Another Facet of the Diamond
by Jody Wilson
I love football. I still love football; it’s one of the few constants in these last years of intense personal change and a deep reordering of priorities. Sometimes I judge my love for the game. It’s too violent, I tell myself; it’s not a spiritual game; people who are football fans are not spiritual people. How I be a ‘real’ Buddhist and a ‘real’ Bears’ fan?? I’m sometimes ashamed of my enthusiasm for the game, because I think it doesn’t reflect well on me or my practice. It doesn’t “fit” with being a Buddhist. Happily, however, my practice shows me that the messy self-judgment and the egotistical concern about what others may think about me shows more about where I’m stuck than my pure love for the game does!
Football is a game of opportunity, commitment and purpose, a game of emotion and momentum. When it’s played at the level of “skillful means” it is a dance of bodies through space and time; it’s not being afraid to throw deep; it’s about being totally aware on a field of the most violent, in-your-face distractions.
During a good game, well played, you can actually see the momentum change. . . the moment, the shift of energy, that occurs when one player, or several players become charged up with it. Often, the score hasn’t changed, the weather hasn’t changed, the players on the field haven’t changed - it, the Ineffable It, doesn’t really change either, although that’s the way it looks. Players suddenly open to it, get it and most times, literally speaking, run with it. I love to see that.
Ken “The Snake” Stabler, legendary quarterback of the Oakland Raiders, was once asked the meaning of Jack London’s famous credo:
The Hall of Famer thought for a while and then quietly replied, “Throw deep.”
We can all bow to that.
I love football. I still love football; it’s one of the few constants in these last years of intense personal change and a deep reordering of priorities. Sometimes I judge my love for the game. It’s too violent, I tell myself; it’s not a spiritual game; people who are football fans are not spiritual people. How I be a ‘real’ Buddhist and a ‘real’ Bears’ fan?? I’m sometimes ashamed of my enthusiasm for the game, because I think it doesn’t reflect well on me or my practice. It doesn’t “fit” with being a Buddhist. Happily, however, my practice shows me that the messy self-judgment and the egotistical concern about what others may think about me shows more about where I’m stuck than my pure love for the game does!
Football is a game of opportunity, commitment and purpose, a game of emotion and momentum. When it’s played at the level of “skillful means” it is a dance of bodies through space and time; it’s not being afraid to throw deep; it’s about being totally aware on a field of the most violent, in-your-face distractions.
During a good game, well played, you can actually see the momentum change. . . the moment, the shift of energy, that occurs when one player, or several players become charged up with it. Often, the score hasn’t changed, the weather hasn’t changed, the players on the field haven’t changed - it, the Ineffable It, doesn’t really change either, although that’s the way it looks. Players suddenly open to it, get it and most times, literally speaking, run with it. I love to see that.
Ken “The Snake” Stabler, legendary quarterback of the Oakland Raiders, was once asked the meaning of Jack London’s famous credo:
“I would rather be ashes than dust.
I would rather my spark should burn out in a
brilliant blaze
than be simply stifled.
I would rather be a superb meteor,
with every atom of me in magnificent glow,
than a sleepy and permanent planet.”
We can all bow to that.
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