Children reared in the latter half of the twentieth century were taught all they had to do to succeed was to participate. Do that and there’d be a plastic trophy with their name on it waiting for them as they hit the locker room. Maybe not their full name – since the base of a trophy only has so much space. Initials then. Participation as a virtue has extended well beyond the white lines of a little league ballfield and into homes, offices, home offices, and yes, a geometric meeting ground I, and many others, like to call the public square.
Too bad it’s led a great many people dangerously astray. Why participate when you can just as easily abstain, refrain, and avoid ? Did Gladiator teach us nothing? It’s better to be in the crowd, surrounded by a sea of peanut shells and empty beer cans, than in the arena with psychopaths and circus animals. Teddy Roosevelt, despite his mustache, got it wrong. It’s not the man in the arena who counts. It’s the person watching from a safe distance, with a fleece blanket over their shivering thighs, holding a pair of high-powered binoculars, a transistor radio and all the latest betting lines. The credit, my friends, belongs to the person dispassionately involved in the competition. You may claim that I can’t understand victory without being on the field. That’s fine, but I will also never walk away as a loser. I can’t be defeated from the mezzanine – unless we’re talking about food poisoning, which we aren’t. The players are handsomely rewarded for their emotional distress. So yeah, I won’t know victory or defeat, but I’ll probably beat the traffic by ducking out in the 3rdquarter. That’s as much a win as any touchdown.
This was the beauty of color television. You could watch professional athletes freezing their nose hairs and chin whiskers off at Lambeau Field in subzero weather while you were safely mixing drinks in your temperature-controlled, wood-paneled and heavily carpeted den, admiring the tundral ambiance without so much as feeling a single solitary flake. You definitely didn’t have to be there to experience the highs and lows of the contest.
The world has a surplus of serial participators, obsessed with the notion of making a difference. The place to be is in a lawn chair on the side of the road watching as the world goes by. You won’t get sweaty, you won’t get noticed, but you won’t get hit by any cars either. And there are always concession to help you pass the time.
No comments:
Post a Comment