Introduction
The
farmer opened the door with a suspicious look on his face. He looked at the group
up and down. “Okay ,” he said, “you can come in but don’t touch anything. And
don’t sit on my furniture.” He opened
the door wider and then said, “It will cost you five shillings apiece.”
Lopez’
heart sank. The other boys all pulled out their money without a moment’s
hesitation. Lopez reached into his pocket and felt that wonderful coin – the
first coin he had possessed in months. He had such plans for it. Lopez started
to tell the man, “Forget it,” and leave, but he did not want to walk the five
miles back to his tent all by himself. And he really wanted to find out what
made this thing called the Olympics so special that these boys would hand over
their hard-earned money so quickly.
Locals
filled the farmer’s living room. Every piece of furniture had someone on it.
Lopez looked around the living room. The Olympics was not what he had expected.
Apparently it consisted of a box with wires running out the back of it. The
wires were connected to a car battery. This is the Olympics? What is so special
about this?
The
farmer walked over and flipped a switch on the front of the box. Black, white,
and gray images flickered to life. The box was not the Olympics. It was
something that was on the screen.
The
boys all cheered. Lopez cheered with them. Unfortunately, soccer players did
not run out onto the screen – the only sport Lopez really understood. Instead,
the athletes stayed outside the big field in the middle, on a little road with
white lines drawn on it. They took their places behind a white line. A man held
up a gun. It fired. The guys on the screen took off running. Thousands upon
thousands of people filled the stands around the track. As the men ran, the
people screamed and carried on. When the winner crossed the finish line, the
crowd cheered even louder.
Watching
people run on television was a revelation for Lopez. Never before had he
thought of running as a sport. Running was his therapy, his release, his escape
from the world around him. Yet, in the Olympics, running was a sport. And
judging by the number of people in the stands, it was a popular sport. He was
mesmerized. He was fascinated.
The
highlight of the night was a race called the 400 meter dash. The announcers
talked about one runner in particular – a man named Michael Johnson. Lopez did
not know it at the time, but this was Michael’s final race, the capstone to one
of the most successful track careers of all time. All he knew was the camera
focused primarily on one man, a man with skin the color of his own. Across his
chest were three letters: USA.
The
runners took their mark. The gun sounded. Michael Johnson took off. He ran with
a very distinctive style: head up, back straight, everything about him screamed
confidence. Lopez thought: “I can run like that. I know that I can.”
Michael
Johnson flew around the track. He ran through the string at the end before
anyone else. The announcers said he’d just won the gold medal. Lopez was not
sure what that was. He took a flag from someone in the crowd, a flag with stars
and stripes on it. He wrapped himself in that flag with pride. He held it up and
ran a victory lap with it.
Then
something happened that astounded Lopez. The top three runners took their
places on a small platform. A man came up and placed medals around their necks.
Music began to play and flags rose up from behind the men. As the music played
and the flags rose, Michael Johnson did something African men never do – he
wept openly and without shame!
As
Lopez walked back to his tent, an idea hatched in his brain, an idea that
should have struck him as being ridiculous. In his mind’s eye, he watched
Michael Johnson run his race over and over again. Then and there, Lopez decided
that he would be an Olympian. Moreover, he wanted to run with those same three
letters across his chest: USA.
The
year was 2000 but there was a problem – Lopez was a 15 year old Sudanese
refugee, without parents, living in a refugee camp in Kenya.
Transition
A
study of basic management principles can be a rather dreary exercise. The
typical presentation sets forth a list of principles and – if you are lucky –
interlaces the principles with a couple of illustrations or humorous stories.
This presentation is completely different. I plan on telling a story – an
inspiring story. And from that story I will shamelessly borrow twenty-four basic
management principles. In effect, I intend to provide you with a fresh look at
basic management principles.
[1]
Lopez Lomong with Mark Tabb, Running for
My Life. Thomas Nelson Press, Nashville.
