Some stories are haunting, in the very best sense of the word, and that is how I feel about this story by Michael Rowe. It gets at the very essence of all we talk about at The Good Men Project – men and manhood, identity, sexuality, fathers and family, violence, and that eerie place where the past and present collide. It’s all very grounded, very real, yet I’ve read this several times, and each time it gives me goosebumps – not a little wimpy, prickly back of the spine tingle, but a full body sensation that is hard to shake off. –– Lisa Hickey, publisher, The Good Men Project

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I saw you standing just inside the wrought-iron fence around the graveyard at the corner of Winchester and Sumach this evening when I was out with the dogs, right around sundown.

I waved, but you didn’t wave back.

Two 14-year-old boys went right by you on skateboards through a cloud of dead autumn leaves. I didn’t see their faces under their helmets and untidy dark hair as they flew past through the lengthening shadows.

Remember in the 70s when we were kids and no one ever wore a helmet for anything? We used to make retard jokes about kids whose parents made them wear helmets, even for skating. Isn’t it odd how something that sounds so cruel today seemed so funny back then? I never wore a helmet for hockey. You never played hockey.

Remember that time I teased you about how you should be wearing white skates with black heels and done figure skating with the girls? Dad always told me to shut up when I teased you. Once he even slapped the back of my head, hard. I pretended that it didn’t hurt, but it did. I hated you when he did that.

But he was right. It was a mean thing to say. You couldn’t help the way you were, but I could probably have helped being an asshole about it.

You didn’t even look at the boys on the skateboard. I figured they reminded you of the guys we grew up with in Auburn—guys like I was: guys who played hockey, who chased girls, who weren’t afraid to get into fights.

I wonder if they even saw you? I wonder if they might have felt a sudden cold as they thundered past the cemetery. What would they have seen if they’d looked up?

But still, I wish you’d waved.

♦◊♦

This week, I drove west on the 401 to Auburn, like I always do at the end of October, to see Dad. We don’t talk much anymore, but he likes it when I check in. Since Mom died, he doesn’t do a lot around the house. There’s a widow lady from church, Mrs. Normoyle, who has a thing for him. She’s always bringing him food and tidying up. He tells me she’s annoying, but I think he’s a lot happier she’s there than he likes to let on. It’s lonely up in that big house on the Milton Escarpment with nothing but memories, especially in October.

It’s the month of ghosts, especially family ghosts.

The rooms seem darker now that Mom is gone. Maybe Dad turns the lights on less, or maybe he keeps the blinds drawn more than he used to. Dad always says Mom took the light with her after when she died, after 40 years. Even though he didn’t mean it literally, the other day I remembered that another word for ghost is “shade,” which made me smile. It also made me switch on a couple of lamps in the living room next to Dad’s chair.

In the lamplight, pictures everywhere. On the walls. On the tables.

Mom and Dad’s wedding. Mom holding me in her arms when they brought me home from the hospital. Me, at 5, reaching up to touch you when they brought you home from the hospital. Birthdays. Disneyland. Hockey pictures—me, not you. You, at your modern dance class recital. You, gently holding Maven when she was a puppy. Maven licks your face with her pink tongue. The colours have faded, but Maven still looks like a small bundle of soft black mink. Your smile is beautiful in that picture. You’re cradling her in your arms like she was your baby.

“I know,” Dad says. I didn’t hear him come up behind me. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Never a day goes by. A handsome boy.” His voice sounds unbearably old all of a sudden. “It was easier when your mother was alive. It’s against nature. It should have been she and I. You two boys should have outlived us both.”

“I’m still here, Dad.”

“I know,” he says. “I know you are. I wish you had . . .” His voice trails off. The bitterness has mellowed over the years like old brass. It’s still there, but it gleams dully.

“Dad, stop it. Not now. It’s not fair. Not after all this time.”

“I’m sorry, Robert. I didn’t mean it that way.”

