The Greatest

“I am the greatest!” Muhammad Ali

With those immortal words, Ali earned more detractors than he did fans, and yet, he went out and repeatedly proved that he was indeed “the greatest” at what he did. I understand the dislike for some of the things he did and said outside the boxing ring (and his infamous “showboating” inside the ring). I disliked his in-your-face arrogance myself, but greatly admire his accomplishments and legacy (which of course matched his arrogance). This begs a couple of honest questions: What’s wrong with proclaiming your greatness, if you truly are, and by extension, what’s wrong with striving for greatness if you might possibly be (which naturally means being “better” than others—oh, the delicate self-esteem issues! “Don’t I get a trophy for participating?”)?

Another sports analogy: I remember the day when Ricky Henderson broke the stolen base record; he yanked second base out of the ground and did a victory lap around the stadium holding it high like a trophy (it most likely resides today in his personal shrine to himself). That same day, Nolan Ryan pitched a no-hitter (his career third or fourth I think); in his press conference, he basically said “Ah shucks, I was just doing my job!” Nobody likes a braggart, and everybody appreciates the humility of a true champion!

My Father, Myron Hinkle (one of the most talented-but-humble men I have ever known) used to tell me that I would be the greatest banjo player ever someday! Let me back up a moment though; when I was 12 and starting to get pretty good on the tenor banjo, people would say that “he’s going to be just like his Dad!” You know what I did? I switched to the plectrum so I wouldn’t have to live up to those expectations. Now of course I dearly wish I could play the tenor like my Dad, but it’s a bit late for that!

So when he started telling me I would be “the greatest,” I dug in and purposely stopped progressing! How stupid was that. . .and how disappointed must he have been? And yet, that’s exactly what I did! Rather than feel emboldened by his perhaps-overblown proclamation, the pressure I felt (combined with my low self-esteem) caused me to quit; the thought of me being the greatest at anything did not fit my self-image. So instead of striving for that goal at an age where I very well may have begun to achieve it (who knows?), I took steps to guarantee that I never would. Instead of being woke up, I went into a protracted sleep, where not much got accomplished.

Many years later, I was told the exact same thing by Buddy Wachter (who is arguably the greatest ever); he told me that if I was still playing in ten years (this was in 1991), I would be the best. . .er, second-best in the world! This time I didn’t quit, but again the unintended pressure he put on me overwhelmed me, and I drug my feet and failed to do the things necessary to fulfill that prophesy. Was it in me? I like to think it was, but it saddens me that I reacted the way I did at the time—I didn’t yet believe in myself.

Anyway, I took my childhood sand-bagging so far that I “achieved” a GPA of 2.0 (with easy subjects) in high school! It wasn’t until I was in my mid-thirties—when I earned a 3.65 GPA in a notoriously difficult college program (Music Education at Central Washington University)—that I discovered that I am indeed one smart cookie, and started actually trying to live up to my childhood potential. As a kid and young adult, I believed I was a nothing—and had the grades to “prove” it. Imagine what I might have achieved in college if I had actually believed in myself! Heck, imagine what I might have achieved on the banjo if I had actually believed in myself! Ah, “too soon we grow old, too late we grow smart”; if I only knew then what I know now.

Anyway, this gets into dysfunctional family dynamics and the resulting adult personal issues, which is not my intended subject! I just wanted to show that the concept of greatness (and the pressure involved with it) was implanted in my head at an early age. Maybe now you understand what drives (and frustrates) me today? By writing about this, I hope to be an inspiration to similarly-afflicted banjoists.

I also hope to present myself as a “cautionary tale” to those who wish to encourage young banjoists (who may still have an actual shot at greatness); be careful of greatness proclamations, but don’t be afraid to present the concept and the appropriate encouragement. Don’t say “you could be the greatest”; say “greatness is available to you, if you work hard.” Then present examples of what greatness means (that’s why we have “heroes”—recordings are a wonderful thing!). Perhaps the most important point here though is this: There is nothing wrong with being great! There is nothing wrong with wishing to be the greatest! Greatness is not something that just “happens”; it is something that requires work and self-belief.

I have come to believe that many banjoists look at our past heroes—Harry Reser, Eddie Peabody, Perry Bechtel, et al—as un-matchable Gods to be put on a pedestal and worshiped (and heaven forbid anyone says anything critical of them), not as role models of what could personally be achieved—let alone surpassed—if we only believed in ourselves, and dared to say “I could be the greatest—I could be better than him!”

Don’t worry, I’m no longer shooting to be the greatest myself. I’m a bit too old to accomplish that (though I’m trying hard to make up for lost time now); I have finally, happily resigned myself to being “the best I can be,” and am taking positive, emotionally-healthy steps in that direction. I only wish I had gotten the appropriate-to-me guidance I needed early in life.

But here is where the rubber really meets the road: If we want kids (they are the future; not us!) to be interested in the banjo in the first place (preserve), and then to be driven to take the banjo in new directions (advance), it must be presented as an instrument worthy of such insane desire (just in case that possibility-for-greatness is inside the individual student, as I believe it was inside of me)—you know, the kind that makes a 9 year old piano prodigy play as well as Liszt and Rachmaninoff (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aaakFH8JIYU)—please watch this video all the way to the end to hear his own very mature thoughts on it. It brought me to tears, and almost made me wish I was 9 again.