By: Patrick Irving
5/31/2008

The 2008 Scripps National Spelling Bee took place this week, and one thing is clearer than ever: those kids are smart – much smarter than you and I (well, you anyway).

Much can be learned from them…

P-R-E-P-A-R-A-T-I-O-N

Bill and Mark lived two houses apart from one another, and because they were twelve year-old kids, that was as good a reason as any for them to be friends. But the boys had more in common than a bedroom window view of Old Man Henderson’s unpainted garage: they both had a shot to be the next Spelling Bee champion.

Bill was all business. He read the dictionary day and night because that was the way to learn every single word. It wasn’t glamorous or even fun, but he did it anyway. There would be time for fun later. This was the time to win.

Mark wanted to win, too. Like Bill, he spent many hours with his nose buried in a Webster’s unabridged. But Mark was also on a Little League team. Not the kind with semi-professional coaches and phony birth certificates, either. The fun kind.

Mark pleaded with Bill to join him out on the diamond or just in the street for a game of catch. But Bill would have none of it. There would be time for games later. This was the time to win.

So while Mark racked up RBI, Bill routed the R’s and bludgeoned the B’s and immolated the I’s. He was on his way. He would not be denied.

But, still, Mark persisted. On one sunny day, he stopped by with an invitation to shoot some hoops in the park. Bill passed.

“Come on,” persuaded Mark, “I’ve been studying all day, too. I need a break.”

“Come see me after I win the Bee,” Bill teased, “then I’ll be up for some fun.”

Bill was right to be confident because now he was learning words at a dizzying pace. He was almost through the entire dictionary!

But Mark continued his push to get his friend out of the house for a few hours. This time he offered tickets to an NHL game.

“That league still exists?” Bill sneered.

Indeed it did, and despite its inability to broadcast games on a cable channel anyone has ever heard of, it still boasted one of the greatest live sports experiences around.

But once again Bill declined. The Spelling Bee was right around the corner for crying out loud. He had no room in his brain for anything other than what was in his trusty book. There would be time for sports later. This was the time to win.

But time was running out. Bill had vanquished the V’s and whipped the W’s and done whatever it is one does to X’s, but the Y’s had proven to be a yoke around his neck. By the time he completed them, B-Day had arrived. It was zero hour and his Z knowledge was zilch.

But he was still confident. If someone who labored as tirelessly as he couldn’t get through the entire dictionary, then there was no way anyone else could either.

So, it was no surprise when Bill’s hard work propelled him through the competition’s early rounds. But, remember, Mark was no slouch. He advanced, too.

Bill was not embittered by his fun-loving neighbor’s success, though. After all, it would be even sweeter to defeat him in the finals.

He would get his chance.

After a grueling week, only two spellers remained standing: the boys who shared a bedroom window view of Old Man Henderson’s unpainted garage. It was sudden death. The next word would crown the champion.

This was Bill’s time to shine. He had memorized every word in his path. He had worked himself silly. He had sacrificed fun and normalcy for his dream, and now it would all pay off. He would be vindicated. This was the time to win.

And then the final word was announced: Zamboni.

FADE OUT:

Did you like that? Then you've got to read THIS!