Sports and Life and Kindergarten

When the final buzzer sounded the scoreboard read 3-2, and while one team celebrated by mobbing their goalie in front of his net, the other stood around on the ice in front of their bench, bewildered perhaps, disappointed for certain, wanting nothing more than to leave the ice and retreat to the confines of the dressing room. But as is tradition, the players wait for the other team to finish celebrating the win, and then line up at centre ice to shake hands with each other, the sportsmanlike way to end a competition neither wanted to lose but only one was destined to win.

The boys lost their game Wednesday night, their 3rd in 4 nights thanks to an overtime tie on Sunday that forced an entire new game to be played the next night to determine who would advance to Wednesday’s game. In that replayed game, the boys dominated and had determination and fire and a purpose, and willed the outcome early on in the contest. Both teams were aware of what was at stake; lose and your playoffs would be over, win, and you continue to play towards the B-side final, where the eventual winner will face the A-side champs in a 3 game series.

It was not the same level of play or effort that they brought to Wednesday’s game, against a new opponent from the other city division, a team that had only won one game in the regular season, but which had already won 2 in the playoffs prior to this game. Overconfident? Perhaps. Tired? Maybe. Both likely played a factor to some degree, but I think the overwhelming determinant in the outcome was a team-wide indifference to the opponent. There was no history, no personal battles to overcome or settle between players, no grudge that pushes one to higher levels of performance to best the other. They didn’t win their final game, very few teams do, but they did have a successful season measured in terms of personal and team growth and especially in terms of friendships. Still, the season came to an abrupt end.

We accept that finality when we enroll our children in sports programs, that there will be winners and losers – there has to be in competition – even if you removed the scoreboard and told the kids the outcome of the game didn’t mean anything, that it was just for fun, they’d still know which side scored more often. It’s human nature to know. It’s encoded in our DNA from back when we had to outrun the lions for survival. You knew which side was winning or losing; you had to know, or you got eaten. Talk about losing.

But we also teach our children that sharing and getting along with others and being polite and considerate are important traits and values. We grade them accordingly on their kindergarten reports, and then somewhere along the line we blur the rules and values and introduce competition within that framework – a necessary tool for self growth, and for the advancement of society itself, and a natural trait shared by all species on this planet – and we heap praise on those who excel, and spend considerable time and money on those who fall a bit short of the expected means and norms, whether due to aptitude, motivation, or will.

Our societies require persons of all abilities and aptitudes to work together for the betterment of all, in whatever meaningful ways they can. There is a commonality of purpose that they should all benefit and be allowed to enjoy the same basic human rights and freedoms, with an expectation of fairness and justice that we first introduced as parents and reinforced in the school setting in those early years. But then we remember that other basic trait of human survival – competition, and when we throw in the element of greed, things start to get complicated. Everyone wants to win – ask the boy’s hockey team and their opponents. But winning fairly and winning justly are really what we want when we compete. Winning due to an unfair advantage isn’t sportsmanlike.

In sports we agree to a set of rules, and ensure we have competent referees on hand to enforce those rules. We also agree to the penalties meted out should those rules be broken. And then we compete. Yes there are risks involved. And sure the refs may make mistakes – they are human after all – but we teach the participants to respect the rules and the referees no matter the outcome, and as coaches and parents we further agree to provide the necessary guidance to help ensure this is done in a safe and fun environment to minimize the risks of injury involved. Is it perfect? No, but it does a pretty good job. And if necessary, the rules are tinkered with to perfect them and level any inequalities or to better suit the participants. We don’t let the important games get played without the rules or the referees – that’s just asking for trouble.

Ask those who have been foreclosed thanks to the Wall Street mortgage fiasco. Or those swindled by phony investment schemes and the con men that pedal them. Where are the values of being considerate and polite and getting along well with others in that context? Where’s the sportsmanship? At least in the kindergarten classroom we trusted that the teacher would be watching to ensure fairness and order prevailed. As adults we trust that we will deal with each other with that same intention. We should know better. Anyone who grew up with siblings knows Darwin was right – survival of the fittest is law. You learn fast to adapt and overcome in order to compete – whether it’s for the last piece of chocolate cake, or the front seat, or the bigger bedroom. Mom and dad can only referee for so long. Life isn’t fair no matter how much we delude ourselves that it should be, or can be. But should it be lived with an eye towards greater sportsmanship?

