Ligand Analogy

Constructing a Ligand is a lot like building a vehicle.  Each vehicle has a particular purpose.  If you want to go fast, you build a racecar.  If you want to carry a lot of stuff, you build a dump truck.  If you want to knock something over, you build a bulldozer.  If you want to fly, you build an airplane.  If you want to go underwater, you build a submarine. 

Yet, none of those vehicles can do what they are designed to do without a driver/pilot.  This is similar to the relationship between a ligand and a metal ion.  We spend a lot of time and effort designing ligands to have certain properties.  But, much like a car without a driver, the ligand is not going to be able to do its job without the metal ion.  So, designing and synthesizing a ligand is much like designing and building a car.  The ligand can’t do its ultimate job until the metal takes its place in the “driver’s seat”. 

In addition, not any old driver will do.  If you want your airplane to fly to the best of its designed abilities, not any old pilot will do; you need a top gun.  For your racecar to win the Indianapolis 500, someone off the street isn’t going to do it.  You need a professional driver.  The same is true for ligands.  You can put lots of different metals into most ligands.  Yet, only one or two will give the maximum performance for any one job.  Interestingly, some ligands will be very good at one job (reaction) with one metal ion, but can be very good at another reaction with a different metal ion. 

Daniel's Game

My oldest son (11), though always big and strong for his age, has never found a team sport that he really liked or, to be honest, was very good at.  He loves the water and is a strong swimmer, so he's been off and on our local YMCA swim team.  But he doesn't really like competing, and I have no experience to offer in competitive swimming.  He is very bright and also an excellent musician, so his competitions now consist of 5th-grade quiz-bowl and piano contests.  I'm quite proud of him and, at least with quiz-bowl, can offer him tales from my high school quiz bowl accomplishments.

My younger son (9), however, is more of an athlete than I'll ever be.  He could climb a rope 20 ft by age 5, something I have never been able to do.  We had him in gymnastics for a year or so, just long enough for him to master a back handspring, before he wanted to move to more competitive team sports.  I've always assisted with his team sports, either officially or unofficially, until his YMCA basketball team needed a coach.  This was the first (and likely last) time I've taken on the head coaching duties for my kids' teams.

We were woefully outclassed by every other team--we were a combination of young and not-very-good basketball players.  My son, the oldest and easily most athletically gifted, was by far our best player.  The first game, I have him at point guard, but have no choice but to have him play defense (man-to-man is required in the league) on the opposing big man, who is, I kid you not, a good foot taller.  My son took that challenge and ran with it.  He fought for every rebound, fouled hard when he needed to, got a plethora of floor burns, and took several elbows to the face--and that's all on defense.  On offense he scored all of our points, even though we got easily doubled up in scoring. 

By the end of the game, he was so hyped up, so adrenaline filled, and so emotionally and physically exhausted, that after we got into the pickup to drive home, he just had to cry for a few minutes to let it all out.  This was one of the most intense efforts I've ever seen on the court, and it was by my 9 year old son.  I told him how proud I was of him, and then I said you go ahead and cry.  I was very nearly doing the same myself.