To those who wish that I'd "stick to sports," your wishes have been granted, at least for this week.
You won. Literally. And I've never felt so sad.
Actually, it's shame.
I've never felt so ashamed to be guilty by association to something. And, I certainly never thought that that group, the being part of which would bring with it such abject ashamed-ness, would be that of being an American.
But, this week, we failed. To the 43 percent of Americans otherwise eligible to vote, who didn't ... shame on you.
To the 52 million Americans that voted for Trump, particularly those women, minorities, and those who call themselves "Christians" among you: shame, shame, shame on you too.
In the course of a week, or less, we've gone from an era of proudly rallying behind and believing in the audacity of hope, to issuing back in an idiocracy of ignorance; brought back, again, mostly by people tricked by way of scare tactics into voting counter to their own socio-economic self-interests.
But, I digress. To those who say "stick to sports," particularly those who plead for me to dedicate some time to local sports, I've been left with no choice this week. You took the wind out of my sails; very effectively and convincingly so. You won. Literally.
The sense of shame borne from the election-related events of the week, combined with a sense of early-onset sadness brought about by 5 p.m. sunsets, has left me feeling less than creative, not as feisty as usual, nor so much up to the task of putting up any sort of word-based or -smithed, intellectual fight (this week).
Luckily, just as last week found us on the eve of an election, this week finds us on the eve of the first day of practice for local high school sports.
I don't have a bias against wrestling or indoor track. I just never participated in either, and so I'm not as qualified or familiar enough with either to write anything inspiring or moving as it relates to one, the other, either, or both.
But, basketball ... the first day of basketball practice: That I know. That I miss. A unique sound will fill the air in high school gymnasiums, and surrounding hallways — the squeak of fresh, new sneakers on hardwood.
Popular among the colloquialisms of so-called coach speak is the advice about being the first player to be in the gym each day, and the last to leave, which is often and traditionally offered as motivation and a recipe for making the team, getting better, becoming and being a better player.
That's certainly true. But, there's another reason, if you really love the game, that you'll be the first in and last to leave, often finding yourself there, by yourself — because it's quieter then. There are other sounds, easier heard (but harder to find depending on how you think about it), in the solidarity of an otherwise empty gym.
You can hear yourself think; making it easier to work through broken shot mechanics on those days where your jumper just feels a bit off.
You can hear the echo of the ball; (the echo) bouncing off the walls unique to gym acoustics, as you dribble around the gym.
You can hear your heart beating if you're really pushing yourself while there all alone.
Best of all, as Bill Bradley described in simple language in the opening pages of his book about the Values of the Game:
You can hear the unique, soothing, sweet sound of a pure jumper swishing through the net. It doesn't get much better than that — alone in the gym, knocking down pure, wet jumpers, hearing the sound of the ball hitting nothing but the bottom of the net.
Have fun, and throughout the season.
As I touched on last week: May you learn on the court, by playing the game, and from your coaches, the sort of lessons about character, integrity, meritocracy, and color- and gender-blind inclusiveness and love that you may not otherwise find, hear, or see outside the gym (e.g. around the dinner table or on TV).
May you grow and learn from those lessons, and through the game, to be better than those of us of voting age and eligibility proved ourselves disinterested in being, incapable of, and/or just not to be.
Good luck. Do and be better. Please.