When I look at him, there are tears in his eyes. Old-man tears. I touch his shoulder. I want to hug him, but I know he’d rather not have the human contact right now. So I squeeze his shoulder, the way real men do. Fucking real men. Jesus.

“Yes, you did, Dad,” I whisper. “You did mean it that way. But it’s OK. I agree with you. I wish I’d been there that night with Scotty too.”

♦◊♦

Brothers. Loaded term. Born of the same parents, raised in the same house. One normal, one—well, different. We knew you were different, but we never talked about it as such. Mom called you “sensitive.”  When you were little, you’d follow me around everywhere. You drove me crazy with your love. Later, you embarrassed me with your mincing and prancing. My friends laughed at you. I joined in their laughter. My girlfriend, the incredibly hot born-again Christian to whom I lost my virginity, asked me if you were an actual fag, or if you just acted like one.

Dad was angry with me when you came home with your latest black eye.

“Why can’t you look after him? He’s your brother. He’s the only brother you’ll ever have. You’re stronger than him. You need to protect him.”

I said I’d rather have no brother at all than an embarrassing queer one.

Dad slapped me across the face. “Be a man, Robert. It’s time for you to grow up and act like a man.”

I told him that I hated him, and I hated you more. I stormed out of the living room. When I saw you crying in the doorway to the kitchen, I passed you without a word. You held out your hand. You touched my elbow as I went by.

“Robbie, I’m sorry. I—”

“Fuck you, Scott. I hate you. I wish you were dead.”

Three years later, when I was home from university, you told us you were moving to Alberta with some guy you were “in love with.” Mom cried. Dad went to his workshop and locked the door. I told Mom and Dad that I was done pretending.

I drove back to school. In my dorm, I threw the only framed family photo across the room. It shattered against the wall, spraying shards of broken glass across the floor.

Dad called me from the hospital in Calgary. My girlfriend woke me up and passed me the phone. It was 3:00 a.m. At first, I didn’t recognize his voice at all. It was the voice of a man nailed to a cross.

“Your brother’s been hurt,” he said.  “We’re in Calgary. Mum and I. Can you come right away? We’re at the hospital.”

“Dad? What happened to Scott?”

“They hurt him,” he said. “They beat him up. He’s in intensive care.”

“Who?” I asked stupidly. “Who hurt him?”

“Who else? The same ones that always hurt him.” Dad was crying now. “Damn them.” He was silent for a few moments, trying to compose himself. “Your brother needs his family with him now. You have to come.”

“Dad—”

“You come now, Robert. I mean it. It’s time for you to be his brother again. It’s past time.”

Then he told me what they’d done to you in that alleyway outside the bar.

♦◊♦

Three hours later on the plane to Calgary, I dreamed horrible, unformed, crimson-tinted dreams. I heard the terrible crunch of bones cracking beneath the weight of fists and boots. I saw the puddles of congealing blood. I must have cried out because the flight attendant asked me if I was all right. I told her I was. She handed me a napkin. I reached for it, suddenly embarrassed to have allowed this woman see me cry, even in my sleep.

I landed in Calgary on the bluest October morning.  The houses across the street from the hospital had carved pumpkins by the front door. Of course, I thought. It’s Halloween morning.

“We did everything we could,” the doctor had said, holding a clipboard under the fluorescent light. “I’m so sorry.”

Perhaps his clinical choice of words had been intended to be anesthetic—blunt force trauma, massive head injuries, persistent vegetative.

As the machine measured out your remaining heartbeats in flattening spikes of green light, I touched your broken fingers and promised myself—and you—that I would be strong for Mom and Dad.

When it was over, we stepped out of the hospital into the sunlight. Across the street from the hospital, two little boys displaying the effortless familiarity of brothers raced along the sidewalk to school, laughing. One was draped in a bed sheet, a ghost. His brother wore a pirate costume. The older of the two, the pirate, reached out and took his younger brother’s hand, pulling him joyously along the sidewalk towards school.

