Sunday, February 03, 2008

A for Effort

This is a weird phrase, especially since E is not a grade, so if you gave a grade for effort, then it wouldn't match. I just finished watching the Super Bowl. I watched it by myself because it could have been dangerous. I've been riding both waves this year. I live in Boston, and when the sports teams do well, the attitude in the city is lighter and less stifling. This winter has been the best winter in my 3 years here. The sun has shown. It has been cold, but there are random days of warmth. In the weather and in the people.

The Red Sox won. I do not care about baseball. The Patriots go undefeated. There was a reason to be optimistic and have some hope. A perfect season was possible. The Celtics are doing great. I looked at it like if each team won the sport, we could have a year round relaxation. This could take me into the summer, and then summer is pretty decent. So there was a motive to my support, I admit it.

On the other hand, there is a little bit of arrogance associated with this pursuit of perfection. It sounds noble, but it is passive. The language gives it away. " We have a problem. There is a conflict with the Democratic Primary and the Super Bowl Parade on Super Tuesday." Are you kidding me? I did not really care who won, but I was a Giants fan as a child. I actually like the underdog. I'm not a hater, but I resonate with the underdog because I've been the underdog. I wasn't cheering for anybody. I actually slept through the game in my pajamas until the last 5 minutes. (This goes with my theory that no matter what happens the first three quarters, what you do in the last quarter is what matters. Fix it or maintain it. If it is a blowout, then I feel like I wasted three quarters waiting for them to do something in the last.) And that was when I saw the underdog say, "Screw it. I have nothing to lose but what you already told me I lost. I probably should have it in my possession before I just give it back to you." And then he didn't get hit, and he caught the ball on his head, and he caught a touchdown pass. Then they held it. Now...."The Stunning defeat..." "The shocking..." blah blah the language is still there.

I'm sorry that the favorite tastes bitter defeat. It's going to be a long week. What I didn't like (and my dad is right) was the display of unsportsmanlike conduct at the end by the perfect leader. I understand the emotion involved in disappointment, but it solidified my suspicion of passive arrogance. My brother said it best in his happiness, "It doesn't even matter that they had a perfect season now. There is no A for effort. They might as well have lost five games. They shouldn't even feel bad." He's kind of harsh, but he has been under the wrath of unrelenting Pats fans for months, and he played football himself.

I do take something away from this...The implication that the only way to be a winner is to be perfect has been lingering throughout the whole season. Fewer people had faith in the nonperfect team. Even though they won, they still deal with that language. Vindication is not instantaneous, but after you do it, you know it whether people admit it or not. If the underdog has heart, passion, and skill, I will always be his or her cheerleader. The favorite doesn't need any cheerleaders. My brother is kind of wrong. A for effort. No, championship.

The best part of this is that it teaches that you don't have to be perfect to be a champion at the end. So I have a chance, and you do too. (Now you can stop holding your breath in those pivotal moments, and breathe. You will need that oxygen to think and use those muscles in the competition. There is something always on the line.)

Friday, February 01, 2008

Thanks to Something Within, I find out that someone who disagrees with Maya Angelou's choice called her a 'ho.' In response to that, the good Rev. Dr. Weems has asked of us young women (This is a good day/reason not to be in your 20s.) what boundaries we have established. Check our her entry "Baby Girl, Where's Your Line in the Sand?" (Link at right of page.)

I don't have time to get into how much 79 years of living warrants bowing at your feet... yet. So this was my response to Dr. Weems' question. I'll be back, but I need to be on time for work.

Just when we earned a little time at the grown women’s table (thank you for the risk in letting us speak), somebody disrespected NaNa Griotess…now some that got to the table recognize that we might have to help others reach it by bringing a booster seat so they can just LISTEN. The truth of the matter is, there are many young women who draw lines, yet they leave the line and get distracted or they draw it in pencil so they can erase it or move it when somebody asks “Who drew it?” What one might forget is that Maya Angelou actually knows Hillary Clinton better than most of us know Barack Obama. At 79, She DREW a line. At 29, I know that creative discourse reflects the highest intellect and honor. Let us not forget that while we tear each other up, the men are fantasizing that there is mud involved, and working it out for each other. (Did I hear correctly that Genarlow Wilson is going to MOREHOUSE? Maybe not, but I get mad on a daily basis. Grrr…) To my young sisters out there, Maya drew a line. Dr. Weems wants to see the line we draw. Pick a good place. Then…USE A PEN!

I just realized that it could be understood that I am hating on Genarlow Wilson’s opportunity. I am not. I am concerned about what college this girl, who should be graduating, is going to and if anybody is hooking her up. She might not have been Black, but she was having sex at 15. Somebody should sign a dotted line for her.