Hustle Stands Alone

It is the vastly underrated element of the uncommon that still manages to exist in the ever-present era of the superstar. Hustle is the contribution that occurs behind the scenes of the highlight, seemingly undercover to the everyday gym member on the elliptical while staring at the tube. While hustle makes the good great and the great elite, the beauty of hustle is that the one from which it is expended doesn’t have to score twenty-five a night or have an elite salary or status to possess it or make it tangible.

Expenditure of hustle is mostly equated in the sporting arena, to what the game of football takes pride in teaching. An offensive lineman is taught to “cover,” or follow the play, after a pass is thrown down field, in the hopes of either throwing a vital block or recovering a fumble. Ending up in the right place at the right time is not a matter of luck, but is rather a matter of making your own luck, by increasing the odds of, well, ending up at that right place at that right time.

It is amazing how just a dash of this dynamic returning to the recipe of a team can reverse underachievement and kick-start instant success. This is what Matt Barnes brings to the Lakers, and aside from the resurgence of Andrew Bynum, is mostly why they have turned the corner as of late.  The Lakers have posted a record of 11-1 since the all-star break. While not tangible in the standards of points, rebounds and assists, what hustle adds to the equation of winning is immeasurable.

This rings true when considering the marginally celebrated legends of players like Michael Cooper, Bruce Bowen and Dennis Rodman – players on championship teams that contributed more than what might have been hyped by the mainstream media. Their contributions have always been graded not by the numbers of tallies in a box score, but by the number of high-fives in the locker room from teammates after a big win.

There are many descriptions that define this quality of hustle: scrappy, anticipating passing lanes, losing skin from diving on the floor, tipping rebounds to yourself and to teammates, unselfishness, making the extra pass, beating your man down the court in transition, and helping relay an offensive or defensive strategy to the rest of your teammates. These are just a few “hustle” qualities that have earned many under-talented players substantial playing time at any level of the game.

These dynamics are what essentially makes championship-level greatness an avalanche of something even more, a constant flowing of dynasty-continuance for a legendary team.  Guys like Matt Barnes sacrifice themselves for something outside of themselves. They prove that even if you are presently part of something that has already achieved a particular level of immortality, you can be that special ingredient that keeps something historical all that much more continuous. This is the mother of hustle, a desire to already continue what is outstanding and has now become your responsibility. It is the effort to continue something that can now become equally your own legacy.

Hustle brings something unique to the game. In the league of “guys with tattoos,” and the stigma that accompanies this encompassing perception, hustle can effectively eliminate the stereotype and break the mold. Hustle is an attribute that roundly transcends the negative perceptions of the general fan.  The guy that looks like the “bad guy” can still be what the “good guy” is all about at its core.

Give it an unbiased vies, and cast away your misconceptions of conjectured institutions. Incorporate what should ultimately be transparent to the true fan of the game. It is purely what is “bare bones” and exceeds what talent alone can achieve, be it the game of basketball or the game of life.

Hustle stands alone.