The name on the front of the jersey isn't as important in the sport of politics

I've been hinting at this post for a while, and after another seemingly sleepless night, it's time to finally broach the topic I guess.  I've had this hypothesis simmering in my mind for about a month now, regarding why politics in the US has seemingly been devolving of late.  Basically, I believe that in the end sum, our current state of politics is about two teams ('parties') competing for the winning score on the day of the big game every November.

I'm not going to fully develop this theory tonight, but want to build it piece by piece.  Tonight, I want to keep it simple.  It's important that we realize that what we're seeing now in the US government is both old hat and a new "ball game".  In the early days of the republic, it was not uncommon for fist fights, cane attacks, and the odd duel to break out over political disagreement.  My recent visit to Monticello reminded me of what "civil discourse" was in the old days.  But, today is different in a very fundamental way.  Back then, the disagreements and incivility were often based solely on ideology - two (or more) opposing viewpoints on what was best for the country.  Lies and deceit were certainly used, but in my optimistic heart, I believe that the intentions of all parties was to forge a solution that preserved and perfected our union. 

I see no such noble intent anymore.  I believe the discourse, if it could be called that, is about the scorecard.  How much money did your party raise by the deadline?  Which team has the most points (i.e. seats/votes) when the game (i.e. vote) is over.  The strategies are about winning for your team, not about perfecting our union.  It make great headlines anytime you can get 1 or 2 people to break with their team to actually try to explore compromises.  During Madison's presidency, Dolley would hold regular dinner parties at the White House so such conversation could happen on a regular basis.  The great legislation of US history has always involved compromise.  Even our beloved constitution - the document our armed forces defend and our leaders swear to protect - was a series of compromises. 

But now, because all that seems to matter is how much blue or red shows up on the screen on election day, compromise is verboten.  Break from the party, especially if you're republican right now, and you're going to be riding the pine faster than that "don't tread on me snake" can bite you in the ass.  It was the same in Pelosi's house - she had her team unified and no one stepped out of line unless the team's victory was secured.  Our Congress, in my opinion, has stopped leading in lieu of winning the game.  And too many of our citizens, I'm afraid, are satisfied with knowing their team won, and not about the actual policies enacted.

I leave you with this, my new favorite Jefferson quote du jour:
"If a Nation expects to be ignorant and free in a state of civilization,
it expects what never was and never will be....
If we are to guard against ignorance and remain free,
it is the responsibility of every American to be informed."

 It's time for us to be informed, and stop treating our politics like a sport to be watched and cheered, in the hopes that our team drafts the right player in the 2012 presidential entry draft, and that the team functions as one  - all the way to victory.  I'd rather have leaders willing to ignore the name on the front of the jersey once in a while and remember the one on the back matters too.

The Separation Between Competition and Sports

I just got finished with a week that was, somewhat productive, but really the calm before the storm.  I spent several wonderful days in the the Virginia Piedmont with some friends/colleagues from work and their partners.  It was a great time.  My closest friends here in Oneonta are big fans of playing, and I tend to feed off of their energy (read: it gets loud and the dirty jokes and innuendo start flying).  And I noticed that, there really is a difference between my enjoyment of competition and my currently unhealthy fandom with sports.  When I'm playing the games, I do want to win, and I do let the emotions show, but I am actually playing and there's something to wanting to see that investment in time and effort be rewarded with victory.  Granted, I do sometimes need to rein in my "need" to win, but it's far better than it was growing up. 

With sports, there is this sad added dimension for me.  I hate the other team.  Which turns into hating the other school, demonizing the other players, growling at the Michigan bumper stickers on cars on the highway, loathing the guy in the Green Bay Packers sweatshirt while visiting Monticello (Allyson caught me clenching my fists).  It transcends the competition itself and really makes me feel unbalanced.  Especially, say, when I know someone whom I like, and then learn that they are a fan of "the other team".  Why does my perception of them change?  How can I justify their being my friend and then their not being my friend because their car is blue, and I prefer green. 

Sometimes the choices people make matter in the calculus of long-term relationships.   Values matter.  Groups you support matter.  Your actions matter.  The deity you worship, if there is one, matters.  In the send the sum total of these terms of the equation ought to add up to a positive correlation if you expect the relationship to last.   The team you support, the brand of coffee you prefer, or my favorite, if you insist that anything but Heinz Ketchup is ok - these ought to be at best orders of magnitude smaller than the rest.  They are for my wife and I, which is why we're together.  I know I'm capable of properly valuing sports and sports rivalry properly against the truly important things in life.  The fact that it has been such a struggle, is why I still have plenty to write and think and yes, even pray about.

