Making Progress Part 2: Baby Steps

[pete]

You were so close, John. So fuckin' close. Twice your chance was right there and you didn't take it.



Then again that's the story of your life, isn't it? You're the 'almost' guy. Like 'almost' getting Jenny in sixth grade to be your girlfriend - except Kevin Hardaway had a less stupid name and a racing bike. Or 'almost' getting promoted to manager at Applebee's - until the owner's nephew needed a job. Or 'almost' being one of the last few guys in the battle royale last week - until you let your guard down, became too intense, too involved.



That's you, Johnny. The never-was. The almost-was. The loser with the stupid name who no one likes. 'John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, your name is my name too...'



'John! FOCUS! Remember what we're working on!'



The voice of my Tai-Chi teacher rises over the primal scream escaping my lips, and I try to do as she says. This lady is actually all right - almost as straight a shooter as Dr. Everhardt, though not as hot. I'm surprised at how much I like her - I expected her to be some dumb bitch, like every other woman I know, but she's actually tryin' to help me. An' what's more, it's working.



I try to refocus my energy and use it towards positive ends. Instead of dwelling on my two defeats - but c'mon, TWO defeats in one night? - no, I can't be doin' this, I gotta think positive. Focus, Johnny boy. Don't think about what's in the past. Focus on Jordan Caliban. That's your main threat right now. That's the guy you wanna overtake. And he's shown that he's no pushover. So none of this puttin' yourself down bullshit. You're the man. You've gone from curtain jerker to midcard guy in what, two weeks? That takes game, kid. And you got game.



'Yeah...I got game!'



'What was that, John?'



Shit. Did I say that out loud? I must've.



'Nothin'. Just thinkin' out loud.'



'Well, you're doing very well with your energy redirection today. I'm impressed.'



Whoa. That felt good. She sounded like she meant it, too. As I said, no bullshit from this lady. I like her.



'Well, thanks' I'm genuinely smiling like a goofball. What the fuck?! 'I think I'm gettin' the hang of it.'



'So you are. What did you use as a target?'



'My next match.'



'Mmm. I see. Important?'



'Yeah.' I shrug, trying to underplay it. 'Kinda.'



She nods her head. 'Well, you keep focusing.'



She starts to walk away, then stops and turns back to face me. 'How are we doing with the chanting thing?'



'So-so.' It's the truth. It's been worse, but I still wish they'd stop fucking chanting that stupid song.



She smiles. 'Don't worry. You'll get there eventually. Baby steps.'



Normally, a shit-eating grin like that would have made me want to knock the person's fucking teeth in. But with her, it works. It works because I know she means it, and I know it does take baby steps, and I've been realizin' that yeah, I can get there. And when I do, look out world.



But, baby steps. One at a time. My first baby step is Jordan Caliban. And I don't want to trip on the first rung.



I screw my eyes shut tighter and concentrate as hard as I can. I'm comin' for you, Caliban. And it's not some stupid chant that's going to stop me.