Chokes, Clutches, Vices, and Virtues
A clutch is exhilarating; I like games that end with a buzzer beater. I’ve seen (and been thrilled by) too many action movies where the world is saved just at the wire. The adrenaline rush I get from turning in a last-minute assignment is similarly a thrilling relief. I’d argue, just intuitively, these moments are virtuous because we see them as praiseworthy. We make NBA highlight reels of clutch moments. We watch more action movies. Telling your friends that you finished your lab report in an hour always is met with amazement. But while we intuitively praise them, it’s hardly all the same virtue, like acts of kindness for example. If you don’t turn in the assignment on time or the action movie protagonist doesn’t disarm the bomb, all that’s left is the vice of being unprepared. The virtue seems to reside in the result. Noting that other acts of virtue, like honesty or integrity, don’t seem to rest on the result (this is to say that we can label these actions as virtuous even before they are finished with results), what separates non-virtuous clutches with the rest?
There’s something to balance here. On one hand, I have to admit, I am proud of my all-nighters for last-minute successes. On the other hand, poor planning isn’t all that. When that last minute submission, we may commend that last minute effort, but not the initial negligence. Opposingly, when celebrating athletes for their clutch performances, we do celebrate the game winning shot, but we also celebrate the hours of practice and the effort needed to perform under pressure. Yet our fascination, and indeed, our perceived praise of an action derives from how much entertainment we get, it seems that both cases are equal. To this end, either virtue is not just whether an action is praiseworthy or any last-minute triumph is virtuous. It’s clear that the second is not true.
But true virtue is often unremarkable. It is in consistent preparation and responsibility. It doesn’t seem as glamorous, but it's what stops from the necessity of such last minute desperate measures. Consider a surgeon who does a life or death operation. We don’t throw a parade for them because they ran into that operating room at the last minute. We praise their years of studying and consistent excellence which allows them to remain competent in high pressure.
There is also the question of luck. In those cases where success is last minute and can only be accounted for by luck, it’s also clear that there is little virtue, despite there being entertainment. The distinction between virtue and vice here is that there is no virtue in luck just like there is no virtue in winning the lottery: it lacks the element of character that must be involved for action to be considered virtue. Making money by skills and effort takes resolve and know-how; it is admirable. Winning money based on a lottery ticket means nothing; it is just luck. To this end, the praise we may get from this moment comes from being entertained, for being something good as itself. They are good stories and important moments, but celebrating this result independent of an understanding of what the meaning of the virtues on which it depends is missing the point.
We should marvel at the dedication of the athlete, not the winning shot. We should marvel at the student's study habits, not at the all-nighter pulled.
Virtue in these moments does not run parallel to the storied excitement and praise we may have, because often the steadfast qualities it derives from are boring. But that is where what separates procrastination from that game winning shot. It is not in the excitement of a buzzer-beater; it is in those more mundane moments of diligence that make such successes possible.