The alarm will go off in 4 hours, so I can hopefully finish some grading before classes start. I guess it's time for sleep.

Quick Note

I'm going to have limited internet access the next few days - so there's going to be a lull in the posting for a while.  That said, it's both a good and bad thing for me.  I've been personally ITCHING to go to espn.com to read up on sports and baseball and where things stand with football, and to see if PSU has a chance to make the NCAA tournament...  Bad news - there will be cable where I'll be, and I doubt everyone else will want to immediately block ESPN just because of me. 

I am being sorely tested right now.  The urge to watch sports is so bad that I've found myself forcing myself to turn on C-SPAN just to take my mind off of wanting to watch sports.  (Why C-SPAN?  because I do find it interesting to watch government work (sort of), there's no commentary, it's just unedited truth, and mostly, it's still competitive.  I swear it's still sports in a way, and I'd like my team to win)

A League of Their Own

So I had DVR'ed this movie the week before the ban began, and today, while waiting for the plumbers to install a new hot water heater after a major failure today, I decided to watch it.  Not really thinking about being sports-celibate, not truly caring...  And yes, I've seen it before, but not for years.

Allyson came home right after the great scene that the movie is famous for.  (sidenote: best line in that exchange to me is "Use your head, it's that lump three feet above your ass!", which of course causes the crying)  But as the movie went on, and they ended up in the world series, I started getting into it.  I started explaining to Allyson about why missing the cutoff man is such a no-no, and how modern ball players screw that up all the time too, then I started talking pitching strategy.  "If the batter knows you know her tendencies, then the catcher has to change it up.  You can't throw three straight high heaters, thinking she's gonna keep swinging and missing, you have to throw the third one in the dirt damnit, just to keep her honest.  Some great catcher she is!", referring to the main character Geena Davis plays who is the catcher making the pitch calls against her kid sister the batter.  Next thing you know, kid sister smacks an inside the park home run (I knew this already) and wins the world series.  And how did I feel?  Pissed.  Angry.  Kinda yelling a little bit at the absurdity of that pitch call.  Yes, I'm a Rockford Peaches fan too, I guess.  I was definitely into it, and it was a fake game to which I knew the outcome well in advance.

Of course, Geena's character is my total opposite.  Great ball player (except in that instance), but totally willing to walk away and not give another thought to the game.  She could let it go, or compartmentalize it, or something.  Not me.  I'm still annoyed by it 4 hours later, and willing to admit that clearly, I have violated the spirit of my celibacy period (only took 12 days).  Still, I was so thrilled to see Cooperstown, Doubleday Field, and the outside of the HOF in the movie, if for no other reason than they're home to me now.  I love going over there and dreaming about my favorite game (in spite of the futility of my hometown team).   There is an exhibit on the AAGPBL there which is well done (and nothing like the one in the movie). 

Guess I'll hop back on the wagon in the morning.  And for the record, I would have told the pitcher to throw one behind the kid sister's head, just to mess with her - Bull Durham style.

a relevant link...

Who knew I had something in common with Bieber Fever!  http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/2011/02/for-the-love-of-bieber.html  (Thanks Leslie)

Hats

On a lighter note, I discovered yesterday that Allyson had hidden all of my sports related hats.  I love my hats.  They cover my bald spot.  They show my pride, they are my indelible marks of my allegiance.  I collect them from minor league teams I've visited and from championships won.  I had like 20 of these things.  Yesterday, I had a choice of two hats.  TWO!  A "Longs Peak" hat I bought one day when I had forgotten a hat before a trip to the mountains and a Saving Earth hat I bought at the Cal Academy of Sciences. 

You have no idea the despair I felt.  For the first time, I felt like something had been ripped out of me over this whole sports-celibacy fiasco.  I miss my hats.  My Potomac Cannons hat.  The Minnesota Wild hat I bought to piss off Avs fans when they lost to the Wild as an 8 seed a few years ago.  My Penguins hats,  GAAAAH!   Why this of all things is pushing me over the edge, I don't know.  But this one hurts the sports fan in me.

I get this sinking feeling she probably stole my Steelers tie too...

A long film session following a loss...