It takes time to perfect rules for any sport – any activity for that matter – its part of the human condition; we need boundaries and guidelines within which to operate. Part of that condition also acknowledges and requires consequences of action, Newton’s 3rd law of motion got that one right, but maybe what we also need is a shift in consciousness back towards the entire group as a whole. Maybe we got it more right back in kindergarten than we know.

Maybe we need to bring back Time Outs. At the very least let’s bring back Snack and Nap time.

Connections

The sun is streaming in through the window of my relocated office, washing the long desktop in warm bright light already at this hour; a sure sign Spring is coming, though we still wouldn't know it by stepping outdoors. It's been another cold week, and if one believed in the saying we teach to elementary school children, this would be the March Lion arriving, soon to give way to that loveable Lamb who, religious undertones aside, will usher in April and Easter this year.

We've given up on shovelling the driveway. Well, we being me, the one who does such things, and with the cold and flu that has gripped our house of late, outdoor chores like keeping the drive clean and being watchful for those dreaded ice dams over the entryways have seen very little improvement since mid February. Luckily Mother Nature has cooperated during our time of ill health, and has seen fit to keep the new snowfall amounts to a minimum, and nary a melting temperature anywhere near us, so things have been just fine. Of course some of the retirees on the Bay don't take to the chores so nonchalantly - its a routine that must be followed and so their walks and drives continued to be spotless while those more busy with life and chasing kids and sicknesses and the like can be spotted easily if you care to watch as you drive past.

It's hockey playoff time, so we've spent much more time lately in various rinks across the City watching not only the boy's games, but those of his friends and former teammates, cheering and supporting them on and reacquainting ourselves with friends we haven't seen since football season or last hockey season before we joined the A1 team last October. It's a welcome sense of community when you walk into an arena and see familiar faces with ready smiles and eager ears and a desire to share with you the latest news from their corner of the sporting world.

Of course for some the news involves more meaningful topics, depending on how well you were acquainted with the bearer of the news, and as you listen and laugh and share, you realize how important it is to stay connected, especially during the dog days of winter, when shutting yourself off becomes very easy to do. For this crowd here tonight at the rink, this is our Sunday after Church community visit; our town hall meeting place; our common altar 200 feet by 85 feet, frozen solid, adorned with red and blue lines. A place for kids to play and compete; a place for parents and friends to watch and cheer, some more loudly and more vocal than others, and some offer more criticism than encouragement - a slice of the larger community as a whole.

I realize as I watch these playoff games that it is much easier to enjoy the game as a game if you have little vested interest in the outcome - especially if two of your former teams are pitted against each other - makes it difficult to choose sides so you fly the Swiss flag and play Neutral - as opposed to watching the boy's team, where the outcome is more closely connected to your heart and your focus more squarely placed on a few select individuals. You vow to remind yourself of that insight the next time he plays...

It is at these playoff games where the boys (and girls) who have come to watch, and who currently play on different teams but have past connections, reveal that they are still indeed kids - 12 year olds in this case - as they run together in groups around the stands, moving throughout the game, playing and bonding and cementing the friendships that are the real reason we encourage them to play sports in the first place. They could just as easily be at home in front of some game system or computer or face stuck inches away from a smartphone screen, but they are here, together, in person, connected.

Connections. They are important for us, and we forget that until we lose them, or neglect them, and then we're quickly reminded that we are not alone nor do we wish to be. We need the interaction, the magnification of our human experience that comes from sharing it with others to enrich our lives, to sustain us during the quiet times, the lonely times, which we need as well. The contrast between them is what makes each of them so worthwhile. Like Winter ever-changing into Spring, the contrast is what makes the change so inviting. Take that with you as you move about your day, cherish the stillness when you find it, but welcome the calamity and 'noise' that breaks that still silence, and lets you know you're living a life worthwhile.

Questions and answers

What do you think, he asked, Would you want to know?

I was about to answer instantly, but stopped to organize my answer and by doing so, clarify my thoughts on the matter. My mind raced around the idea so I could quickly form an intellegent response and not leave my father hanging on the other end of the telephone call with empty air.

