On Monday, I was driving to get petrol with Nico and three of his mates on their mid-term break.
Usual mayhem.
“That guy just got knocked down”, one of the lads shouted.
Then I saw him.
Just a man lying on the ground in a Sallynoggin car park behind a white van. Not moving much.
I parked and ran over.
I wasn’t sure what I was about to encounter. Surely it couldn’t be that serious, it was only in a car park. Yet on the other hand, he was still in the recovery position lying on the ground, he hadn’t sat up.
The van driver (poor lad) had dialled the emergency services, so he was tied up there.
Gavin, as I soon found out was his name, was in both shock and a lot of pain. He wasn’t moving – he was eerily still, but conscious.
He had a big gash across the back of his head that was bleeding heavily (he had cracked it against the curb when he fell backwards) but he was more concerned about something else.
“Pull back my sleeve”, he said. I was concerned his arm was injured so I was reluctant.
“I will, just tell me why”, I encouraged. “Is it injured?”
“Just pull it back”, he said in a very agitated way.
I did, and a wrist band he was wearing revealed a heart condition. He wanted me to make sure the emergency services knew, so I passed on the details.
He was clear. That struck me.
In a moment where he must have been frightened, maybe even wondering if this was it, he was clear about what mattered.
“Tell them about my heart. Get my wife on the phone please.”
I stayed with him as a few other people came to help. They offered coats to keep him warm.
Then he started to drift.
I tried to keep him talking. He seemed to lose consciousness and then after a few seconds he kind of jolted and was back with us.
There were moments where I thought, is he slipping here?
It was pretty distressing. And yet I felt oddly calm. Not composed. Just focused on the next small thing that might help.
I couldn’t fix anything. I couldn’t take away the pain. I couldn’t control the outcome.
All I could do was be with him. And then, after figuring out how to use a Samsung phone for the first time, I managed to get his wife on the phone. This seemed to placate him somewhat, knowing that she was aware of his condition and could do some of the explaining for him.
Although shocked, she responded well and communicated clearly.
The paramedics arrived and took over with Gavin. She told me about the meds he was on, I made a list and passed it on. She said she’d meet him in Vincents.
That was it.
Yesterday I received a text from him. He thanked me. He said some lovely things. I appreciated his words but I felt like an imposter reading them.
It made me think about something we talk about a lot in TRIPS Tank.
Performance = Potential – Interference.
In that car park, there was hardly any interference. No overthinking. It was instinctive.
Just presence.
Where my ‘imposter’ stems from is that in the week or ten days leading up to that moment I’ve felt distracted and agitated more often than not.
I’ve been trying to force a few things. I’ve been thinking too much, taking me away from being present.
I was trying to optimise too many things at once, and doing a sh!t job with many of them.
Better recovery. Better strategy. Better pitches or proposals. Better habits. Better leadership. Better parenting.
My Inner Game was foggy and it shaped my outer game. I was creating my own interference.
This unfortunate accident helped me see through it.
When things really matter, it often comes down to the most basic things.
- Can you just stay?
- Can you listen?
- Can you meet someone at their point of need?
That’s what we focus on inside TRIPS Tank. Not because it sounds good in a brochure, but because it shows up in car parks, boardrooms and kitchens when you least expect it.
In your next difficult moment, meeting or conversation, don’t try to be impressive.
Just stay. Notice what changes.
And whilst I tried to tell Nico and his mates that I had saved Gavin’s life, they just laughed at me and said he had a cut on his head!
I know, there was nothing heroic to it, I just didn’t have time to think or do anything else.
And sometimes, that is more than enough.