My eleven-year-old son, Jake, plays ice hockey. He’s a goalie, and he loves the sport. Fortunately, Darren Hersh, one of the country’s best goalie trainers lives right here in Northern Virginia, and he founded the now multi-state Goalie Academy in 1996 after a notable professional hockey career. One of his three locations is situated in Sterling, and Jake regularly attends lessons there. But last week, something was different.
The norm at this not-inexpensive-but-worth-every-penny training academy is a sheet of synthetic ice and two instructors: one coach and one assistant, each armed as a forward with a hockey stick. But on this occasion, Jake faced more. You see, he stood opposite two stick-wielding forwards, plus “Mr. Darren” (as Jake calls him) and a machine. A big machine . . . one that was very powerful and probably a bit daunting from Jake’s perspective. Why?
Well, the machine shot pucks in his direction at a pace of 50 mph. And Jake knew that the machine had the capacity to shoot 100 mph pucks. And so, on this day, Mr. Darren shot one [fast] puck after the next from his fancy new machine, while the two forwards worked rebounds against Jake.
At the first break, I asked Darren about his new contraption. While I was awed by the hefty machine and its speedy shots, I was also curious as to why—and how—it fit into the training regimen. Darren offered a surprising answer. The machine wasn’t a new toy at all. Instead, he had been injured and was unable to repeatedly shoot, so the machine was his solution. The contraption enabled Darren to meaningfully participate in training drills despite his injury.
Hours after Jake’s lesson wrapped, I found myself still thinking about the machine and Darren’s business resilience in the face of his injury. That’s when it struck me: this was a prime example of something I’d recently read. Something powerful.
That “something” was from
The Lemonade Stand, a book written by two local entrepreneurs and authors, Ara Bagdasarian and Nick Gustavsson.
The Lemonade Stand outlines the benefits of optimism in entrepreneurship and spurs thought with meaningful real-life examples.
The authors motivate readers with a you-can-do-this tone that’s believable, and they give roots to the concept of turning lemons into lemonade. In fact, I found myself going back repeatedly to various points in the book, but one notion really stuck out for me: obstacles are best viewed as opportunities. According to The Lemonhead Movement—the principle adopted by Bagdasarian and Gustavsson—obstacles provide prime material for the creation of solutions. And entrepreneurs who see obstacles as opportunities to create solutions are smart. They’re better than smart though. They are also poised to help themselves and others by developing products, services, and ideas that remedy existing problems.
As I connected the dots between Darren, his machine, and The Lemonhead Movement, I knew I’d seen firsthand an example of a professional obstacle turned opportunity and solution. Darren didn’t see his injury as something temporarily untouchable or as a situation that would go away as he healed. Instead, he found an immediate solution, and his training facility remained fully operational without added burdens on his coaching staff.
And it’s astounding to think about the progress we could make if most people approached problems that way. Just imagine what we could accomplish as a society if The Lemonhead Movement became mainstream . . . if most people looked at obstacles as opportunities, as problems that simply need solving. The possibilities are endless, but they’re also encouraging.
And so, I challenge you to welcome obstacles that cross your path. They may hold secrets to things you might never have otherwise imagined.