It had taken me exactly 17 minutes to break my promise not to cry.

♦◊♦

These days, I can quantify my remaining decades. I can measure them out in life-events. I can gauge my value as a man by who I’ve loved, who has loved me, and by the ones I didn’t love nearly enough. My marriage didn’t last, of course. No one was surprised.

But our son, Scott—named after you—is the one thing we did right. He’s away at Western this fall. He’s your age. The age you were when . . . well, when whatever.

I believe in ghosts. And I see you everywhere.

The first time was just before I turned on the soft nursery light, the night we brought Scott home. You were standing over his crib, a familiar shape in the dimness.

Scotty, I whispered. Then I turned on the light.

The room was empty except for my sleeping son. I felt no fear, just the gentle spectral aspect of something peaceful and benevolent.

But you were there. I know what I saw.

♦◊♦

I’ve seen you many other times over the years, sometimes more clearly than others. I’ve seen you in my son’s handsome sensitive face as he’s grown. I’ve felt your spirit in his sweetness, his trusting nature. I’ve heard your voice beneath his.

I feel your spirit moving in me when I react with patience and kindness to the fact that he’s not like me, and in fact couldn’t be more like you in many, many ways.

And in loving that in him, in knowing that he might someday tell Susan and I what you told Mom and Dad that terrible afternoon 30 years ago, I’m granted some sort of absolution, a redemption I don’t deserve, in knowing I’ll know how to love him at the moment he’ll need my love the most.

In my dreams I see you rising out of that bloody alleyway on a fountain of radiance like some sort of immortal angel full of fire, full of power, full of light.

But other times, like tonight, by the graveyard in late October when the daylight is short and the night chill settles in early, I see you very, very clearly.

I wave. And I wish you’d wave back. Just once.

—photo Flickr/AdamSelwood

The post Ghosts appeared first on The Good Men Project.

Figure skating is at once artistic, athletic and breathtaking. Here’s a glimpse into the science that makes it so entertaining.

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By Deborah King, Ithaca College

Figure skating is always the highlight of the Winter Olympics. With the introduction of a team competition this year, there are five figure skating events. And we’ve already seen much drama with records broken and the retirement of veteran showman Evgeni Plushenko. He pulled out after badly landing a triple Axel – one of the sport’s signature jumps.

Spectators often take the grace and beauty of figure skating for granted. But many don’t realise the speed, power and strength needed to complete the jumps and spins. Gliding across the ice and then springing into the air to rotate three or four times before landing lightly on a single tiny blade and gliding off again is an exact science. There are many types of jumps and each jump may be done in combination with another, but two fan favourites are the Axel and Lutz.

The Axel

This is my favourite jump. The Axel is the only jump where the skater faces forward as they take off the ice. They start by gliding backward, but then step forward and jump into the air, driving forward and upward with their arms and leg. It is a powerful jump where athletes gain great heights.

Because they are facing forward at take-off, the skaters have an extra half revolution to do before they land (all figure skating jumps land backward). So a triple Axel is really three and a half revolutions in the air. To turn so many times it is critical that skaters pull their arms and legs into a tight pencil like position. Crossing their ankles, pressing their legs tightly together and holding their elbows and hands tight against their chest, this minimises the resistance they create with the air.

The tighter a skater is, the faster they can rotate. If an arm or foot is sticking out, the mass of the arm or foot is too far from their axis of rotation and slows down the spin. Easy in principle, in reality they have to fight to keep their arms and legs in tight. Skaters must use their muscles to create centripetal force, which pulls objects towards the axis of rotation, keeping them on a circular path. If they relax, their arms and feet will want to keep moving straight and will get flung outward.

Men tend to perform triple Axels, women normally doubles. But look out for a triple Axel from Japan’s Mao Asada. She was the first woman to land a triple Axel in competition and plans to nail it again this year in pursuit of gold in the women’s free program.

