RIM crisis highlights the entrepreneur’s greatest challenge

The first time I met Jim Balsillie, someone so integral to Research in Motion’s rise and public image that he is often mistaken for one of the tech giant’s co-founders, he seemed driven, focused and experienced beyond his years. He was also affable, joking about the fact that he had fi nally obtained season’s tickets to his beloved Toronto Maple Leafs, only to be too busy to attend many games.

It was December 1999—a year in which RIM would do US$85 million in sales— and PROFIT had invited Balsillie to tell the RIM story at a Toronto Board of Trade breakfast. For many of the barely 50 people in attendance, the event was their introduction to the two-way pager that would grow into one of the world’s most iconic brands: BlackBerry. (The “CrackBerry” was still a couple of years off.) Within the small scrum of well-wishers, glad-handers and consultants that inevitably formed around Balsillie after his speech, a woman asked me what I knew about the BlackBerry. I tapped Balsillie on the shoulder and asked whether I could borrow his for a couple of minutes. He obliged.

The next time I spoke to Balsillie was eight years later; I was interviewing him as he sat in an elementary-school gym, watching one of his children play volleyball. The conversation didn’t go particularly well, given the repeated blare of the referee’s whistle, cheers from the crowd and Balsillie’s greater interest in the game than in the interview. But it left me with a distinct impression: here’s a guy who’s where most Canadian entrepreneurs would like to be. Balsillie was rich, at the helm of a growing, profi table business dominating its category, and yet still able to take time away from the office to watch his kids play sports and buy the Pittsburgh Penguins in his spare time. (Insert your own joke here.)

Unless you own a lot of Apple stock, RIM’s current crisis is no laughing matter. Whereas most sizable Canadian tech companies sell out to foreign interests, RIM pushed through the growth barrier and became a US$19-billion-a-year behemoth sitting on a ton of cash and valuable intellectual property, and forming the linchpin of Waterloo’s important technology cluster. It’s a monument to the capacity of Canadians for entrepreneurial greatness.

In that context, the too common portrayal of Balsillie and RIM co-founder Mike Lazaridis as Icarus, who flew too close to the sun, is both infuriating and sad. Canada needs more entrepreneurs who will aim so high, and fewer people who stigmatize failure and, like crabs in a bucket, pull successful people down.

But the latest chapters in the tale of Balsillie and Lazaridis are instructive. RIM’s reputation for arrogance is largely deserved, in the way it has treated its developer community, Balsillie’s run-and-gun attempts to own an NHL team despite intense smartphone competition, and RIM’s seeming intent on telling the market what it needs rather than listening to what it wants. (Screw bulletproof security and a functional keyboard; just give me Angry Birds!) And the co-chiefs either didn’t associate with or listen to any credible contrarians who might have warned them to change tack.

It’s easy to offer such criticism in hindsight. The greatest challenge for all entrepreneurs is to anticipate their own mistakes before they’re made.