[Ed. Note: Santa Pete is in game-rich Andes, running errands and attending swanky parties this weekend. In his absence, we proudly present commentary from the TW Tribe.]
While watching the Wimbledon Men’s Singles final on TV in July, my eight year-old daughter, Geneva, asked me in all seriousness, “Dad, do you think that one day I’ll be able to beat Roger Federer?”
Considering that I had told her many times in the past that “if you work hard enough, anything is possible,” how should I have answered her question? I could have told her the truth -- that even if she were to become the best female player in the world, she still wouldn’t have a chance at beating Roger. Alternately, I could have told her a lie; that one day she could, perhaps, beat one of the best male players in the history of the sport.
Hmm.. the answer just wasn’t that simplistic. I mean, after all, what if it’d been my son who had asked me the same question? Would I have hesitated just as long to answer? At least I wouldn’t have had to consider the physical divide between males and females and their comparative ceilings of tennis potential.
And then it hit me! Having told her repeatedly that any goal you set for yourself is always possible, why wouldn’t she want to know if I thought this particular goal was achievable? I was the one who had set the context for Geneva, and it was then that I realized that she might as well have been asking me if one day I thought she’d be a princess, an astronaut, or the President of The United States.
Of course, in abstract form, the particular concrete goal that she’d asked me about translated to: “Dad ,do you really think it’s possible to achieve the highest possible goals I set for myself? -- Or am I wasting my time trying?”
Now, bear in mind that I've never blurred the distinction between fantasy and reality, having explained to my own children, at the ages of two or three, the unreality of such things as tooth-fairies, scary monsters and Santa Claus.
I decided that Geneva’s ambitious goal, although a fantasy, was of an entirely different nature. Because I taught her to deal only in facts, instead of arbitrary notions like fairies and monsters, I knew she was well-equipped to eventually work out for herself the reality of the difference in physical limits between men and women, without me prematurely short-circuiting her lofty ambition.
So once again, I told Geneva that, with hard work, she could achieve any goal she set her mind to. And she was quite content with my answer. And that was that -- until I started taking a close interest in the posts and comments on TW.
