Reflections: Stoicism in Sport.
Football is back in our lives again, and it would seem every year I forget just how much I care about the game. Life is a game of sorts, so it makes sense why individuals would care so deeply for a seemingly arbitrary sport. We enjoy seeing other individuals work together to accomplish a goal inside a paradigm where the rules are clearly defined because in life they are not, and I suppose no matter what age you are, no matter where you find yourself in life, the game has a way of working itself into you. To the point where I find myself screaming at the television once again, well maybe not screaming (just using volume for emphases), but invested all the same.
Some of you may not get it, some of you just may not like it, and some might just be burnt out on how political it has become. (As far as the politics go there will be a more in-depth piece on it in the future, but for now let's just stick with the game itself.)
To you, I would say, either you get it, or you don't. You either played the game or you had it passed down to you by someone who mattered. A father, a brother, an uncle, or possibly just a friend. You bonded over the highs and lows of a season. Whatever it was it made you care. It made Sunday a day of importance; beyond a religion you couldn't yet understand. A day for your family, for you, for your community. It was a bond fostered deeper than almost anything this world can offer. You can say what you want, but there isn't much like that in this world. Beyond the aforementioned aspects of religion (and without getting into the exact parallels between the two), sports can be a connection that rises above that of even the church. You can be Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, Buddhist, whatever and you'll immediately have a connection with a complete stranger that surpasses your differences. I don't care for soccer, but the world cup is a perfect example of that power of sport. For a brief period, all that matters is the game, and every person engaged, no matter what your beliefs are, is united in their desire to watch that game. Now it also speaks to the inherent tribalism of humanity as we can’t play without someone to play against, but if we can remember the reasons we are there in the first place, then we can put aside childish behavior and enjoy it for what it is. Sports are the great equalizer. In play and in observance. In play it doesn't matter where you're from or what you do; if you can play you can play. In spectatorship all it takes is a logo’d hat to strike up an hour-long conversation between two strangers. I'll say it again. There isn't much like that in this world.
Sports have the power to connect individuals that madmen and dictators could only dream of. It's that power that seems to pull me back year after year, and this year started with a bang for this long-struggling NY Jet faithful. Yes, sadly 19 years ago, (19 years? For fucks sake.) I witnessed Curtis Martin run an 80-yard touchdown and that was it. I was all in. And believe it or not, I haven't wavered once in those 19 years, and they have been some fucking awful years. Years that would break even the toughest fans, but just like in life the low-lows make the high-highs that much better.
And it could not have started in a more NY Jets fashion. The debut of a 21-year-old rookie Quarterback culminated in a first down, first snap, first pass interception. Not just an interception mind you, but a pick-six, an interception that immediately leads to six points and a touchdown for the other team. That is literally the worst thing that can happen (baring catastrophic injury) to a rookie quarterback on their first play from scrimmage. Your entire life has lead up to this one moment, the very first play of the highest level of your career; you walk into a packed stadium, on the road, in primetime, on Monday Night Football - with not just the weight of the team, but the weight of the entire organization and the hopes and dreams of thousands of individuals that have been heartbroken time and time again- all on your shoulders. That's a lot of weight for a 21-year-old kid to handle. A weight that caused many other men to crumble and fall. The worst possible outcome of outcomes happens within the confines of the game you are playing. It happens to you on the biggest stage possible, in front of god, and the world, and what does this kid do with all that weight on his back?
He shrugs.
This kid screws up bigger and louder than most people do in their entire lives and what does he do? Does he scream and cry? Blame the officiating or his teammates? Does he throw down his helmet and smash it as some athletes would? As an internationally renowned “feminist” did with her racket recently. (Side note: if screaming and crying like a 5-year-old is equality then we should take a long look at what “equality” actually means. I don't care what your excuse is behavior like that is unacceptable and childish and before we even get to the sexist accusations; it was childish when McEnroe and Conor’s did, and it is childish now. And it is certainly not an example to make for future generations.)
To throw it back to my reason for becoming a Jets fan, Curtis Martin never bitched, moaned, or complained. He let his game do the talking, and when things didn't go his way, he didn't scream at an official, he didn't yell at his coach, he accepted it and moved forward. That is what a leader does. They do not point fingers. They do not cry. They put their heads down and go to work and their teammates follow their example.
That is exactly what Sam Darnold did.
That mother fucker walked off the field with an attitude that said “well, fuck, that happened.”
Came right back out to the field on the next series, completed nearly all of his passes, and capped it off with six. That 21 year old showed more maturity, grace, and mental fortitude than most of us do in our entire lives. Every single one of us should strive to handle life's missteps exactly this way.
This is also not meant to raise #14 to some level of divinity. I am sure he has and he will let his emotions and weaker demons get the better of him, as shall we all do, and will. In this instance though, he was a shining example of the stoic model for life. You screwed up worse than you possibly ever could with everyone watching? Good. Now it's out of the way. Now you can just fucking relax and move forward. Now did Sam Darnold have help? Of course, he did. It's a team sport. What is great about the game is that it best shows what can be accomplished by a group of individuals, moving towards a common goal, together. It is by and large the best metaphor, when done properly, for life. As it is when done poorly. Nothing is a better example of life's possible terrible outcomes than that of a team that is falling apart.
The coach has no respect, the owner is corrupt, the players are unmotivated, or worse, one player has put himself and his motivations and his desires above that of the entire team and done so for completely selfish and entitled reasons.
Darnold had a strong-minded and willed coach, a young-ball-hawking defense, and an offense that believed in him. All of that helped him shake off that colossal fuck up, but none of it comes close without the other. Without the stoic resolve of that kid, every other piece is for naught and vice versa. When it comes to accomplishing greatness, you can only do so much on your own, but the one and only thing you can do is lead by example. That is something that rests solely on your shoulders. It rests there so that when that one thing you'd prayed would never happen, inevitably does, you can do exactly what Sam Darnold did, shrug.
Now in extreme New York Jets fashion, they have lost their last three games since this stunning debut. They have come hurtling, crashing, back to earth. Losing to a division rival, a hobbling Cleveland Browns team, and a well-fought loss against the best defense in the league. Though still, Darnold showed that same resolve, and because of that I'm not worried, and I don't think his teammates are either.
