Dropping the Ball (And Picking It Up Again)

We look up to those in positions of authority, believing they got there because they’re better or smarter. We admire them. Until they make a mistake. When they disappoint us or do something just plain stupid (and they invariably do), we get angry at them because they failed to live up to the standard we set for them.?

But people in positions of power make mistakes. Because they’re human. Becoming an authority, leader, or expert doesn’t happen because you’re perfect. And your position of power doesn’t mean you won’t make mistakes. The true test of your leadership is what you do when you make one.

Consider this

Andrew Lyne, an astronomer at the University of Manchester, discovered a planet orbiting a pulsar—the burned-out husk of a star that had exploded as a supernova. It seemed impossible that a planet could survive such an explosion, but he did his due diligence, conducting months of checks to make sure he was right. And then he published his findings in the well-known science journal, Nature. Soon thereafter, he was invited to speak at the American Astronomical Society meeting.?

But a few weeks before his talk, Lyne realized he had made a terrible mistake. It was a sloppy, simple calculation he simply forgot to make: to calculate the Earth’s orbit as elliptical, and not circular. When he made the correction, “the planet disappeared.”

So, what did he do, after all that fame and fanfare? He stood up in front of hundreds of colleagues at the conference and said he made a mistake. A minute of silence followed, and then the room erupted into a standing ovation.?

Putting it into play?

We’re all going to screw up. And then we face a choice: how to deal with it. Lyne? did something hard. He admitted his mistake. He was accountable. And he put science over ego. An attendee at the conference, a fellow astrophysicist said it was “the most honorable thing I’ve ever seen.”?

I didn’t mistakenly identify a planet. But, I did commit to this being a weekly newsletter. And these past several months, I’ve been staring down at this newsletter's conspicuous absence. We had a system failure, and the result is a broken commitment to you, to our readers. I’m disappointed and sorry for the gap.?

While there are technical reasons for it, there aren’t excuses. Our consistency slipped. It’s uncomfortable—and awkward—to fall short in the public eye, But I take heart from Lyne. When systems fail, when calculations are done hastily, when newsletters go dark—it can be an opportunity for transparency, for accountability.?

I dropped the ball. And now, I’m picking it up again—with a better system in place, and a renewed resolve to deliver the insights you've come to expect. Thank you for giving me a second chance!?