KUNG FU UNIVERSITY

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When I was about 11 years old I took up martial arts at a local park for three reasons: #1 It was a free class, #2 My uncle told my mom to bring me and #3 I was tired of getting picked on. It was exactly the era in which the movie “The Karate Kid” was the rage of 80s Tweenagers. But forget the movie. I was interested in revenge. At minimum I just wanted to be able to stave off would be “jackers” in my community pestering me in the mornings during my walk to the bus stop. There were kids in the ‘hood who ran in cowardly packs. Two makes a pack by the way when you’re a skinny junior higher barely touchin’ 100 pounds with jewelry and wet clothes on.

I don’t remember my Kung Fu instructors’ names but I do remember one of the first things they ever told us. “Defending yourself is a last resort,” they said. It was synonymous with the portrayal of the biblical Jesus, not as a weakling but as a stalwart, purposeful arbiter of truth who knew when to scrap and when to lay down arms. Kung Fu added something else by way of a visual that I’d rather not dwell on. My instructor, I think “Griff” was what they called him, said, “I don’t care if someone says give me your wallet and all of your clothes. I’ll walk home naked before I’ll fight that guy.” Griff was in his late thirties and easily 250+ pounds. He was a black belt and then some. I was 11 years old and his statement was ludicrous. I thought to myself, “All I know is if some guy tried to take my stuff and I was a black belt, it’d be a bad day for that cat. Dude just walked into an —- whippin’.”

Strangely enough though, as the training ensued and I matured in the art over about a three-year period, I realized how precise and dangerous martial arts could be. I realized that an unwillingness to fight is not the same as cowardice but rather an indication of meekness, a concept new to me as a youngster. Bravado is the antidote of embarrassment, I thought prior to martial arts. But to the contrary, discretion trumps bravado and such discretion is based on the greater value of what stands to be won and lost.

The Veterans Building at Centinela Park where I learned Kung Fu was the beginning of wisdom as it pertains to being a defensive personality. Embarrassment and humiliation are so feared that we become John Daly, the golfer who recently posted a golf writer’s phone number on his Twitter page because he was fired up about a story that put him in an unfavorable light. Correction, John Daly was already the uncouth fringe PGA golfer whose tumultuous career has earned him a controversial tag. The truth is that we probably spend more time protecting our image than we do the marginalized and destitute of our world. Thank God for Kung Fu fighting.

FEARLESS IN QUEST OF YOU

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A man named Oswald Chambers once wrote that “it is impossible to weary God’s love…” Man’s on the other hand has a predetermined limit it would seem, even among family members and especially when something valuable stands to be won or lost. There is a competition that reverberates in Southern California. It’s in the gridlock, the race to checkout at Target and the pushing and shoving that occurs in times of economic crisis when seniority lists get scrutinized. The proverbial jungle out there is real but it’s manageable from the inside [you] out.

It’s amazing what we’ll do in a moment, in a surge and flury. People who claim to have faith, myself included, blame shift and lower personal convictions from time to time because we have not slowed down enough to deposit into our own cores. And I really don’t think there is a faithless solution nevertheless people swear up and down that it’s the marriage, the house, the job and the nebulous other which makes me edgy. We’re all wound up in the Golden state because…Because we’re aimless in our inward pursuits. What’s an inward pursuit? It’s as it sounds…a journey toward identity and introspection. It means deciding that your degrees, social networks and entertainment objectives don’t matter nearly as much as grasping a truth that will color how you live every one of the 86,400 seconds you get daily. At day’s end, it seems that everyone wants meaning but fears the quest involved with discovering it. I’ve been in countless conversations with people who say the money didn’t satisfy but we poor folk all say, “Hmm. I’d like to try the money though just to see.” I’m several years into my own personal quest for identity and despite its perilous paths, I can feel myself becoming fearless. Faith is all that remains as I stop the blaming, stop the scratching and clawing and fight the right fights. It’s the most exciting thing I’ve done since dunking a basketball the first time in 10th grade. (Well that’s not true but it was worth referencing.)

The Appeal of the Professional

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I’ve been told that some of the Brooklyn Dodgers lived in Brooklyn among that people who adored them, among the fans. Some also told me that even with product endorsements, players in the NBA used to earn far less than they do today. So when the older folks talk of Henry Aaron, Jerry West and Jim Brown I can’t help but wonder how the greater society viewed athletes in America pre-Magic, Bird and Jordan. I think I ask this question because of the billion dollar stage that arrests the attention of hundreds of thousands of people. But isn’t the only real difference between back in the day and today CP3 Tweets and Facebook Fan page status updates? No, I don’t even believe that.

