Adapt or cry

When you threw something at Bobby Moore, more often than not, he caught it. For a few years, he was one of the best. But the life of a professional wide receiver isn’t always champagne and Rose’s lime juice. Some people actually believe that there’s such a thing as having too much citrus. They use words like “citrusy” and purse their lips as if to say “no, not for me.” Imagine.  

Moore wasn’t destined to catch passes his whole life. Nor was he meant to stay on the gridiron breaking down pigskin plays and make additional inexplicably pork-related references. He belonged on the court. By the mid 90s, he was the most famous sideline reporter on the planet. You may know him by his other name. Ahmad Rashad. How did he do it? 

By adapting. 

If you can’t adapt to the world around you, your chances of success are slim. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. When the asteroid was barreling towards the Yucatan, not every dinosaur froze like a tick-infested deer lost on the Taconic Parkway. Some went underground for a while, returning as storks, herons and irritating little chickadees, who somehow, grow on you after a while. I might be skipping a few steps – I’m no scientist. But if dinosaurs are related to birds and the former are no longer here, how else should I explain the overpopulation of the latter?  

I didn’t make the rules, yet I follow them with rare verve and enthusiasm. A few months back I was putting the finishing touches on a new book. It was, as some early blurbs said, a genuine call to action. Shake It Up: How contractual obligations created a culture of litigious maniacs and why we ought to return to a society of exclusively handshake deals. I’ll admit that the subtitle was a little long and we had a difficult time fitting it on the front cover. However, I wanted anyone who saw it to understand the message without needing to read the whole thing. In early March I was all done, with only the acknowledgments unwritten. My plan was to thank each of my digits equally – the 10 friends that make up my 2 hands. 

For an array of wildly obvious reasons, that’s not going to happen now. But I’m currently hard at work revising the text for an alternate thesis. A little space, please? Imagining a world without hugs, handshakes, high fives and the case against human contact.  What can I say? I adapted. I had to. And yes, I’m partial to extremely long subtitles.