Here I am, 1 am and wide awake.  I hit a wall yesterday in my recovery - falling asleep around 5 or so on Tuesday night and only managing to stay awake for the hour or so it took for me to cancel classes on Wednesday knowing that I had no stamina for it.  But this early Thursday morning, my brain is in overdrive.   So I'm here blogging now, because at 1 am, I just can't sit in bed any longer and think about all that random crap that enters my head.

Instead, allow me to bring up something that I think is related to the topic of this blog - in part to get my mind off of this insomnia and in part because I've been struggling with the topic since my last post anyway.  I've been trying to decide what I'm really addicted to - sports or competition itself.  When I told my parents about this blog last weekend, they immediately assumed that I was talking about competition in general, not just my sports teams.  My dad told me stories about how when I was less than 2 years old, I hated losing so much that I would study games so that I wouldn't lose again.  Less than 2, and I hated losing so much started working on strategy.   I remember in 1st grade storming out of my gifted classes when I lost to the older kids.  I remember a phase around 4th grade when I studied chess so I wouldn't lose, even though I really hate chess.  I have gotten better at losing (I think), but the sting of it still sits with me for a long time after.  I can't stop myself from dissecting every move I made to find the moment when my odds of winning took the biggest hit.  Ask anyone who knows me well, and they'll tell you that I take losing and criticism hard.

I share this with you because I think it's part of the roots of some of my sports issues.  While I am satisfied with winning,  I hate losing.  The thrill of victory is less than the agony of defeat.  Success is expected.  Losing is intolerable, even when I can gracefully hide it.  And sometimes surprises me because I'll get those emotions when I don't even realize I'm competing.  It plays out as sports fandom with the teams I root for (see: Super Bowl XLV, et al.).  It plays out in my professional life as ambition, a quality that is tolerated or even desired (in moderation), but often drives me to try too much.  It definitely shows in  family dynamics, otherwise what else would family sit-coms discuss?  It can show up in a partnership or marriage - something I try to be very mindful to avoid, because competition here destroys the harmony of a partnership.  But it played out in a unique place tonight: in the topic of starting a family.

(Disclaimers:  At this point, I need to say a few things. I know that there's a lot that goes into the decision to start a family, and that honestly, I'm not sure if there has been a point in my 5+ years of marriage that I could point to and identify a missed moment. I also assure you that I would not bring a child into the world just to even up a scorecard that only I can know about. And I'm not going to discuss anything about the many conversations my wife and I have had on the subject - these are my thoughts and emotions only.  Her feelings on the subject are not at all a part of what I am discussing here.  This is a sliver of that particular pie, and the only one remotely germane to this blog on my reflections on sports)

In response to the holiday letter we sent out at Valentines Day, we heard from a few old friends (some of whom I will admit that I either dated briefly or wanted to date once upon a time) that they were expecting or had just given birth. I added up the total of all the friends I know through these responses, and facebook connections, and other communications and I realized that I felt like everyone was pregnant or a parent already but me.  I felt angry.  I have been telling my friends that I am happy for them (which I truly am), while hiding the disgust that I am woefully behind on the baby-making scorecard.

I feel like I've experienced enough of life to be a good father and yet, I'm not.  I want to tell you that it bothers me only because I'm ready to be a dad. But I can't. I can't tell you that, because it is also about knowing that so many of my friends from high school and college (and now grad school) are starting or have in some cases finished their child rearing.  I can't tell you that, because of my immediate family I'm the oldest  to start a family by almost 10 years and counting.  I want to tell you that those are not factors, but they are.  It makes me feel very foolish and immature admitting that, because those are all about competing with myself and some internal standard that I have no rational reason to hold.

I've let competition enter into something where it doesn't belong.   I know I'm not unique in this (see your local supermarket checkout line tabloids for many egregious examples).  But, I need to somehow make peace with not meeting the standards I set, despite the fact that the lesson I feel sports often teach (and that I guess the lesson I was born with) is that there is no value in falling short.  Intellectually, I know that there is value to be found in failure to meet expectations, but emotionally, I am not often willing to even look for any of that value.  Certainly not when it comes to sports competition on the field, but also not in life's competitions - large or small. 

I'm beginning to think that this blog is another post-loss film session in my head - causing me to lose sleep trying to figure out when I let my hatred of losing change my approach to life, and deciding if, or rather by how much, it transcends what a team I like did in a game.