Jackson could have used that advice on that warm Texas night all those years ago. But truth be told, we all could use that advice.
For the act of claiming victory is more foolish now than ever.
There is always more work to be done. In an era when information and collaboration travel digitally, the next challenge beckons around the corner.
Changing tastes make what’s acceptable today unacceptable tomorrow. Relentless innovation accelerates the demise of those who refuse to adapt. And the existential threat of violent extremism persists, no matter how relentlessly we beat it back.
Yet, it seems we can’t help ourselves. We can’t stop raising our arms in triumph and beating our chests, even as the goalposts for these issues drift ever further away.
Don’t believe me? Consider this.
There was a time when entertainers like R. Kelly, Bill Cosby, Michael Jackson and Kevin Spacey were the toast of the town. We talked about their brilliance and their talent — and turned the other way as they abused the power of their celebrity.
There was a time when quarterly earnings from Sears and Kodak drew news coverage. We made the Sears catalog a staple of our holiday shopping lists and planned around Kodak Moments — dismissing the notion that such references would ever be obsolete.
And there was a time we spoke of the end of segregation, the end of toxic radicalism, and the end of hate — conveniently forgetting that such troublesome ideas are like a Hydra, and don’t just die with the body they’re housed in.
Over and over we’ve declared victory too early. And in each case, the collateral damage was massive.
We should know better than this. We should recognize that life can rarely be placed into neat little boxes, each topped with a bow.
No, life is a messy, unpredictable journey. A constant parade of experiences and challenges to claw our way through. An abundant set of opportunities for us to pick ourselves up and reach for something greater.
We’re better off embracing that climb, and the inevitable change that comes with it. We’re better off preparing for what’s ahead than celebrating what’s imminent.
So, let’s not make a mockery of ourselves. Let’s not get egg on our face.
Timing is everything. Best to get it right.