The Lutz

Mao Asada mid-Lutz. Shizuo Kambayashi/AP

You will see triple and quadruple Lutzes. A feature of the Lutz that makes it challenging from a scientific standpoint is the entry. Skaters must do a long backward glide on the outside edge of one foot as they approach the jump, causing them to arc clockwise if they are on their left foot and anticlockwise if they are on their right. Then, they reach back with the other foot, tap the toe-pick into the ice and vault off it, turning in the opposite direction to the arc in the air.

This initial “counter rotation” helps skaters gain angular momentum for the jump. This is the rotational momentum of the skater about their axis of rotation – the imaginary line that runs up and down the centre of the body, which skaters spin around while in the air. Skaters get angular momentum from a twisting push off the ice as they rotate their body and arms when they jump.

In a Lutz, the counter rotation can increase the range of motion the skater turns through helping create more angular momentum for the jump. While this sounds advantageous, there is the added difficulty of staying on the outside edge as they start the counterclockwise rotation. A common problem is a “flutz”. If the skater falls or rolls onto the inside edge, it is not a true Lutz and points will be deducted.

As you watch the games, listen to the announcers and see if you can identify the Axel and Lutz. Look for the arm and leg drive in forward take-off Axel that helps create power and jump height. Look for the long backward glide of the Lutz and the skater using the arms and rotation of the body to create angular momentum and rotation speed while staying on the outside edge leaning away from the rotation of the jump.

Deborah King has received funding from United State Figure Skating and the United States Olympic Committee.

–This article was originally published on The Conversation.
–Read the original article.
–Photo: AP

The post Lutz or Flutz? The Tricky Physics of Figure Skating appeared first on The Good Men Project.

Adam Dyer in Squaw Valley demonstrating an off ice spiral…silly boy!

Adam Dyer knows full well what it’s like to be a black guy obsessed with figure skating.

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This post is a response to a recent article that appeared in the Washington Post

Dear Robert Samuels of the Washington Post,

Although I appreciate the observations in your recent article “I’m black.  I’m a guy. And I’m obsessed with figure skating” – Washington Post Online, January 30, and I also appreciate how challenging it is to be a man of color working for the Post, your perspective as a black man loving figure skating is neither newsworthy nor unique. You are definitely not the first black man to be a fan of figure skating.  In fact, in addition to other black men being fans, there have been and continue to be black men and women actually in the sport. But I have to also realize that you, along with many others may not be aware of the depth and breadth of the history of blacks in figure skating in America. So, with all good intentions, here are a few of my own observations as a fan for over 45 years.

Today, in Culver City Californa, an era comes to an end. On February 2, 2014, Culver City Ice Arena will close. Along with it, the dreams of many a child who usually wouldn’t have access to even knowing about skating of any kind.  I discovered Culver City Ice when I moved to Los Angeles in 2000. I had started skating (as an adult) while living in Toronto in 1996 and had managed to keep up the sport.  My first impression of Culver City Ice was that it was run down (the ice had a distinct dip toward one end.) But there was a charm that is summed up by the “Sweetheart of the Ice” sculpture that adorns the roof and by the warmth of the instructors, some who had been teaching there since its opening in 1962.  The other thing that spoke to me were how many kids of color were on the ice.  It was the first time in all of my years of following figure skating that I had seen that many kids of color on the ice. One of the first people I met was Catherine Machado, US National Bronze medalist (1955, 1956) as well as the first Latina national champion (Junior, 1954.)  She was funny and wry and so unassuming, I didn’t realize her history.  I remember her telling me that one reason she loved this rink was that, although she loved all her students, Culver City attracted the kids who looked and sounded like her and it was important for them to see a role model. But I digress…

