Lost on a Loop Trail: Lucky ducks

Like yours, there is ample room in my head for inflation of my ego. And the quickest way to get a firm and plump ego — just at the tipping point of bursting — is to be labeled a prodigy.

Alas, I missed my chance to be identified as a “child prodigy.” It is deflating to write this, but I have proven to be just average at a great many things, especially paddleboarding.

This observation leads to only one conclusion: Either humans have not yet created the activities that match the prodigious talents that lie dormant inside me or I have not yet found them.

Take Tiger Woods, for example. Woods’ fame and fortune is a result of two very fortunate coincidences. First, he came into a world where you can make a lot of money if you are good at using a metal stick to whack a small ball into holes spread around a vibrant pastoral landscape. And, second, Woods was born with a jaw-dropping natural talent to do just that — so much so that when he was 2 years old, the media labeled him a golf prodigy. Lucky duck.

But imagine a reality where golf did not exist! Then where would Tiger Woods be? He would likely be like me — ordinary.

The fact that one can be born with chess skills into a world where chess has already been invented makes me wonder if it’s more than mere luck. I think some of us get inside information when we are created.

This must be true, because why would Paganini — why would anyone for that matter — come into this world with the unusual talent to make music by rubbing horsehair against sheep intestine strings pinned across a wooden body? They wouldn’t — unless they knew ahead of time that it was a smart career move.

What follows is the title of a YouTube video. I want you to try to fill in the blank: “Devon Harbaugh took on 13-year-old ________ prodigy Alex Hicks in California and gave us a match to remember.”

Here is how fortunate Alex Hicks is. Embedded within his DNA is the singular ability to throw a beanbag filled with corn 27 feet into a hole. Child prodigy Alex Hicks plays on a professional cornhole team — the Texas Bully Baggers. Lucky duck.

My attention now turns toward you, the reader. For though I may be average, you may be prodigious. But in what? To help you uncover your greatness that has been there all this time, I compiled a list of amazing talents you may have lying dormant within you.

1. Say no to second helpings — prodigy.
2. Type with no typos — prodigy.
3. Remember people’s first names five minutes after being introduced to them — prodigy.
4. Build trust between humans and the Martian species by learning to fluently speak their language, which consists of using your eyebrows and thumbs to create odd-sounding clicks — prodigy.
5. Know when a turkey is ready to come out of the oven without relying on a meat pop-up thermometer — prodigy.
6. Regularly be mistaken for George Clooney — prodigy.
7. Meet a stranger and leave them with a sense that you had met before, at a life-changing event, but they can’t remember when or where it was — prodigy.
8. Calculate in one’s head with a near-perfect accuracy of 99.999999979% how much salad dressing on one’s salad is not too much and not too little — prodigy.
9. Distinguish between human- and artificial intelligence-generated content — prodigy.
10.  Soon after it is invented in 2046, become a world-class Beknob player known for your jaw-dropping ability to throw a thrimble through a doohag as defenders try to benkob you with their pritzes on stun — prodigy.
11. Intuit the exact weight of golden artifacts you want to steal so that, when you replace them with a sandbag, the temple doesn’t try to kill you with arrows and a giant boulder — prodigy.
12. And, finally, write a humor column — prodigy.