When money scaffolds and redefines superstructure that is modern professional sports, the attractiveness of, say, an athlete becomes more than merely his or her seemingly ability. Granted, athletes have made more than the average working citizen for at least 40 years but I wonder if the advent of long-term, multi-million dollar contracts with bonuses and extensions have fed an embedded avarice residing in teens. In order of priority, what’s more important to up and coming athletes? If I asked a sampling of burgeoning athletes ages 13-18 to rank fame, fortune and the realization of a childhood dream (playing pro sports) I think fortune would be closely followed by fame. The third one would receive a cursory glance in distant third place.

I’d like to talk to some fans and former athletes old enough to contrast today’s perceptions of our favorite jocks with those of days gone by. And I have one purpose, to find out if the wide-eyed kids wanting to play just like so-and-so want to do so for the sake of mastering something. Did a young phenom in 1955 have eyes set on becoming a demagogue or did he have an unexplainable love for the sport and perhaps even for the good he could do from a venerated position in his community?

Money is in the way, perhaps permanently, but there must be some way to free our minds from the clutches of the tyranny of opportunism. If money makes the world go around it’s because we’ve allowed it to do so. Cars still mostly run on fossil fuel because there’s big money in it and the vehicles keep being manufactured to run on it. If we want athletes to possess a sense of mortality, a down-to-earthness that currently is found lacking, we’re in for the fight of our age. For the time being, cash rules everything around me…

Leaving the Obscure Life

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Could it be that none of us are sure of what are priorities are until those alleged loyalties are tested against attractive alternatives? We draw lines in the sand on an infinitesimal number of things from ideologies, to sports teams to choices of employment.

On the subject, a friend from the gym demonstrated his priority when he stayed at home to help his son with his homework instead of meeting me at the gym at a designated time recently. Can I say that the dude made my day when he told me why he was late? As soon as I got the chance, I “dapped” him up (shook his hand in that familiar way that homeboys do. It’s kind of a half hug half hand shake.). I told him he made the right choice staying home to help the little guy get down on his studies.

But prioritizing becomes a difficult science when opportunities play on your passions. You’re drawn to your interests; make no mistake about that. But interests are not always in line with purpose. Interests can lead you to hobbies or service, to philanthropy or hedonism and to failure or success. Let a group, an organization, a visionary spot your talent and acute loyalties and you’re a prime candidate for a conflict between real priorities and time wasters. Time wasters we can ill afford no matter our age but it’s the naivete that convinces us otherwise.

Like you, I’ve got choices to make this year about which activities deserve my time. They range from doctoral research to completing a bonafide curriculum that I can put in the hands of coaches for the betterment of their young men and women. This range is my clear priority but am I tempted to coach teams, lock down a steady gig that requires little to know exploration and/or live life totally exempted from responsibility to kids who grew up in places like South Los Angeles the way I did? Absolutely I am. But prioritization is an invitation as much for you as it is for me to focus life for the sake of availing oneself to what’s bigger. Passions help direct us but I’m learning that purpose and passion must be reconciled if we’re to make life about more than daily news and trends. Who’s down to ride with me and discover the priorities you were meant to have for the sake of what you were meant to do?

If Only He was a Dumb Jock

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If only he was a dumb jock his draft stock might be higher. If only he hadn’t left Florida State University to go study at Oxford maybe he’d be better prepared for the NFL Combine. If only he didn’t aspire to be a doctor by the time he’s 40 years old, then the scouts might take his love for football more seriously. If only Myron Rolle wasn’t himself, some say he’d have a better chance of being a professional football player.

At 23 years old, Myron Rolle is the guy you want your daughter to marry whether you like jocks or not. Whether you have hang-ups about her marrying an African-American or not, Myron Rolle is the guy. According to an ESPN special on Rolle, he could have entered the NFL draft in 2009 or come back to Florida State for his senior season but instead left for Oxford to get his Masters degree in medical anthropology as a Rhodes Scholar. He’s not even in the NFL yet but he’s founded the Myron Rolle  Foundation dedicated to “to the support of health, wellness, educational and other charitable initiatives throughout the world that benefit children and families in need.”

I’ve reiterated throughout my short stint as a blogger how I was ashamed of my intelligence growing up because the currency of athleticism spent more readily in my community. But what if more outstanding student athletes of color made themselves a bit more public? Would this affect the fallacious reasoning many impoverished kids have that you can only be either an academic or athlete but not both?

I was inspired that Myron Rolle isn’t afraid of the bearing his academic success could have on his professional football career. He’s committed to virtues and principles that transcend singular thinking and that’s what young people of all colors need. The teen I’ve had the privilege of seeing in the classroom in recent years feels limited and fears failure. They’re petrified of embarrassment and prone to assimilation so as not be exposed. But if these young people knew that you can live right now, start an organization right now, play your sport right now and impact the world, I know they’d do it. Study a Myron Rolle and you’ll see him credit his mentors both deceased and living. He’s made a lifestyle of learning and his desire to serve the less fortunate resonates so strongly that it propels him toward the stuff of dreams. He epitomizes the new jock.