Culver City Ice was not only where I first landed an axel jump (thank you Gary Visconti) but where I met Atoy Wilson, the first African American National Champion (Novice, 1966) and the first African American to skate in the National Championships (1965) and former star of Ice Follies, Holiday on Ice and numerous appearances on television.  He introduced me to a world of black figure skaters who to this day continue to be sidelined by a sport that is plagued by both racism and economic elitism. Through him, I learned about and was fortunate to meet incredible athletes: Franklyn Singley, Sheliah Crisp, Derrick Delmore, Aaron Parchem, Andrea Gardiner, Rohene Ward, just to name a few…not to mention legendary figures like Debi Thomas, Richard Ewell and  Tai Babilonia. These skaters, represent some of the most phenomenal talent to ever land on the ice.  At a 2002 gala in Cleveland, I saw them perform spins and jumps that don’t even have names in the mainstream sport; I witnessed a level of athleticism and artistry with these skaters that puts anything that most of our national competitors do to a sorry shame; and I encountered a passion for the sport that transcended the cultural barriers that were routinely put in their way by “the establishment.”

The most important introduction, however, that came to me from Culver City Ice Arena was my introduction to Mabel Fairbanks. Fairbanks was a black skater and coach who came up in a time when it was impossible to be a black woman and be a skater, let alone a black woman from Jacksonville, Florida. Arriving in New York City in the 1930’s, she saw figure skating, most notably the movie “One In a Million” with Sonja Henie, and was hooked.  Although she was most likely in her early 20’s when she started, she found a way to teach herself and wangle lessons with then US Champion Maribel Vinson Owen and eventually create small ice shows around herself in Harlem using all local children as talent.  After some important publicity in New York, the prospect of a movie career called her to Hollywood, but due to racism and questionable management, it was not to be so.  But this didn’t stop Mabel.  She began performing a “tank show” (small patch of portable ice), created an international tour with skaters of color and most importantly started coaching.  She worked with the children of many celebrities through the 1950’s and eventually went on to coach Atoy Wilson who I mentioned above.  She was the reason he broke the color barriers at both the Los Angeles Figure Skating Club and US Figure Skating Nationals.  It was around this same time that she looked at a little white boy and a little Filipino/black girl and said something to the effect of “I think they would make a nice pair” and put Randy Gardner and Tai Babilonia on the ice together.  Needless to say, the rest is World Champion history.  Due to her failing health at that time, I only had the chance to speak directly to Mabel briefly on the telephone, but I will never forget her delicate and determined voice even in illness saying how important it was to make sure that ALL the skaters get a chance.  She died in 2001.

I could go on, but there is a more important element to this story.  I started by saying that with Culver City Ice closing, so are the hopes and dreams of many skaters who won’t have access to the sport of skating whether that be figure skating or hockey.  Most of those kids are of color…and most of them don’t know the depth of the history of skaters of color outside of those of Japanese, Korean and Chinese decent (all of whom are phenomenally talented and deserve all the praise they get…Mirai Nagasu!)  Culver City Ice is on the border of several poor communities where one of the only low cost fun family, teen activities is ice skating.  What a loss.  I remember being a child in New York City after seeing Peggy Fleming skate at the Olympics and wanting more than anything to “do that.” My parents indulged me briefly by taking me to the Sky Rink once, but it was too far away and too costly. The message was clear.  Little boys…particularly little black boys, don’t figure skate.  How lucky the kids of Culver City have been, to skate in the home of the All Year Figure Skating Club in a place that was easy to get to on a bike or by bus.  There might have been some little black boy skating there thinking “I’m going to be the one to stand on the top of the Olympic podium.” Now we will never know.

Adam Dyer with Peggy Fleming in 2011

While I was at Culver City, not only did I have the chance to skate with National Champion, Gary Visconti and Olympic Champion Bob Paul, but I had the chance as a former Broadway dancer to share my love and knowledge of dance with a few young skaters of color. I am insanely proud that I had the chance to work with the young Tetona Jackson who later went on to be the first to portray Disney’s first black princess, Tiana, in Disney on Ice.  The legacy of black and brown skaters continues even today despite the barriers that remain both through finance and through the limited vision of many judges and coaches in the sport.

