Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Life Lessons







I feel like I write about football a lot in this class. I don’t mean to; I certainly don’t want to be labeled as a dumb jock.


WHILE I PLAYED FOOTBALL, I WASN'T THE STEREOTYPICAL PLAYER.

 It’s just that when I think of leadership, which is a subject this class tends to focus on, I can’t help but revert back to my days on the gridiron. Other than my father, football played to biggest part in shaping the person that I am today. It expanded upon the foundation of character that my parents set, showed me the importance of working within a group for a common goal, and taught me everything I know about leadership.

            In high school, I was lucky enough to have a coaching staff that didn’t focus solely on the x’s and o’s. They didn’t define themselves on victories and defeats (though they obviously did put a lot of emphasis on winning). They saw us—the players—for what we really are: young men who simply enjoy competing. We were people to them, not just pons in some brutal chess match. Seeing as how they understood this, my coaches seized the opportunity to not only shape us into good players, but good people. They hammered into us the idea of “character ethic as the foundation of success—things like integrity, humility, fidelity, temperance, courage, justice, patience, industry, simplicity, modesty, and the Golden Rule” [1]. Every week before our Monday practice one of the coaches would read us a short anecdote that contained within it a life lesson, such as the importance of a positive self image, accountability, and perseverance. To become a captain, a player had to have attended leadership class at 6 A.M., where the coach would teach out of Covey’s The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.


AHHH, THE BOOK THAT I SPENT EARLY MORNINGS WITH. IT TAUGHT ME QUITE A BIT ABOUT LIFE, LEADERSHIP, AND HOW TO BE SUCCESSFUL.

Even the most minute and seemingly irrelevant actions were of the utmost importance to them. Backside routes (a player runs as a decoy knowing he won’t get the ball) had to be run at full speed, we had to sit in the front row of all of our classes, players had to casually hand the ball to the referee after scoring instead of celebrating, and we always, always, responded to our coaches with “yes, sir.” They had a firm belief that you win football games with kids who have high character, kids who won’t quit, kids who will remain positive and keep plugging away. For the most part, they were right.

            Football also taught me about how to properly work with a group of people. I didn’t like all of my teammates, to be honest; yet, when we set out to practice during the week, and stood by each other Friday night, all of that went out the window. It didn’t matter to me how the teammates to my right and left differed; I was only concerned with whether or not I could count on them to fulfill their responsibilities. More than anything, that is the lesson that one must grasp to succeed at this sport. One must truly realize that “interdependence is the paradigm of we—we can do it; we can cooperate; we can combine our talents and abilities and create something greater together” [2]. It’s not possible to thrive at football trying to do everything on ones own. As a player, especially on defense, I had to focus on my area of the field to protect, while trusting that my teammates would do the same. If we all did our jobs correctly and relied on one another, then we were usually successful.


IN ORDER TO ACHIEVE SUCCESS ON THE FIELD, WE HAD TO TRUST AND RELY ON OUR TEAMMATES. THIS IS A SKILL THAT WILL HELP ME OUT LATER IN LIFE.

 Yet, we achieved this high level of performance and trust by adopting the proactive approach that our coaches instilled in us. Rather than waiting on factors outside to change on their own, “the proactive approach is to change from the inside-out: to be different, and by being different, to effect positive change in what’s out there—I can be more resourceful, I can be more diligent, I can be more creative, I can be more cooperative” [3]. We as players were constantly focused on improving at our respective positions. We didn’t just want to be good enough to beat out our teammates for a starting spot, but good enough to dominate our opponents. By improving individually—discovering how we can personally change for the better—we consequently made the team better. We understood that our team was far greater than the sum of our parts.


BY STRUGGLING, ENDURING, AND ESSENTIALLY GROWING UP TOGETHER, OUR TEAM BECAME VERY CLOSE AND SUCCESSFUL.

            However, football did so much more than just teach me about leadership. It provided an escape from the everyday monotony that was high school. I didn’t go out that much during those for years and I spent most of my time focusing on grades. Needless to say, I didn’t lead the most exciting lifestyle, but football was my sanctuary. It allowed me to step out of the AP classes, get away from the integrals and derivatives, to forget about Solomon’s song: it allowed me to become something that was so different from what I usually was.


I WAS A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PERSON ONCE I PUT MY HELMET ON. WELL, I WASN'T THIS COOL LOOKING, BUT IN MY MIND I WAS.

 My sympathetic imagination—“the ability of a person to penetrate the barrier which space puts between him and his object, and, by actually entering into the object, so to speak, to secure a momentary but complete identification with it”—allowed me to assume a new persona once my shoulder pads and helmet were strapped on [4]. It was on the blades of grass between the pylons when I felt the most alive. I looked forward to such a high every day. Often times, the idea of an exhilarating practice at days end is what kept me going. By “[leaving] the noise and discord of the [school day] and [giving] myself up to the harmony and rhythm of [sports], [I] came back renewed” [5].

            Looking back at the 6 years I spent playing the sport that some see as the apex of masculinity and ignorance, I truly am thankful for the amount of life lessons that it surprisingly taught me. I really do love and miss this game. “[That] is love, isn’t it? When you notice [something’s] absence and hate that absence more than anything? More, even, than you love [its] presence?”[6]


WHILE I WAS SAD TO LEAVE THE GAME BEHIND, IT WILL ALWAYS BE A PART OF ME. I WILL NEVER FORGET AND ALWAYS APPLY THE LIFE LESSONS THAT IT TAUGHT ME.

1) Steven Covey, 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, 18

2) Covey, 49

3) Covey, 89

4) Keats, course website, first definition

5) Covey, 292

6) Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated, 235

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