The When and Why of Taking Control

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I met this guy at the gym who plays professional football in the Canadian Football League. He’s a defensive back, 24 years old and stronger than two average men his age. I can’t remember his name but when he comes to workout, he’ll usually find me and ask I’m playing ball today. Reluctantly I answer yes and it’s a slow yes because if this guy is guarding you, you’ll remember it for a few days. The first time I played against him it was that awkward scenario where a finesse guy like myself is pitted against a gladiator. Gladiators tend to win that first contest because brutality trumps savvy the first time at least.

Ah but since then the tables have begun to turn. In an unexplainable manner akin to how somehow the paper beats the rock in Rock-Paper-Scissors, I figured out how to beat the gladiator. You have to have motive and the ability to combine brawn with speed and skill. When my gridiron bound friend found me on the leg extension machine yesterday I assured him I’d be playing in about 20 minutes. Once on the floor I took control. I said to myself, “Self, you’re not faster than a guy who runs a 40-yard dash in 4.4 seconds but you are more deceptive. You’ve been playing basketball your whole life and this guy can’t guard you if he doesn’t know what you’re going to do from one second to the next.”  So the games ensued and while using unpredictability as a primary tactic to evading my hunter, I added conditioning. If I’m playing against a bigger, stronger opponent who typically plays American Football, let’s turn this game into a track meet. Basketball is like anything else that requires you to recognize when you have advantages. Never slug it out with a slugger if you’re not one. Competing to win often means creating mismatches of ability. If you can do this you can likely defeat the most unlikely of opponents.

But I neglected to address motive. Why am I motivated to destroy my opponent who is 10 years my junior? It’s not a pride thing so much as an opportunity to earn respect and make a young man better. The 24-year old wants to play in the NFL and failed to make the Minnesota Vikings roster. I don’t know much about football but when he was too tired to continue guarding me yesterday I said, “Let’s get this conditioning in man. You can’t stop running ’cause you’re tired. Let’s go.” I took control and became a coach momentarily because the time and opportunity presented themselves. Lesson learned.

Nightmares of being Peter Pan

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I wonder if one of my deepest fears has something to do with a vicarious involvement with basketball. Some good friends invited me to dinner since I was in the neighborhood last night and over some enchiladas my buddy asked what I was doing tonight. I told him I was going to play some basketball at 8 p.m. He said, “that’s why you should’ve been in the league [NBA]. You actually feel like playing basketball this late at night? I don’t even wanna pick up a basketball.” I retorted, “I’m just playing now because I didn’t get to play then.” My answer surprised me in it’s candor. But it was likely true since my buddy played Division I basketball and I did not. He worked out numerous times with NBA franchises before retiring from the sport whereas I had a less satisfying attempt at the pros.

I’m pretty comfortable with my answer, however, because it’s authentic if nothing more.  Nevertheless, I can’t help but ask what’s wrong with me? I play all the time and I don’t know if it’s because I sat the bench on some of the teams for which I played or if there’s a fool inside me thinking that a man my age could play in the NBA’s Development League. The last thing I want to be is the Peter Pan of basketball. Furthermore, if the fool resides within, does he think he could get called up to a 10-day contract so that he could say that he played at least ten games at the highest level of basketball? It is the stuff of embarrassing internal monologue. But it’s worth pondering for me.

Whenever I’m coaching and yelling at kids to give the workout their best effort, I wonder if I’m vested in seeing one of them excel on a level I could not. I’d like to believe that I am solely interested in developing the character and skill of my athletes. But growing up, it was as if there was a small window of time in which a young man could participate in sports, a.k.a. the great American leisure. If the chores are done, if there’s not something more important to do and if you’re not too old… Aren’t these the dependent clauses which predicate an involvement in basketball or any sport? I can’t shake feeling like I need to grow up. But I pay attention to how I approach basketball even now. I try to literally embody what I’m teaching young athletes. I’ll go to the gym to do “Kneehab” for my Patellar Tendonitis and run shooting drills for myself intent on making hundreds of jumpers. Then there’s the ball handling and other forms of repetition I do. I don’t just play basketball; I train with nothing for which to train and it doesn’t feel strange until I compare myself to other adults.

I develop the pillars of IDENTITY, RESOLVE, MOTIVE and similar characteristics in my clients. Surely I couldn’t be a fraud could I? Surely this isn’t a ruse through which I live out my fantasy of playing basketball for a living. I honestly don’t think that’s the case but I’m not on the outside looking in and I’d hope someone would intervene if they suspected I was pretending to develop others while secretly pipe dreaming. I guess this is where “Keeping it Real” goes right instead of wrong. Maybe I just play because it’s fun and I’m having the time of my life figuring out how to take a God-given interest and make it a mission. Lord help us to see what you see.