So, Mr. Samuels, again, I support you as being passionate about the sport of figure skating. So am I. So are all the people I mentioned above.  So are many, many other people, men and women, boys and girls, all of them people of color in this country and abroad…and all of us are considered outsiders.  Our voices have been crying into the wind and being unheard for years.  They de-fund our learn to skate programs, they keep us off the podium (or at the very least off the top spot…hello Surya Bonaly!) and they close our rinks.  The real story here is not about a black guy who likes to watch figure skating.  The real story is about all of the black guys who have been shut out of being on the podium or even in the competition throughout the history of the sport.  Let’s hear about that huh?

The post A Lesson in Figure Skating and Black Men appeared first on The Good Men Project.

 

Wai Sallas asks himself what *would* Brian Boitano do, as he explains the glitz, glamour, and power . . . of Figure Skating.

“Figure skating is theatrical. It’s artistic. It’s elegant. It’s extremely athletic. And there’s a very specific audience for that.” — Johnny Weir

Is it the theatrics?

Is it the combination of grace and power?

What WOULD Brian Boitano Do?

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Photo Credit: flickr/zhem_chug

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The post Sports Explained: Figure Skating appeared first on The Good Men Project.

If you make only one resolution in 2015, make sure you resolve to checkout our “Sports Explained…” series every week. We promise you’ll flip over them— you’re welcome!

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Let’s face it, sometimes the nuances of sports can be confusing. From the squeeze play to college football playoffs – who can keep pace with all the 24/7 happenings in the wild world of sports???

That’s where  our “Sports Explained…” series helps. Each week we take a light-hearted look at some of the more humorous aspects of athletics. Below is a recap of our 2014 line-up.

If you like any of them make sure you don’t miss a single installment in 2015. We promise it will be one resolution you’ll want to keep. Your funny bone will thank you!

♦◊♦

Baseball: The complex simplicity of America’s pastime.

Football: Sports Goofy helps us explain.

Basketball: From Fletch to Bedazzled to the stars of the NBA.

Soccer: Jason Sudeikis and The Minions help us explain.

Rugby: An international blend of sports you are familiar with.

Ultimate Frisbee: It started in a small New Jersey town in the 1960s….

Golf: From Happy Gilmore to Caddyshack.

Lacrosse: A native american sport, coopted by prep schools.

Bowling: From The Big Lebowski to Kingpin.

Figure Skating: What would Brian Boitano do?

Weightlifting: With an assist from Saturday Night Live and some helpful memes.

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Join our community at the The Good Men Project Sports Facebook Page.

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Join us! If you have a favorite sports quote or a sport you want us to cover in ‘Sports Explained,’ please send us your submission via email to anyone on the GMP sports team: Mike at mkasdan@gmail.com, Kimanzi at kconstable29@gmail.com, or Tor at torconbooks@gmail.com. You can also connect with them via Twitter @torcon, @KimanziC and @michaelkasdan using #GMPSports.

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Photo: Koji Kawano/Flickr

The post The Best of “Sports Explained . . .” for 2014 appeared first on The Good Men Project.

… But give them a little free time on the ice, and they can create beauty.

The role of men is changing in the 21st century. Want to keep up? Get the best stories from The Good Men Project delivered straight to your inbox, here.

The post Hockey Goalie Takes a Break, Does Some Beautiful Figure Skating appeared first on The Good Men Project.

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The post Adam Rippon was Already an ace at Figure Skating (and TV Interviews) When he was 13 appeared first on The Good Men Project.

