Pride Comes Before the Sprained Ankle

…which then leads to the fall.

Events occurred on the night of Monday 9-12-2011

Days after the events in my last post happened, I sprained my ankle pretty bad well playing ball.  I remember having been happy about how strong my ankles were feeling, a sensation I haven’t grown too accustomed to since having sprained my ankle awhile back.  I felt as if these types of problems were behind me.  That was before today.  That was before this:

I was playing a few games and didn’t feel great.  Something was off throughout all the games.  I felt a step slower and as if my reaction timing was off.  I should have rested this day.  After my knees and ankles had already begun to bark pretty loud, I figured one more game would be enough for the day.  During that last game, I jumped up and when I stopped coming down, my ankle didn’t.  It twisted and had the same terrible crunch I remember hearing/feeling that night a few years ago after the symphony, a horrible, grinding and scrunching of organic cogs in the machine of my ankle. 

Right after falling, and releasing a barbaric howl which echoed throughout campus, everyone on the court clustered around and two stepped forward to bring me over to a bench with the purpose of having me prop up my injury.  After getting ice, one of my helpers got the front desk staff to check me out, who then got H.E.R.U. (Hopkins Emergency Response Unit, pronounced “hero”), who then had security drive me home. 

I lay this out in such detail to highlight the helpfulness of my fellow players and the amazing service Hopkins showed me.  These fellas I haven’t known for so long helped me out and some even came over to sit with me and pass the time.  That was bomb.  Of course, I did get injured on their property and they were probably libel for injuries sustained in their facility, Hopkins took care of me.  All those different checks, then dropping me off at home…win!

Speaking of which, I watched my team finish the game.  They lost.  After having my ankle get thrashed by circumstances (losing), I watched my team get beat (losing x2).  Uggh

Here is picture from the day of this posting:

On Confidence and Whether or not to Ice my Entire Body

Date written: 9-10-2011

Recently, I have been playing a good amount of basketball at the JHU gym.  B-ball has been a fun alternative to first working out and second doing nothing physical.  I haven’t played ball in a while (other than with those neighborhood boys) so I started pretty rusty.  I took some extra time to work on my shot and it is on its way back to where it should be (I'm ready, Obama, think you got skillz?  Come at me, bro).  With all the full court games I have been playing, I have definitely been feeling my strength return in a really fun way.  Takes me back to Santa Monica Beach, specifically the Original Muscle Beach area.



I got out there as much as I could; clear, blue skies, fit people having fun, sand, great places to eat, what is not to like?  I met a woman there who was messing around on the rope at the right side of the above photo.  She was pretty skillful and, when I asked her, she told me she learned everything just from having asked people.  Cool.  Then when I asked her if she was an athlete, she pointed to a patch on her bag which read, “I don’t practice, I play.”  I really like that line and want to keep it fresh in my life.

Back to b-ball in B-more.  One of the most prevalent aspects of the court culture I have noticed is a lack of confidence.  Generally, many of the students/players on the court do not have the confidence to try to take a shot, drive towards the basket (through the dangerous defense), or be calm enough to play comfortably.  Don’t get me wrong, there are many good players who have the walk and the talk, but there are many more members in the first group.  Granted, probably  a third of the players are freshman, but that group should also represent high school b-ball players.  This shows me how much social development comes in and just after college.

A guy standing on the sidelines who I got to let me join his five who were on deck to play told me something which jarred me and was the last encouragement I needed to write this post.  He said, “yeah, you can definitely play with us.  But what about those other guys, aren’t they your friends.”  “No, I just met them,” I replied.  I had just met guys on the other court and began shooting and messing around with them to such an extent, onlookers thought I had known them coming in.  Mindblow. 

I have increasingly surrounded myself with more and more hard working and successful people.  I have been inspired to reach towards the level they are on and to validate myself for even being in the same room as them.  However, there have been a few times that I have been around peers or others in public and have shocked myself with how far I have come.  As Nelson Mandela said in his book The Long Walk to Freedom,

“I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can only rest for a moment, for with freedom comes responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not ended.”

 I realize I have a long way to go in terms of personal, social, and professional development to get me to where I want to be, but I have already climbed mountains in each category.  With all of this playing though, I am pretty sore.  I am now going to find out how much of my body I can immerse in ice.

The West Wing and Surpassing our Limits

A few months ago I started watching The West Wing, feeling that I was finally mature enough to understand, follow, make sense of, and value the show. It has been an amazing experience having such an insightful glimpse, fictional though it may be, into the American political landscape. Although so much of it is not true, many times it touches me very close, much closer than I believed a television show could touch my mind, my spirit, and my emotions.

I took a break from watching the show for a few weeks until tonight when I watched the first two episodes of season four, “Hours in America Part 1” and “Hours in America Part 2.” These episodes remind me of why I watched this show so avidly. I have drawn a few important ideas from these episodes which I believe are valuable enough to write about and share. The first idea stands on its own whereas the other two are connected.

Separated from their motorcade, to senior White House staffers accompanied by an assistant had to make their own way back to Washington D.C. from rural Indian. Along the way, the two staffers engaged many people in short discussions about the campaign. Each person or group appeared intelligent and slighted and responded, “I didn’t vote for him the first time, I won’t vote for him the second.” Finally, the secretary called the staffers out telling them they had always had their own agenda and failed to see the plight of those they were passing.

The two staffers are very intelligent characters and were fully engaged in their job, even though they were on the road and were unable to be in the White House. These intelligent people outside of their element clung to their element, instead of realizing the opportunity they had to have meaningful conversations. How often do we allow our intelligence to distance us from our current situation? How often do I? How often do we ignore others motivations and experiences in lieu of our own? Greater intelligence gives those who wield it greater ability to understand those who do not, not to lord a supreme, separate life from others. What meeting grounds can we create? How can gaps be bridged?

After the secretary lays that on the two gentleman, they met a man who has taken his daughter to visit Notre Dame, a university she may attend. He had a few remarkable sentiments. In one he held that, although other fathers have to force their children to practice the piano, he has to drag his away from it…he just needs teachers. This is in a school with no AP or art classes and 37 student classrooms. What will I be able to do for my students if I am in such a school? And how will I teach them if their parents never find them with book in hand, let alone have to drag them away from books?

Finally, there was a (fictional) tragedy in the episode in which there was a bombing of a sports event; 44 people were killed and 100+ were injured. Proceeding the tragedy, President Bartlet (Martin Sheen) gave a speech which really affected me. I will quote some choice lines from his speech:

“After the explosion some swimmers ran into the fire to help save some injured victims (pause) ran INTO the fire. The streets of heaven are too crowded with angels tonight… Every time we think we have reached our capacity to meet a challenge, we look up and are reminded that that capacity may yet be limitless. This is a time for American Heroes; we will do what is hard, we will achieve what is great.”

So much present in so few lines. Running into fire with only a passing hope at surviving, only aspiring to help; nobility still exists in these people. I am not a religious man, but the next line still is an meaningful to an atheistic ear. Too many good people are dead. They have been rewarded. They will be remembered. But they are no longer with us. No matter where some person or group or society places the epitome of success or perseverance or depth of character, this supposed threshold will be surpassed. Who will be the ones to pass it? Us. Our incomparable success will not come easy, but that will make it all the more great.

I have worked with and observed many teachers, both mediocre and amazing. Although it still seems surreal that I will be colleagues with such remarkable individuals, it is the right time. Surrounded by too much apathy and neglect it is time to see what I can do and challenge myself to reach for an inner capacity that, who knows, may yet be limitless.