I recently learned that in FISM competitions — competitions hosted by the International Federation of Magic Societies (if the letters aren’t in order, it’s because FISM is in French not in English), that the judges don’t have to award any prizes. Meaning if they don’t think any of the magicians and their acts are up to par, they don’t have to dole out a first, second or third place. And according to Simon Coronel, it happens quite often. The goal is simple. That winning first place should mean something. Not just because you’re better than the rest that day or that year, but that you really deserve to stand among the greats.
And it got me thinking. Are there other fields that should strive for the same level of rigor?
For instance, does an Oscar need to be awarded every year for each category?
Or an Olympic gold medal for each event every four? (Although a caveat to my own, if the rules change, like when in 2010, they banned male full-body suits when swimming at the international stage, then there should be a reevaluation of excellence.)
And there might be some years that the best prize awarded should just be a second place one.
Then there are other contests, where the number of prizes only seem to increase. In other areas, namely to join certain rankings organized by members of the press, you have to pay for your spot. The latter of which I have no experience in. But had heard of accounts from friends who have.
The truth is it’s not my place to rate the world’s greatest artists or athletes. But it does make you wonder that if the magic society can hold themselves to that high of a regard, why can’t the rest of us do so?
Once upon a note
As all good Asian children did, once upon a time, I learned to play the piano since I was five. One of many teachers and admittedly the one I was with for the longest happened to this sweet lady who taught her students out of her home. And every year, usually around the beginning of summer, she would rent out a hall and host a recital between all her students. Every student (and she had 30-40 students) — from beginning to master — would play one song.
The whole recital would last about 2-3 hours. And at the close, there would be an award ceremony. For each skill category, there would be a Best of Show trophy. And for everyone else, a participation trophy. When I was first started off and was quite bad, that participation trophy felt great, even if I was only playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Stars. I put it at the top of my shelf next to my bed, so I would see it every morning when I woke up.
Then 1-2 participation awards later, they had lost their luster. The Best of Show is now what I was aiming for.
For a brief period of time, that was my goal. And eventually I got it. But I remember when I finally got it, I wasn’t nearly as elated as I thought I’d be. ‘Cause that year my teacher decided that one Best of Show wasn’t enough. Three felt right to her. To be fair, I don’t know if she had over-ordered or just felt the need to give more out due to some parental complaints. But I remember receiving mine alongside someone who I knew made a few hiccups on stage. And even though I did the best I could have, I didn’t feel like I deserved it.
So that night, I didn’t even put the Best of Show trophy on my shelf.
A side corollary to angel investing
The greatest feature of being an angel investor (as opposed to being a VC) is that you can be opportunistic. Your fund size is your own liquidity. You’re not tied down to a mandate. Or a deployment schedule. And if so, self-induced. What it means is that you invest only when you see a great company and team. Anything south of that means you don’t have to. You don’t have to award a check to a founder if you don’t feel they’re deserving of a first place. And because of that, “first place” actually means something. Not only to the founders you invest in, but to you.
That said, playing my own devil’s advocate, much of early-stage investing is luck-based game. And it is foolhardy to attribute to skill when a large amount of variables is unbeknownst at the time of investing — be it asymmetric information, or market conditions, incumbent moves, or purely black swan events in the future. The latter few, you need to count on luck more than once. And luck purely defined as “uncertainty in outcome,” in the words of the great Richard Garfield.
Photo by Brands&People on Unsplash
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