He was calling about mom, and gene testing in particular, and whether I'd want to know if, through the process she would soon be undertaking, it were discovered that I was genetically predisposed to whatever degenerative condition she is slowly losing ground, would I want to know that now, at the present, while I am healthy and active and with the rest of my life ahead of me. I thought I knew my answer to his question, it seemed straight forward, but I stumbled when I started to speak, obviously not entirely certain.

Sure, I said, Why not? We blindly go through so much of this life not knowing what might be around the next bend, and while that certainly makes things interesting and far from dull, we can't escape the fact that one day each of us will reach the end of our journey here, and maybe by knowing ahead of time, perhaps early enough for science and medicine to provide assistance, we can lessen or maybe even eliminate much of what mom is currently going through. Shouldn't we give it a shot? Maybe it's just me, but I' d rather know my enemy going into a fight if I had the opportunity.

I've been sick again this week, thanks to the boy; we each had kicked that cold finally and were returning to feeling like our normal energetic and capable selves (well except for last weekend's migraine, but that's almost my new normal these days anyways) when Tuesday afternoon he returned home from school sniffling and blowing his nose with increasing frequency, and then coughing that deep chesty productive cough... Just my luck, I went from migraine to sinus headache and cold symptoms overnight.

I blame February and its final arctic blast that it threw at us this week, more bitter cold temperatures just when it seemed we were making progress. The days are getting longer and there's warmth in the sun's rays finally too; more birds singing in the morning light, and the squirrels are more active again on the wires and in the highway of branches in the skies out back, but once again we're reminded that we aren't the ones in charge here really, and we're forced to bundle up again or still, and leave that wishful Springtime thinking for later days.

Kinda like mom. The doctor's are still trying to provide her and dad with a definite diagnosis for her condition; she's lost most of the use of her lower extremities now and relies on a wheelchair for mobility, and her memory and judgement have certainly been affected by something as well, whether from the same disease or issue they aren't certain, so testing is ongoing as they try and put some label on her increasingly declining physical and mental health. The experts certainly aren't in the know, and mom is most definitely not in control of her fate at this point, that much is obvious.

Dad was also calling to get my input on the hospital's request for background family medical history as a tool to help them zero in on her diagnosis. She'll be visiting the Genetics Clinic here in the city next month, and as a first step in their attempt to provide an accurate clinical diagnosis of her condition as well as treatment options and the likelihood of recurrence of the condition in family members, they have forwarded a form for dad to fill out and bring with them. It asks for a basic family tree of sorts for mom, and along with the usual names and birthdates and dates of death of her mother and father and siblings and their children and her grandparents and dad's parents and siblings etc, they'd like any relevant medical information that might be useful in helping them with their work.

Not exactly a simple task at the best of times, nevermind one month before said appointment.

But, you do what you have to do, and since I've got a file folder full of family history facts, he called me and I promised him I'd find what he needs as best I can with what I have in my posession, but we both knew he'd be making a few phonecalls in the coming weeks asking for help from the ones who are usually there when you need them at times like these: your family.

So he'll be foraging along the branches of our family tree asking questions in search of information that may yield the fruits of medical knowledge of mom's affliction, like those squirrels in the trees out back: Hoping for Spring, but finding Mom's Winter still in full force.

I think I'd want to know the answers to those questions long before they needed to be answered, don't you?

Keeping track of things

It was one of those typical February weeks last week, the kind that brings a mixed bag of weather - it started off way above normal with lots of melting and warm temperatures that shrunk the snow on the roofs and backyards to more manageable depths, and if we weren't careful we could have been lulled into that false sense of security and made to believe that was the end of winter; that spring was just around the corner, but we know better. And true to form, after a few days of flirting with that lovely spirit, Spring, we returned to face our long term partner, Winter, with windchills and extreme blizzard conditions by weeks end.

