The Power of Being Yourself: A
Game Plan for Success by Putting Passion into Your Life and Work. By Joe
Plumeri. Da Capo. $14.99.
Chasing Perfection: A
Behind-the-Scenes Look at the High-Stakes Game of Creating an NBA Champion.
By Andy Glockner. Da Capo. $25.99.
The notion of “authenticity”
for success in the workplace is scarcely a new one, but motivational speaker
Joe Plumeri – who would prefer to be called “inspirational” – tries mightily to
reinvent it in The Power of Being
Yourself. Plumeri, former head of global insurer Willis Group and before
that a senior banking executive, suggests using the book in a collaborative
way, sharing it with friends and discussing its points among yourselves so
everyone will presumably benefit from Plumeri’s insights. The problem is that
the insights go nowhere beyond that of Shakespeare: “This above all: to thine
own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then
be false to any man.” And Shakespeare delivered those lines in Hamlet with a sly twist, having them
spoken by Polonius, whose wisdom was interspersed with matter-of-fact
observations and a tittle of nonsense. Plumeri’s urging of readers to find
their inner core and stick to it is given with no sense of irony whatsoever –
instead, it is overlaid with guilt. And that is ultimately what sets The Power of Being Yourself apart from many
other, otherwise very similar books. Plumeri offers heartfelt stories and a
series of anecdotes about personal experiences, the deepest and most
distressing of them being the death in 2008 of his oldest son, Christian, who
battled anorexia and drug addiction from age 13 and died at 39 from, Plumeri
says, an enlarged heart. Plumeri’s own heart seems to be a large one, in the
emotional rather than the medical sense, and he makes it clear again and again
that he holds himself greatly responsible for his son’s many failures and early
death – even though Plumeri rescued Chris again and again from a long series of
awful life choices, even to the point of raising Chris’ child when Chris could
no longer do so. “My son was a drug addict since he was thirteen years old. I
thought I did everything I could to help him, but obviously I didn’t do enough.
I did the things that were structurally correct, but I didn’t spend the time or
put in the emotion that I should have, and this is where I hope every reader of
this book is paying attention. …So I’m a living, breathing cautionary tale.”
Plumeri parlays this deeply distressing part of his life, with which readers
surely will empathize, into advice and exhortations that are far less involving
than the troubles underlying them. There are eight chapters encapsulating
Plumeri’s advice to find work-life balance, and only one is headlined “Let
Sadness Teach You,” but that is the main valuable message the book ultimately
provides. The rest of it is not so much about personal authenticity in one’s
career as it is about focusing on things beyond
work, realizing that work is not all there is to life and it is crucial to be
involved deeply in other things, family being paramount. This is scarcely
revelatory. Plumeri comes across as likable and, through much of the book, as
pleasantly upbeat despite the darkness in his family history. But readers seeking
anything new in their quest for accomplishment in the business world will not
find it here.
They may, though, find some
of it in Andy Glockner’s Chasing
Perfection – that is, if they can take the information in this
basketball-saturated book and use it for purposes beyond professional sports.
Glockner here writes about people whose approach to success is the opposite of
the one professed by Plumeri. There is nothing authentic whatsoever in these
players, coaches, managers, team owners or the people advising all of them –
there is only a set of objective data, collected and manipulated and squashed
and squeezed and extracted and applied in every possible way to the enormously
lucrative business of what some people laughably think of as a “game.” Really,
this is not a book about basketball, except incidentally – but unfortunately,
Glockner is a sports writer, and he
clearly cares a great deal about basketball, thus guaranteeing that any reader
who does not share the author’s predilections will find the book extraordinary
difficult to become involved in or even, at times, to follow. Really, there is
nothing particularly interesting in the umpteenth story about hugely overpaid professional
performers engaging in competitive feats against other hugely overpaid professional
performers. But there is a great deal that is fascinating about Big Data and
the way Big Sports is now using Big Information to make Big Money.
Old-fashioned basketball terms such as points, assists, rebounds and free-throw
percentage are not the point here: the new vocabulary, Glockner says, includes
gravity scores, offensive efficiency, real plus-minus, paint touches and more.
These are the words used in analyses by companies such as Kinduct, P3 (Peak
Performance Project), Second Spectrum, SportVU (which specializes in
motion-capture cameras), Synergy Sports Technology and the like. Teams that
have devoted themselves intensely to computer-based analytics have, Glockner
says, been among the most successful in recent years; Glockner’s specific
discussions of the San Antonio Spurs and Houston Rockets will interest
basketball fans. Those interested in how Big Data is affecting more of our
lives every day may be more intrigued by the reasoning behind the Rockets’
decision to sign James Harden, who had played rather fecklessly for the
Oklahoma City Thunder but whose numbers added up in a way that led the Rockets
to believe that, within their organization and within their playing style, he
could become a superstar – which he did. Then there is the story of the Atlanta
Hawks’ Kyle Korver, labeled by Glockner as the National Basketball
Association’s “most perfected player,” who spends summers working out at P3 so
the analysts there can fine-tune him. And yes, that sounds robotic, and that is
exactly the point. The Big Data approach – which permeates pro basketball and
other sports and is now being used at the college level as well – sees people
as collections of data, manipulable in much the same way that Andy Serkis could
be computer-manipulated to become Gollum in Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings films. There is no
emotion, no “heart” in Big Data – and there are some serious privacy concerns
as the information is used to track players’ health and help owners and
managers produce teams that are as strong as possible. Chasing Perfection raises some of these issues, and would be a far
better book, and one of far greater reach, if it explored them outside its very
limited context. But it is that context, professional basketball, that Glockner
really cares about, so he has written a book for super-fans who take pro sports
seriously and consider them meaningful – ignoring the genuinely serious and
meaningful societal context in which these “games” are increasingly making use
of minutiae of information, on whose basis there is a lot more riding than the
question of who beats whom for some sports championship or other.
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