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“I, Tonya” is amazing. Margot Robbie gifts a career defining performance. Margot plays disgraced 1994 US Olympic figure skater Tonya Harding. Her performance as Tonya is fearless, vulnerable, sad and poignantly flawed. Harding is notorious for knowing about the attack upon US figure skating Champion Nancy Kerrigan which led to her eventual ban from competitive skating which was her life.

Director Craig Gillespie neither vilifies nor justifies Tonya, offering the experience of being her. That she wanted to be loved, to be gotten, and to be the best. At the time Tonya was the only women’s figure skater in the world to land the impossible triple axel in competition. Robbie as Tonya in an interview in the movie acknowledged when she landed the triple axel in the trials she knew, “I was the best!” Tonya was driven, the figure skating phenom, but she was less than phenom in her life. I think that is the poignancy of Gillespie’s direction and Steven Rogers’s story.

“I, Tonya” is not really dark comedy. “I, Tonya” is just dark with laughs in its irony and the stupidity of those closest to Tonya. The movie is the dichotomy that defines the tragedy of domestic violence and abuse. In one scene Tonya’s husband Jeff, played by convincing Sebastian Stan, slams the freezer door in Tonya’s face, because she questions why he didn’t buy Dove ice cream bars. That is so wrong. That makes you so angry.

Gillespie depicts that pattern of abuse throughout of beating on screen. And Tonya takes it, and stays until she can no longer. The abuse originates with Mom LaVona, played by focused Allison Janney, who thinks she is tough love as she pushes her daughter in her skating career. No, Mom is an abuser. Janney’s LaVona could have been comic caricature; instead she brilliantly nuances the single Mom working waitress raising her kid the way she was raised. Robbie is touching humanity as Tonya, who has the self-awareness that she is uneducated, but she is smarter than she thinks and way smarter than those surrounding her.

“I, Tonya” and Robbie in contrasts of edgy humor and human cruelty touchingly tells the story of how we are raised and the people we choose to spend life with either define or curse us. Much about Tonya seems to be the in order to, to prove something. In the great scene before her competition her new Coach Doty, played by strong Bojana Novakovic, tells her “You show them.” That I think becomes the conversation that dominates Tonya’s life.

Needing her Mom’s help after she leaves husband Jeff, Tonya sees her Mom. She asks her Mom that when she was a kid, “Did you love me?” Robbie’s Tonya is in tears. That breaks your heart. Really Tonya just wanted to be loved, like we all do. That may be the point of Gillespie’s “I, Tonya” with all its emotional extremes and uncomfortable laughs. Perhaps, most of the laughs come from the blatant stupidity of Jeff and his idiot friend Shawn, played by good Paul Walter Hauser.

Maybe “I, Tonya” works in its profound sadness as well. Toward the end, Tonya says, “I am not a monster.” No, she’s not. She is just the little girl who wanted love and never got it. She was driven and wanted to be the best. Tonya is just human. She is both lightness and darkness. Perhaps within “I, Tonya” are both loud laughs and the subtle lesson of having compassion. “I, Tonya” is one of my favorite movies of the year.

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Originally Published on IMDb

The post I, Tonya appeared first on The Good Men Project.

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I watched the 2018 World Figure Skating Championships. In competition, each participant starts off with the predefined perfect score. As they perform judges deduct points for each infraction or imperfection occurred. Judges award bonus points in the second half of the program once the skater completes the prerequisite jumps, dependent on their additional jump’s defined degrees of difficulty.

Skilled 15-year-old Russian Alina Zagitova skated her freestyle program in 1st place standing following her short program performance. Alina was the surprise 2018 Winter Olympic Gold Medalist in Women’s Figure Skating. She landed her first triple jump perfectly at the beginning of her freestyle program. She skated like she was in her zone.

Typically, Alina saves all her triple jumps for the second half of her program. Opening that segment, she misjudged her spins and fell twice. Panicked she fell again and again. Bewildered, she closes out her routine not risking anything. Exiting the ice, she bursts into tears on her coach’s shoulder.

