There are rules. They may not be spoken, written, or heard. But these rules can be felt. They’re known, and for the most part they are followed. There’s a few technical terms for this process. Enculturation. Socialization. The world forms around us, guides us, and tell us to follow these rules. Or else.
There are players. There are the type of players who play by the rules, and then there are the players who refuse. Playing by the rules is safe. The game goes as planned; the result is rarely a surprise. The risk these players, the rule abiding athletes, face: is to themselves. A predictable life. A safe game. The end result can often times be underwhelming, making them wish maybe just once they’d played dirty or even warmed the bench. If only they’d taken a moment–just watched for one second.
The rule breakers don’t have it much better. What is there to gain by abstaining from play? Sure, make your own rules, face the consequences for breaking their rules, refuse to play once in a while. But eventually the game will go on without you. It passes you by, oblivious. And even if you stay in the game, you take the chance that the other players won’t like to play by your rules.It’s getting to be that time of year. February 14th, and the joy that it brings. That last sentence was written in sarcasm, for those of you who don’t read it fluently. This year I’ve been thinking a lot about the game. The rules.
To some people, it’s a Hallmark holiday at best. Why should one day out of the year be any different? You can show the people you care about, well, that you care about them all year, every day, any day you choose. But these people probably don’t. They’re playing by their own rules, however admirable they may be. If you’re team doesn’t know your rules, you’re finished.
Some people go all out. Flowers and chocolates and stuffed animals and dinner. And dessert. They’re playing by the rules. The rules of clichés, and obligatory romance. But, lets face it: who doesn’t want to be picked to play on that team? At the very least, for the dessert. Try and convince me you couldn’t go for a cookie right this second.
For others, it’s a day to drink the feelings. Eat the absence. Even the kid who’s picked last knows the rules of the game. Knows what it means to be picked last. Sometimes we forget just to turn our heads to the side, and realize there’s half the team benched right along side us.
But sometimes it can be nice to sit it out. No pressure. Playing the game, either by the rules or against them, can be a lot of work. Take that moment to get your head back in the game. How do you want to play? What rules can you break? What rules will you follow? It doesn’t have to be black or white. Sometimes it’s nice in the gray.
At the end of it all, when the pitch is quiet and the wounds are wrapped, it doesn’t really matter. Scores are just numbers. Trophies will be handed out all over again next year. Players are traded, and others retire altogether. What’s going to do you the most good, isn’t winning. Loosing sucks, but you learn. In truth, it really is how you play the game.
Post a Comment