raiders

Rivalry

mikemjensen Football, Life's Truths, Vanity Tags: , , Leave a comment

Hey Kids,

One of the great things about sports is the release of emotions.

I dare to say for some, even many, the experience of a sporting event is as much as a lesson in humanities as is a stage performance or display of artwork.

Within the confines of the rules and conditions of a structured game, the human spirit, intellect, and abilities are put to the test against the outside elements, others, and/or oneself.

Challenges are faced and overcome or they remain insurmountable. Challengers are either conquered or surrendered to. Battles are won or lost. The collective battles are added up for a final tally and a winner declared.

And then repeated.

The importance of these arenas rests in the values of each individual. Those sporting events where the results induce a greater emotional outcome, easily become or favorites. These are he challenges that present the most likelihood of failing, and thus the greater joy in the victory.

In sports, when we face our rival, the thought of failure is unacceptable. It burns our soul. To lose, is to admit your failure in the stocks of declaring your purpose and failing. You invested and lost. The wound will never heal, even with future victories. Your wound is mocked and derided and preserved for any to recall and recount. A wound enjoyed by anyone desiring, without any chance to expunge.

This is a rivalry.raiders win

Tonight, I’ll go to bed, happy that for this night, a rival has been vanquished. An enemy that has tortured my soul for the eight previous battles will feel the same pain.

What is the humanity lesson? It’s better to win. Although the wounds of the past remain painful when thought upon, they need not be thought upon while in the sight of fresh wounds of my enemy.

I never said that humanity lessons are always nice.

 

Day 293

The Snake

mikemjensen Vanity Tags: , , Leave a comment

Hey Kids,

Today a childhood sports hero of mine passed away. I had no idea it was eminent and then the post appeared on my screen on Facebook.

Kenny Stabler was the first quarterback I ever knew. I knew very little about the actual game, but I knew Kenny Stabler. #12 he wore. Quarterback. Long haired renegade of the NFL’s renegade team. I remember drawing pictures of him and once asking my teacher how to spell Stabler. And always with the caption “Hut, hut, hike.”KennyStabler

The Raiders were IT in the East Bay in the 70’s and I grew up knowing it. Kenny Stabler was the main man.

Later I would become more familiar with Al Davis, and John Madden. I knew and liked many of the other players; Kenny, however was the quarterback. He was my favorite.

He was one of the few players I felt I would truly like to meet one day. Shake his hand, hear the voice for myself, and see that sly smile, like he knew what defense had been called.

I’ve bought other Raider jerseys but never felt worthy to own and wear #12. That would be reserved for a signed jersey on the wall.

I’m amazed how deeply the news has affected me. I didn’t know him or have any chance to meet him in the future. And if a chance meeting would’ve happened, it would have been just a friendly handshake, maybe an autograph. I know that.

But something that I can remember as far back as I can, is gone. Does it take something from my childhood or rather remind me that my own end is closer, I don’t know. Either way, a part is now somehow missing.

An interviewer once cited Jack London’s “Credo”. The connection being that Jack London was also from Oakland. The Interviewer read:

“I would rather be ashes than dust!

I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.

I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.

The function of man is to live, not to exist.

I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.

I shall use my time.”t_39819

He then asked Kenny to comment on what that meant to him. His response after a moment of contemplation, “Throw deep.”

Mr. Stabler, you didn’t win every game you played. You didn’t complete every pass you threw. You didn’t score every touchdown with 50 yard bombs. You didn’t save every game in the last 2 minutes. You threw deep enough, however, that the little boy that still lives inside me, the one with the over-sized helmet and asking his dad if we won yet, misses you already.

Farewell.

 

Day 136