32 Global Gaming Business FEBRUARY 2019crew laughed just a few decibels louder when
they saw Skinny Jack, it would have triggered the
biggest avalanche in the history of what’s now
called Heavenly Mountain, and this story would
have ended right then and right there, under a
gazillion tons of snow.
But it wasn’t, so it didn’t, and with nine
hours of daylight left, the competition began.
Skinny Jack swung his blade into the base of
a tree, 10 times, 20 times, 30 times before it
crashed to the floor of the forest. Big Jack? He
stood there motionless, arms folded, holding the
largest axe anyone had ever seen.
Which he wielded like a swordsman.
Whack, whack, whack! Three precise strikes and
the tree toppled, sending the Pacific crew into a
frenzy and the Rockies crew into a panic.
And it only got worse.
For every tree Skinny Jack knocked down,
Big Jack knocked down five. After an hour, the
rout was on.
To exacerbate his handicap, Skinny Jack
would—without fail and without exception—
take a break every 30 minutes. While Big Jack
was clearing enough trees to make the Lorax cry,
Skinny Jack would sit alone with his back
turned. The other men could see he was doing
something with his hands, and there seemed to
be some friction involved, but nobody paid
much attention. They were too busy watching
and admiring Big Jack, thinking perhaps that
joke about the Bonneville Salt Flats wasn’t a joke
after all.
As the sun began its slow descent towards
the horizon, it seemed it would soon set on both
Skinny Jack and the Rockies crew.
But a funny thing happened on the way to
the foregone conclusion. Trees that had taken
Big Jack a minute to fell, were now taking five.
Then 10. Then 20. He was swinging with the
same intensity as before, his muscles still busting
out of his skin, still sounding his barbaric yawp
with every blow he struck. He just wasn’t getting
the same results.
Neither was Skinny Jack. Every time he
came off a break, he got better. Much better. He
was knocking down trees at three times his origi-MAKING MY POINT
Turtle vs. Hare
A lumber showdown demonstrates preparation is king
L
ong before Mayweather-McGregor, long
before King-Riggs, long before Lincoln-
Douglas, long before Cain-Abel—well,
OK, not that long ago—the greatest showdown
that ever took place took place.
In the woods surrounding Lake Tahoe.
Two lumberjack outfits, one from the Pacific
Northwest and one from the Rocky Mountains,
found themselves toe-to-toe and axe-to-axe on a
patch of grass where California meets Nevada.
Each wanted what the other wanted: to clear the
path along the southern end of the lake, a path
that would eventually become a trail, a trail that
would eventually become Highway 50.
The forest, you could have said, wasn’t big
enough for the two of them.
Now, it could have gotten ugly, what with all
that testosterone and all those blunt instruments,
but cooler heads, as they occasionally do, did pre-
vail. It was decided that the best lumberjack from
the Pacific and the Rockies would square off, and
whoever cut down more trees before sunset would
determine which crew would finish the job.
They called it the “Lumber-Off.”
Because everyone giggled like teenage boys
when they called it the other thing.
The Pacific crew picked Big Jack, who, un-
ironically, was big. Huge. Like a Sequoia. He
made Paul Bunyon look like a 98-pound weakling
and Babe the Blue Ox look like a piglet.
“Do you know where Big Jack got started in
this business?” the leader of the Pacific asked the
leader of the Rockies.
“No,” he said, staring up at this monster be-
fore him.
“The Bonneville Salt Flats.”
“Wait a minute,” the leader of the Rockies
said. “There aren’t any trees in the Bonneville Salt
Flats.”
“There were before Big Jack got there!”
While the Pacific crew was hooting and hol-
lering and high-fiving, one man stepped forward
for the Rockies team. At least it looked like a
man. Pale, scrawny, with pipe-cleaner arms and a
Friar Tuck halo of hair on his head.
Skinny Jack was his name.
Had this been winter, and had the PacificBy Roger Snownal pace. Then five. Then 10. With dusk just a
few hours off, he was closing the gap on Big Jack.
Skinny Jack kept doing what he was doing,
taking a break every 30 minutes. And Big Jack
kept doing was he was doing: trying harder,
swinging harder, and even yawping louder.
As the two men cut their swath deeper into
the forest, and the trees changed from Winter
Firs to Ponderosa Pines to Quaking Aspens,
Skinny Jack became more efficient, more produc-
tive, while Big Jack became less. “Try harder!” his
teammates said. “Swing harder!! Yawp louder!!!”
He did, but it was no use. By the time dark-
ness was upon them, the competition was over.
The accompli being fait and all, Skinny Jack
calmly and quietly put away his axe, while Big
Jack tried to bring down one more tree. But the
edge of his blade was so dull, it bounded off the
bark and hit him in the head. He fell face-first to
the ground as Skinny Jack had his hand raised in
victory.
While the Rockies crew was congratulating
itself and the Pacific crew was consoling itself,
one—and only one—man was curious enough to
look at the area where Skinny Jack had taken all
of those breaks. He expected to find some sort of
energy substance or perhaps a voodoo talisman,
anything that could have helped himself or hin-
dered his opponent.
Instead, all he found was a stone. A hard
stone that was chipped and jagged from a day’s
worth of cutting something, of scratching some-
thing, of polishing something.
Of sharpening something.
And that’s when it all made sense.
For long-term success in any endeavor, you
must continuously enhance your skills, your
mindset, your understanding. Doing the same
thing the same way will eventually stop working.
See the forest for the trees and sharpen your
blade.Roger Snow is a senior vice president with Scientific
Games. The views and opinions expressed in this
article are those of the author and do not necessarily
reflect the views and opinions of Scientific Games
Corporation or its affiliates.p. 32 mypoint:Layout 1 1/10/19 12:27 PM Page 32