Triangle

Yesterday, gulped down a pint of Shakespeare Stout at the bar in Aubrey's (thanks goes out to Lana, who looks like Lea Thompson from "Back To The Future"), joined me wife at the table and then spent the afternoon chatting with my wife, cousin and cousin's granddaughter* while eating lunch. During the conversation, we watched the Talledega NASCAR race and the Colts NFL win. Our server, Amy, filled our tea glasses - great dimply smile and blue eyes!

*My first cousin, second removed, showed me mobile phone pics of her fellow 12-year old friend's deer kills - a 10-pointer and a 7-point buck. She talked about being a member of the bass fishing club in seventh grade and her preparation for the SAT test because of her invitation from the Duke Talent Identification Program to take either the SAT or ACT early. She recited pi to 30 decimal places, despite her blonde hair.

Drove home with wife beside me, listening to Patricia Cornwell's "Book of the Dead" on audio CD. Ate dinner at Shoney's in the shadow of the Tennessee-Alabama fireworks megasign. Tammy, the server, very efficient. Talked with the manager afterward about the types of messes that customers leave in the bathroom - makes me question what's the definition of adult behaviour.

Someone asked me about my last blog entry and the types of behaviour I exhibit at ballgames. In other words, what's the definition of an angry fan?

Good question. An angry fan feels the hurt from the last loss, ready to gear up excitement and cheer for the team. An angry fan is a person who gets frustrated about bonehead plays. An angry fan is different than a rabid fanatic, who foams at the mouth and screams like a dying banshee, wanting to go down on the field and show the players what the burning desire to win means. An angry fan asks what the coaches were thinking calling a play that seemed so obvious to the other team and went nowhere. An angry fan high-fives all those in the vicinity when a play goes the way you want to see a play go - interception, fumble recovery, first down, long pass/run, touchdown and the elusive, nonblocked field goal. Most importantly, an angry fan remembers to kiss his spouse after every score by the favorite team - in that case, the angry fan becomes the happy enthusiast, despite clothes soaked by a steady, cold rain in the dark.

Like the guy beside me, another angry fan, said, you don't have to worry about making field goals if the team scores touchdowns. You can keep your frustration to a minimum if you're outscoring your opponents that way.

Anger on the field of play is easy because your opponent is standing in front of you wearing a uniform that is easy to distinguish from yours. You outcompete your opponent in every moment. In the stands, anger is usually directed at the field but when a nearby fan wears the opponent's colours, you lightheartedly outcompete the fan in shouting for your team. Some people get the humour in shouting funny comebacks. Some don't. Thank goodness, the kids below us and above us had fun in such a shouting contest Saturday night. They're regular angry fans, not drunk or belligerent like some we've encountered at opponents' venues I won't name here. An angry fan is not a hooligan. It's all right to be a hooligan with your pals but leave alone the fighting and weapons (sticks, cups, stadium seats) when having a go at others in the arena. The fight's on the field, not in the stands.

I'm an old fellow now but when I was young, back in the early 1980s, I hung out with some real punks. Shaved heads. I wore a big can opener as an earring. Skateboard to a dark alley - we carried brass knuckles, socks full of lead and rocks - have a fist fight, no guns or knives allowed (knives and guns were for sissies who didn't have the courage or charisma (machismo - nix the alliteration!) to face a mano e mano fight between two unpadded bodies). None of us were much into the university sports fan scene at the time, although we fought within blocks of the university's stadium. We were our own fight club (long before fight clubs were cool, maybe somewhere between Rumble Fish and Boys and the Hood), based loosely around rival punk rock bands. Groupies were the cheerleaders/fans. Shoving and punching each other.

In those days, my smiling face was disconcerting to my opponents. Why did I smile when they were grimacing? Why did I laugh when they landed a good punch? Why? Because I had played organized football as a younger kid and had taken hits a lot harder on the football field. I had run at my football opponents from 50 yards away and rammed into them at full speed. A fist fight in the alley was like powder puff football to me.

I'm not condoning my behaviour one way or the other, alleyway hooligan or hollering stadium fan. I'm just stating facts, describing what it was like to be an example of someone like me, at peace with the world because I'm alive every moment to enjoy whatever happens, happy, sad, good, bad, up, down, turned around.

In this economic downturn, when many people are unemployed and looking for workable solutions, anger can get out of hand. Perspective is difficult to change. I begin and end my moments feeling what it is like to be alive in the moment, happy to be aware of myself being aware in the moment, regardless of emotional state. I change as I get older, tolerating incompetence less and less, time becoming a longer measuring stick but also more precious as my time on Earth winds down (14795 days, plus or minus).

Yesterday, I enjoyed spending time with extended family, knowing that every one of us is important, no matter our age or station in life. Every person has a lesson to teach us and every moment is an opportunity to learn. One day, I hope to completely understand the idea that if to me, I feel I'm not important because everyone around me is more important than me, then everyone else feels the same way; therefore, we are more important than we can possibly know and should never take advantage of the key links of you/me/us that form the triangle of life.

Ever seen an ant bridge, bodies of ants holding each other up over a crevice so the rest of the ants can cross over and forage for the colony? Inherent trust in the strength of the whole. You may have that trust already. I have a mix of that trust and a bit of skepticism thrown in for double-checking purposes. It's not that I don't trust you. It's just that I don't know the person who trusts the person who trusts the person that you trust. We may have motivations at cross-purposes. Recently, right now, in the near future, I'm figuring out if I should just go with the trust and not worry about cross-purposes. From another galaxy, a few cross-purposes within one species seem irrelevant. Time will tell the teller.