“Count Me Out, I F—ing Dare You”
About a year ago somebody asked me who I wanted to be. I had no idea what she meant. She pressed the point, and made me describe, in detail, what I aspired to be, emotionally, physically, financially, professionally, personally. When I was done describing this stable, fit, wealthy, successful, loving guy, she paused and said, “So be that person.”
It took me a while to decide she wasn’t totally insane, but in time I understood. We are who we believe we are. We are the narrative we write for ourselves. We are winners if we say we are winners, losers if we say we are losers, and on a certain level, it really is that simple.
I like sports. That may not seem too in line with an actor and aspiring bodhisattva, but I vaulted into a new plane of consciousness when I saw Reggie Jackson swat three home runs off three pitches in Game 6 of the ’77 World Series, small as I was, and there was no turning back. It was a magnificent feat that seemed unthinkable on such a grand stage.
In recent weeks New York Jets have intrigued me. They’re playing for a shot at the Super Bowl. And they’re not supposed to be. The coach is brash. The quarterback is a rookie. They’ve been told repeatedly that they have no real business playing at this level. But here they are, and for one simple reason. They believe they should be.
The Cinderella teams of sports find a place in our hearts. We walk this earth inadequate and unworthy, shamed into mediocrity and told we shouldn’t reach too high, we shouldn’t dream too much, and we shouldn’t expect much more than disappointment if we do. But then a team comes along, emerges from the shadows and takes their seat at the big table with the confidence of kings, and a dormant nerve-ending come alive.
We are reminded that things are possible. If we believe.
So…
For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.