I welcomed that warmth of the early week as I visited the hospital on Tuesday morning for a CT Scan of my brain, an attempt by my family physician to get as much information about where I am currently, physiologically, regarding the recurring headaches and migraines and maybe rule some things out once the scan results come back this week, or maybe the scans will shed some light on an unknown issue that is affecting me. Either way, I hope we learn something. I'm looking forward to seeing the scans firsthand actually, and I'm not sure if that's normal or not. I think it would be fascinating to see what's what inside my head. At least I hope there's something in there...

As the temperatures dropped, I followed up the CT Scan with a round of bloodwork on Friday morning, the last bits and pieces of the puzzle for the doc to use in helping me figure out whats going on. Having a benchmark for those frequently discussed numbers like blood-sugar and cholesterol, and the like can't hurt. Though it may open my eyes to where I really am healthwise as opposed to where I think I am. I know that is a good thing also, delusion is never healthy. Let's see where I'm at, then go from there. On one hand I want to know theses things, to get a real sense of where I am at, but on the other there's a lovely security in remaining oblivious to your reality - though one can only hide in that frame of mind for so long before reality takes a nasty swing at you once more.

With the tests behind me I looked forward to a relaxing weekend with only a few items of note on the family schedule - the final regular season hockey game for the boy Saturday afternoon (they lost and now playoffs start this coming Saturday), and an out of town practice on Sunday morning - both were things I enjoy, getting out and watching the game as well as the social aspect that surrounds the whole process of a hockey season. Theses people become a bit like family after 4 months - you didn't choose them, and some you have to put up with, but for the most part they are good people with good kids and you're better off for having known them.

I should have known better.

The headache that struck me late Friday night was much more like some other family members perhaps, it arrived uninvited and stayed way too long, and didn't leave me with any relaxing free time, regardless of my fairly light schedule. I'm still fighting some pain today, having enjoyed the sensation of being woken up out of a decent night's sleep by the pounding of the blood vessels as the medications wore off. This bout has been difficult to treat effectively, nothing seems to offer any lasting relief, but that's part of the process too, I suppose. I'm keeping a diary of symptoms and weather conditions and foods I've eaten as the headaches progress, should something reveal itself to me through the introspection.

You can learn a great deal about yourself if you keep track of things and pay close enough attention.

I've learned that I get cranky in the hours leading up to a headache - but that's difficult to use as a precursor - thanks to a decently sarcastic nature that lurks beneath the surface, but even I know when I'm more off base than usual, so maybe we'll keep an eye on that. I've also seen a correlation to craving certain foods - like salty snacks and dense carbs - not that I'm going out looking for salt licks to get my fix - but I am cautious whether the salt cravings are an indicator of something about to happen, or if my giving in to the craving and the increased sodium intake has a cause and effect relationship on the pressure and pain and light and noise sensitivity.

For now I'll press on, and do what I can to maintain as normal a routine as possible, and watch the world around me and see how it affects me. That's pretty much what I do anyways, only now I'm keeping more formal notes on the process.

So welcome to another typical February week. The weather is predictably unpredictable, and affecting my health just as unpredictably. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather flirt with Spring a while longer and leave these winter related issues far behind me. But we don't get to choose, do we. Like the CT Scan and the bloodwork - I've done as much as I can do; now I'll just have to wait and see what becomes of it, and deal with it when the time comes.

But I'll warn you if I'm feeling cranky...

Honest Change

I kept one eye on the World stage this week, knowing that history of some sort or another was being made, while going about my week, and I certainly could not have predicted the week's outcome in Egypt on Monday, I doubt many could have forseen the way things played out, least of all the people in the streets protesting the existing conditions and seeking real, lasting, changes to the way the world's oldest civilization has been governed.

Sometimes that's the way it goes. Those who are desperately seeking something seem to be the most surprised when they get that very thing. We're used to things always being the way they are, the way they've always been, certain, comfortable - even if conditions are harmful or unhealthy - change is difficult; even though it is the only sure thing we'll ever know, change is our biggest obstacle to finding peace with our lot in life.

We're feeling like bears again in these early days of February, our natural instincts causing us to eat more and crave more substantial, starchy foods, fatty foods so we store enough energy to last the harsh winter days our ancestors were accustomed to, and to which our genes have been adapted, and we feel sluggish and slow and moderately depressed in the low light, long dark days, even though we're seeing more evidnce of Spring on the horizon. We know we ought to change our ways, exercise more and eat more healthier, better foods, but we find ourselves unable to change, the anticipated difficulty of recreating ourselves seemingly more painful than the certain detrimental damage we're causing to our bodies should we continue to ignore the signs and remain where we are.

