Can't I Just Love Sports?

Earlier today, I got into a conversation with a group of people about sports. Are you a football fan? Are you a rugby fan? Are you and Aussie rules fan? Why do you support the teams you support? You SHOULD support X. The team you support sucks. I hate them. Standard sports conversation, right?

It got me to thinking about why my interest in sports has waned a little bit in the last couple of years. I think its for the same reason that I am so anti-organized-religion. Sport--or rather, the tribalism inherent in sport has become a way to divide people rather than a way to unite them. People commit violence over sports. Look at the riots in Vancouver a few weeks back that were the result of their team losing the Stanley Cup. Look at the number of times that riots happen at football matches. Wars have started because of sports. Just as wars have started because of religion. People have died because they supported the "wrong" team. Remember the Beckham effigies in England in 1998? Why are we still discussing Maradonna's "hand of god" 20 plus years on? Why do Liverpool fans hate Manchester United? Why do Arsenal fans hate Spurs fans? Why is there so much hatred that some away fans produce a hissing sound when their team is playing Spurs to "mimic" the sounds of the gas chambers, thereby expressing seriously nasty sentiments against Spurs' Jewish connection.

Some people will tell me that they support a team because it gives them a sense of community, a sense of belonging. That may be true...but ultimately just like the major religions, sports supporters are tribal, and therefore exclusionary, just like Churches, Mosques and Synagogues are. If you don't support team X, you don't belong.

Lately, I find myself not answering the question "what team do you support?" the way people might expect. I don't wear my England, Wasps or Chelsea shirts that much anymore. Now, my response tends to be that "I don't really support anyone, I just love watching the sport." The skill, athleticism and artistry inherent in a Xavi-Iniesta-Messi interplay, in an All Blacks-length-of-the-field score, in a tight spiral from Brady or Rodgers (or god forbid, Manning), in a beautiful passing shot from Federer or Nadal, or in a perfect overtake by Alonso.

Oscar Wilde said it well when he wrote that "patriotism is the virtue of the vicious." He was right...but maybe we could include "tribalism" in there too....But Erich Fromm said it better:

"Nationalism is our form of incest, is our idolatry, is our insanity. 'Patriotism' is its cult. It should hardly be necessary to say, that by 'patriotism' I mean that attitude which puts the own nation above humanity, above the principles of truth and justice; not the loving interest in one's own nation, which is the concern with the nation's spiritual as much as with its material welfare — never with its power over other nations. Just as love for one individual which excludes the love for others is not love, love for one's country which is not part of one's love for humanity is not love, but idolatrous worship"

I reckon that could easily be applied to sports. So from now on, i'll be raising a glass to athletic genius and skill no matter who performs it, instead of ranting and raving and getting all upset if someone from the "wrong" team pulls something special out of the hat. After all, its all just a game, isn't it? And we're all just humans trying to make the world better aren't we?? Maybe that's a bit to "cumbayah, hold hands in a circle" for some of you...but, so be it.

Phoenix

After waking up this morning, Aussie time, and reading a blog post by my dear friend Deb, I'm inspired to write this. Many of you will have noticed that I've had this image of a Phoenix up as my FB profile photo for some months now.

In ancient mythology, the Phoenix symbolizes rebirth and renewal. Those of you who know me well are aware that the last 3 years or so haven't been easy for me. I've finally confronted a lot of things about myself and my past that needed confronting, and fought--and am still fighting through depression. There are up days and down days. Thankfully the up days now outweigh the down.  With some amazing help, love and support from a select group of "Fabs' Jedis"--yes, that's what I call them, and they know who they are--I've made progress, and made huge changes to myself. For the first time in years I feel at peace and contented. I've come out of my emotional shell: when a song comes up on my Ipod that triggers sad memories or emotions, I cry while I'm walking down the street. If its one that makes me want to sing out loud, I do so--in spite of the fact that both of these "public displays of emotion" often elicit bemused glances from passers-by or fellow tram riders. Sometimes I break down in tears on the yoga mat, sometimes I burst out laughing.Other times I'm quiet and meditative...just...present.

People have told me that the changes to me are visible as well as emotional. I've been told that my posture is more upright, that my eyes are clearer and my brow less furrowed than it ever has been. Perhaps I should be more succinct: I'm in touch with my heart, and with my feelings. I'm in touch with and am finally finding the real Fabian.

It is those significant changes to myself that gave me a new vocation in life that I'm fortunate enough to be able to explore. The first 4 weeks of my natural medicine course have been incredibly profound. To realize that I can play a part in helping people to heal--and in turn continue my own healing has been extremely emotional at times.The "power of touch" is really...powerful.

All of this has been a revelation, and it still sometimes feels very weird and very new. Change can be hard to quantify, and re-reading the above I find it doesn't fully express what I'm trying to say-but that's the mystery of feelings and emotions--how do you explain them? The best we can do, is just to "let it flow"--and that's what this journey is about to me.

Melvin the Skateboarding Rhinoceros

Some of you may be aware of Tillman, the skateboarding bulldog. Let me introduce you to Melvin, the skateboarding Rhino. Melvin (christening my own), is the center-piece of the first funny public transportation safety campaign I've ever encountered. Most safety posters on public transportation are designed to scare the s**t out of you. The warning on the accompanying posters reads: "If you saw a rhino on a skateboard heading your way, you'd get out of the way, right?...A tram weighs about as much as 30 rhinos..."

Personally, I can't help cackling at this one: Its especially funny if you've had some shall we say "happy herb," and you've got Credence Clearwater Revival's "Lookin' Out On My Back Door" playing on your Ipod, when you see a tram painted like this:

Try to picture Melvin rocking down your street on his gigantic board, and I guarantee you'll crack a smile. I'd certainly get out of Melvin's path. But I'd stay nearby just to watch his skills!

Transience of Life

I miss my friends and my mentors in the United States and the UK. Granted, my distance from them--even if temporary--is of my own making, my own choosing. But the reality of distance has made me much more observant and reflective about the reality--and frailty--of human relationships. The reality is, though we may not want it to be so, being at long distances makes it harder to maintain contact. We naturally gravitate to people whom we can interact with on a daily basis, and if someone moves away, communication with that person tends to taper off gradually. I've been guilty of it myself. We all lead busy lives. One of the downsides of modern communication methods is their impersonal nature. So my resolution as we move towards the half-way mark of 2011 is to make a concerted effort to stay in touch with the people that mean so much to me, and who have given me so much joy, love and support. So please forgive me if sometimes come across as nagging or pestering in communication. Its because I want to retain the relationships that mean so much. Love to all.

RIP Clarence Clemons

I'd intended to write my first post tomorrow, to start this blog on a Monday. Then I tuned into CNN online this afternoon only to read that the great Clarence Clemons, Sax player of the E-Street Band has died in the aftermath of a stroke. A great loss to music. I'll never forget my first Springsteen gig, and hearing the monster solo he played in Jungleland. Shakespeare said it best: 

"The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils."

RIP Big Man