Ken Dryden's 1983 classic weaves a memoir of his hockey career around the narrative frame of one week late in his farewell season. He glides easily from commentary to recollection, each story illuminating another aspect of his thinking about leadership, teamwork, and life. I first read it in 2011 and thought it was great; I returned to it in 2014 and was moved enough to include it TOA's 'Life Changing Books' series. A year later, I mentioned it in my shortlist of "best books I've ever read".
Despite my prior rave reviews, improbably it seems that the third time is the charm in a certain sense - when I finished reading The Game in May, I gave serious consideration to buying books. It would be a fitting tribute for this book - the first that I started (rather than continued) reading during lockdown - because it lifted me out of a hugely problematic reading rut; I realized in the process that there is immense value in having my favorite books always within touching distance.
The Game by Ken Dryden (May 2020)
Dryden sets the tone early, noting that the distance of time or space often allows observers to see the clearest picture. He uses the vantage point afforded by his impending retirement to look around and understand his career, which had nearly hurtled past him during a dizzying, decorated decade. The most significant theme in the book is the idea that success can quickly become an enemy of future success. He points out that accomplished people are susceptible to losing patience for repeating the same grueling work that once took them to the summit; he observes how teams will explain away a slipping standard by appropriating excuses for poor performances, perhaps to cushion a fall only they can see coming. His most intriguing comment about this topic was that at the top of a profession qualities often become symptoms of each other (the generalized example being the Business Bro truism that an overused strength will eventually become a weakness).
Of course, even the most diligent, dedicated competitor will eventually come down from his or her perch. In sports, the realities of age are the great equalizer. Athletes inevitably reach a career stage where they are no longer able to continue improving, instead devoting their energies to maintaining a playing level; a few seasons later, merely breaking even becomes impossible. Dryden's exploration of this reality is the treasure chest of The Game, and suggests that the label of 'sports book' sets the wrong expectations. The inevitability of mourning the slow and steady accumulation of losses is the not merely a game, but the game of life; as a professional athlete he experienced the shuddering fact many decades earlier than the average person, and as a writer he brings us face-to-face with the reckoning.
The aspect of this book I've always found particularly relevant given my own interests is Dryden's wisdom about building strong teams. The observation that a great team must ultimately police itself is incredibly powerful, perhaps so much so that it will scare those who prefer discipline via rules, regulations, and policies. But a team is first and foremost about a shared feeling, one Dryden notes as being something those outside the group could not understand, and therefore nothing is better positioned to protect the team ethos than the equilibrium established by the team members. The most important consideration is one he expresses in this book using the language of laissez-faire economics - nonintervention is itself a form of intervention, and often brings about its own set of consequences.
There were a couple of stray ideas that caught my eye despite falling outside the larger arcs of the book. Dryden identifies unstructured and unorganized time as vital for developing creative skills, a comment made in the context of hockey that remains relevant in the widest application of the creativity concept. He also notes that the past can do no more than offer clues for how to return to successful ways, but never guidance; life changes far too quickly for recycling blueprints. Finally, I thought it was an important reminder that old age means requiring more time for everything - movement, conversation, even thinking. The failure to adapt within the confines of this reality is the most common challenge I've noticed when I've had the opportunity to train new hospice volunteers - particularly those around my age.
TOA Power Rating: Three penalty boxes out of four.