We tell ourselves we'll do what needs to be done, that we'll consciously change our approach, that with the longer days and warmer weather we'll revert back to our more active selves. But the truth is that we are demanding changes that we, as of yet on some level, do not fully believe we can accomplish, and we sabotauge our efforts because it's easier than facing ourselves honestly and courageously doing what needs to be done.

A world away, an oppressed people rally against the political staus quo, demanding change, demonstrating en masse, publicly declaring their wishes; their hopes; their dreams of freedom to choose. And to their surprise, the wheels of change begin to slowly turn in their favor, and they celebrate the sweet victory they've won. Meanwhile we struggle privately with ourselves, with something we have absolute control over, and find little solace in our efforts.

Maybe it's time we look in the mirror and finally admit that it's easier to demand change of others than of ourselves, but that if we really want anything to be different than what it is today, we have to get honest and be accountable to ourselves, and start today.

No one else will ever demand those changes for us.

Rinkside

I'm sittng in a cold, cavernous, steel building on a Tuesday evening in February, watching 12 year old boys learn and practice the fine skills of our true national sport, hockey, and I wonder if they know how lucky they are. They aren't the top level of players at this age, these boys are one level below 'the best', which at this age may be due to size, strength, desire or, sadly, parental political interference, and they know this, and I'm sure it plays on their minds at times, but they work hard (most of them) and skate fast and enjoy the hitting and physicaity that this level of the game allows them.

I watch as they pass and shoot and work through the drills designed to help them improve their basic skills, and those drawn up to accelerate the team based aspects of the game, and its easy to forget that this is indeed a game they are playing, as the drills could be mistaken by an outsider to be some form of punishment, and the shouts of the coaches, perhaps verbal abuse, if taken out of context.

Games are supposed to be fun, enjoyable pastimes; distractions from reality and not forced tests of physical endurance and intestinal fortitude. But our society, no longer the warrior classes of ancient history, still finds a thrill in victory - be it a game of checkers vs a sibling, or with more civic pride and bragging rights on the line: professional sports franchises vying for the National Title. But there should be a difference between what is 'expected' of an employee (player) employed by a professional business enterprise (the team) versus kids playing and learning a game for physical fitness and personal enjoyment. Unfortunately that line gets blurry the older the kids get, or the more skilled the players are within a given age group.

So the governing bodies draft codes of conduct for coaches, players and spectators, ensuring everyone involved in amateur athletics understands and behaves properly for the betterment of all involved - but that's the utopian ideal. The reality is usually much different, with sports becoming a way of life, and other interests, hobbies and pursuits getting left behind in the athletic wake. A healthy balance is what is needed; our goal should be to create independent, critical thinking, productive members of society, who can contribute to the greater whole. Travel, the arts, educational, religious and cultural studies should be encouraged as well as athletics if we as a society are to continue pushing boundaries and creating positive, lasting, caring change.

A slapshot rattles of the crossbar behind the goalie, and the puck ricochets up and off the plexiglas behind the net, and I'm brought back to the present reality. The shooter, frustrated that he has missed his intended target, slams his stick on the ice and hangs his head as he swoops behind the goal, retrieves the errant puck and returns back to the drill in progress, a few good natured jokes and jabs are thrown his way as he joins the rest of his teammates, and I smile a contented smile, having been on both sides of the exchange before.

I realize that one can't dismiss these kinds of experiences - failure at a task brings about a focussed energy and a desire to improve. These are life lessons in short form. It isn't just about physical skill and execution. There's more happening out on the ice than you first realize - and even one who has played and practiced as these young men are tonight sometimes forgets that.

They're learning the subtlties of teamwork and dedication. Of hard work and self discipline; checking ones ego at the door for the good of the team. And while few of them currently realize the value of this education they are receiving on these winter evenings, they will someday, and then they too will look back fondly as they sit in the bleachers watching their sons and daughters play this sport, or any sport for that matter, and smile and wonder if those kids know how lucky they are...