Her imperfections tumbled her from her 1st place standing. Her constructed game starts from perfection, and corrects as imperfections accumulate. This is the game of perfection, not making mistakes. Alina’s game is solitary. She truly stands alone. There’s no freedom to dare to lose. There’s no freedom to dare to be greater than she knows. Risking greater than can be punished.

John Donne wrote that “No man is an island”

No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine own were:
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.

We’re all part of the whole. We’re all human. In some way, we lose with Alina. It’s that design of the game she chooses to play. Her game is about perfection. Perfection is not only unrealistic. It is oh so unforgiving.

As much as I enjoy Women’s Figure Skating I’m the Pro Football guy. In Football, both teams start from zero. The winner scores the most points at the end of 4 quarters of play or in overtime. I love the game’s design. I love simple.

New England Patriots Quarterback Tom Brady is my Man. In the second half of Super Bowl 2017, the Patriots were down by 22 points to the Atlanta Falcons. Tom threw an impetuous pass intercepted by the Falcons. Tom walked of the field pulling off his straps from his helmet with that look in his eyes, “That’s not happening again!”

In the second half, Tom threw 3 touchdowns and accomplished the greatest comeback in Super Bowl history. Tom won his 5th career Super Bowl and his 3rd Super Bowl MVP. At the award presentation Tom tells Pro Football Hall of Famer Michael Strahan, who said he’s the best Quarterback he’s ever seen play, “Michael, I’m not the best. I’m just tired.”

In Super Bowl 2018, the Patriots were down 8 points with 3 seconds left in the game. Tom dropped back to pass and unleashed a 50-yard bomb into the end zone. All-Pro Tight end Rob Gronkowski leaped into the air amidst 3 other defenders. But it was not to be. The Philadelphia Eagles won their first Super Bowl ever.

Tom gave his all until the very end. Others like Gronk had his back in that possibility. Tom masters the “internal game”. He completed with 505 passing yard, 3 touchdowns, and no interceptions. In the post-game interview, Tom said, “This sucks.” He congratulated the Eagles on their well-deserved victory.

Tom admitted on “The Stephen Colbert Show” that it took him about a month to get over the Super Bowl loss. Now at 41 years old, he prepares for another run at Super Bowl 2019. He trains to be greater. I’m pretty sure Tom would rather have gotten his 6th Super Bowl ring.

However, Tom is about what’s possible until the very end of the game. That inspired me. That’s learning the Way to Lose according to Bruce Lee. Hold out for what’s possible. Whatever happens, happens. Live with the outcome. Move on.

One morning in intense Aikido weapons training, I practiced the art of the jo, the wooden staff. We practiced for the two-person attack. The person in front of you with the jo attacks to strike your head; the person behind you strikes your head with the jo as well simultaneously. The Game: Two people come to ‘kill’ you. You evade and counter-attack. You take both attackers down.

Fortunately, this is just a game. No one dies, intentionally. Of course, I’m kidding. Yet, the game is played like life and death. Practice like it’s “on”.

On my part as soon as the person in front raises his or her jo to strike, I move in and strike first. Create space in front. Then while facing forward, I swing my jo back at the person striking from behind creating space, again.

I turn back to the front profiling my body stepping out of the line of the attack. I strike the front attacker on the head. Then I turn behind and strike the attacker from behind as I stand in profile.

Surrender to the possibility of losing. Learn the Art of Dying. We all make mistakes. It’s inevitable in life. Granted, some mistakes are more costly than others. Accept all mistakes. Become greater because of them, and move on.

You aren’t always going to win. Learn the Way to Lose, becoming greater than you know yourself to be. No Man or Woman is an island. No one is truly alone. Listen to those who listen to you as greater, to those who walk beside you. We’re all together in life. I’ll play that game. What game will you play?
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Photo credit: Pixabay

The post Play the Greater Than Game. Not the Perfection Game. appeared first on The Good Men Project.