This one ran during football season last.
Suppose there is a God (just for a moment, if you don’t believe in such a concept) and that this God, in His infinite wisdom and kindness, bestows upon one young man the gift of uncommon strength and incredible foot speed, to do with as the young man sees fit, which is what this God supposedly does in different ways to each and every person on earth. And this young man discovers that he is very skilled at the game of American football, and thus he devotes his life to this pursuit, presumably putting on hold his other goals of discovering the secrets to cold fusion and feeding the entire world with the fruits of his algae farm, while he spends some years in the National Football League.
This young man is one of that tiny fraction of one percent of humanity who is so gifted an athlete that he commands millions of dollars to play a child’s game in front of all those people each Sunday. He plays on a team that struggles to win, so he does not garner the praise and adulation that pours over some of the diva wide receivers in the NFL, but he makes far more money each season than most of the people watching him will see in many lifetimes. And it came to pass last Sunday that he was involved in a game, and this time his team was losing by only a few points as the clock wound down, and the play called for him to race far down the field to catch the pass that would score the touchdown that would win the game.
The center hiked the ball to the quarterback, who dropped back five steps. Meanwhile this young man ran into the heart of the enemy defense, faked into the center of the field, and then raced toward the end zone. The cornerback bought the fake, and our young man sped past him and was five yards ahead of anyone who could keep him from catching the ball when he reached the goal line. The quarterback saw him break into the open, and launched the ball in a magnificent high arcing trajectory, and it reached the speeding young man just as he crossed the line. The ball hit him squarely in both hands. The play was utter perfection, right up to the point where he dropped the ball. And because the young man dropped this ball, his team lost yet another game.
At the post game press interview, somebody asked this young man to explain why this happened. Let me summarize his response:
Obviously distraught that he had dropped the ball and cost his team the game, he stated that he would never, ever, forget how badly he felt at that moment. And then he told us all about how he had worshiped his God, and celebrated his God, and prayed to his God, and then he lambasted his God for letting him down at this crucial moment. Oh why had his God forsaken him?
Apparently, this young man was disappointed in what his God brought to the table for him to enjoy. In fact, he was outraged. Apparently, this young man thought he was entitled to more.
I watched this soap opera, and thought about it for a moment, and then I began to wonder...
If one believes in such things, God gave this young man everything he needed to become a football star, and thanks to this he made his way into a lucrative situation far better than any reasonable expectation, and then he was offered the chance to simply run down the field, where a perfectly executed pass laid the ball in precisely the perfect place for him to catch it, ie right into his two hands, and he could have been the hero. He screwed up and dropped the ball. God gave him everything he could possibly want to succeed, and with all that provided to him, he still dropped the ball. And he blames God.
Does any of this bother you? It bothers me. And what bothers me is that one word I mentioned a couple of paragraphs ago. Entitled.
Anybody watch LeBron’s return to Cleveland the other night? Me neither. But I heard about it. Feelings ran high in Cleveland last summer after one of the more excessively reported divorces in NBA history. Arguably, Mr. James could have handled things better, and the team owner could have handled things better, and the sports media could have handled things better, and this whole mess would have only fallen lightly upon us folks who really do have more important things on our minds. But with all the ruckus this silliness provoked, it was hard to ignore.
For those of you lucky enough to be out of the loop, LeBron James is an exceptionally talented basketball player who played for the Cleveland team for seven years, and pretty much single-handedly brought the local fans more success than they had seen since the dinosaurs retired. Apparently, these fans liked basking in the reflected glory of this one tall guy’s achievements, and many grew resentful when he left for greener pastures. The whole story is slightly more complicated than this, but for most rational folks it certainly is far less important in the whole scheme of life than most everything else.
Some fans probably took LeBron’s departure with a degree of equanimity, but the rest made angry calls to talk radio, burned his jersey on street corners, and made threats on his life. And when he walked onto the court in Cleveland for the first time since switching teams, those fans booed him and threw stuff on the floor, and generally acted like tantruming brats. They were angry with Mr. James, and they wanted the world to know.
And why, you might wonder? Well, maybe because they felt entitled to revel in the glory that they had done nothing to earn. And there is that word again.
This is the end of part 1. Next week I will have part 2 ready. (I hope) Your homework assignment will be to do a search on a guy named Steven Thrasher, and read his essay on how white folks have lost their minds since the inauguration of Obama, to be found in a recent edition of the Village Voice. Cause otherwise you might not be motivated enough to read part 2.
Bye
No comments:
Post a Comment