Snow Days

We had a little bit of every kind of weather this week, bitter cold windchills of more than 40 below (either temperature scale, take your pick) combined with snow squalls and white out conditions, followed by a couple days of melting complete with rain that promptly froze into a layer of instant ice. Welcome to February.

But while the majority of the continent was digging out from under all that white stuff while stuck at home on snow days; work closed and school cancelled - we sat alone it seemed, marvelling at the weird weather all around us, enjoying the above freezing temperatures long enough to realize that melting in February means ice dams and leaky roofs if you aren't careful, then we grabbed the roof rakes and shovels and headed back outside.

More kids (and parents too) called in sick this week; still victims of that cursed cold that has us all in its clutches - you saw the effect of all this first hand whenever you were out, but especially at the local hockey rink, where all the teams played with shortened benches, and you saw and heard the young charges hacking and coughing and wiping their noses and leaving a trail of germiness behind them on the bench; their coaches fearing for their own safety, as well as trying to figure out how to ice a competitive team while juggling the short of breath with the few healthy players left.

We ventured out mid morning yesterday, running errands on a Saturday before the eventual crowds became too much to bear, and I almost became a statistic while walking in the hatched crosswalk area at Home Depot - Mr "I've got an urgent home repair problem and can't be bothered to stop for pedestrians" plowed right on through as we walked towards the store, never looking anywhere around him; oblivious to the world; an idiot in an idiot's paradise apparently. We shook our heads and continued on, minding the icy footing below, and went about buying the electrical bits and pieces we came for - adding an undercabinet light to the new office cabinetry - a job for another weekend.

It wasn't much better at the grocery store just across the parking lot, but at least in there the worst you're going to get is maybe a cart load of Super Bowl goodies slammed into your backside as you step around the loitering shoppers while trying to dodge the Commando super-mom with her shopping game face on. It could have been worse, there could have been a stroller...

Stopping at the stop light on our way to return the wrong style HDMI cables, we were treated to the sight of one of those lovely specimens, the impatient driver who desperately needs to time the changing of light to the point where he's now 2 car lengths in front of the stop line, and half way through the intersection, bobbing forward in place like a toddler doing the pee pee dance, and behind him is another, inching forward, right on his bumper, both waiting for the green light so they can spin out and turn into the mall, and find those elusive available parking spaces before anyone else. They must be in the zone.

Then there was the car, driven by one of the more senior members of society, turning left on the green arrow, inches away from running over the two university students walking across the crosswalk on the end of 'walk' signal - sure somebody was in the wrong, maybe the girls were late in getting across, but a few seconds of the drivers time shouldn't be that much to ask for in the name of courtesy and safety, should it?

Have we become that distracted? Are we that impatient that we can't pay just a wee bit more attention to the world around us and put our own interests on hold and "all just get along?" Where's the fire? What's the rush? Better yet, what's the point? What kind of society are we creating as we almost take out pedestrians with our SUV's in our hectic, stress-inducing haste to get it all done, and get it all done now? Have we lost so much contact with each other that we've forgotten the basic tenants of human kindness?

It's easy to shake your head in wonder at the audacity of some of those around us - they make it so easy! and who hasn't felt pity for those poor souls, while at the same time taking some bit of superior satisfaction that it wasn't you (this time)? I'm fairly certain the shoe has been on the other foot, hasn't it? You've been that guy at Home Depot before - you just never bothered to notice who you cut off, or who you almost ran over. And you've also been that impatient lead-footed Nascar wannabe at the stop light, roaring away from the line to God knows where, too fast for everyone's good, and too absorbed in your own story to see, let alone care, about everyone else around you, inches from taking out the two university students crossing the side street.

Maybe that's why we get those weird storms that bring snow days to a 2000 mile stretch of humanity from Texas, across the midwest and on into the Maritimes. If we aren't willing to slow down and be a little more respectful of each other of our own volition, maybe someone or something else will, under the guise of another foot of snow, or that sudden onset of chest pain. Maybe its a warning. Life gives you what you need, when you need it - maybe it's time we paid attention to what we are getting and slowed down long enough to figure out why.

I'll thank you the next time I'm crossing the street.