The Ball, The Boys, and Me: A Journey Back to Playfulness

Something happened to me, slowly, over years. I stopped being fun.

I was never close to being muppet-level fun, or even sitcom-level fun, but I was at least average. But this weekend, I finally realized how far I’ve fallen, and how much of a stiff I’ve become.

This realization, poetically, all started with a ball.

It’s as if it was magnetic. Within minutes of showing up at the park, a first or second grader approached Robert after noticing the ball at his feet.

“Hey, you wanna play soccer?”

And then, our Kindergartner began shedding his armor of quiet and shyness. His confidence and voice gradually returned, his personality emerging from behind his protective shield.

And for the next 40 minutes, he had a buddy. Sure, Bo came back and forth to the safety of outstretched hand. Mostly, though, he didn’t need me. The ball helped him transform - from being a little boy hurt by words and elbows on the playground, into just a little boy, running and smiling.

That’s the magic of the ball.

The magical, magnetic ball is his life preserver when he’s lost in a new place. The magic ball does the heavy work, bringing others into his world, when he’s too afraid to invite them in. The ball gives him a focus point, an entry point into friendship and being part of a group.

The magic of the ball, any ball, is that when a ball arrives, play follows. The ball is a vessel, the conduit, for the magic of play.

Play is liberation. It lets us run, skip, express, create, and be. Play is fun. It brings joy, relief, refuge, and laughter. Play is medicine. It helps us bond, repair relationships, recharge, and heal.

I also need this magic.

Bo already manifests my two biggest neuroses: the need to be perfect and the need to be affirmed by other people’s praise. I transmuted these shackles onto him because of something I’m role modeling - he’s too young to have just inherited these behaviors from the culture.

I’m not even trying to be, and I’m so damn serious all the time. I focus, plan, and do dishes in an almost militant manner. Do I ever have fun and play around? If I do, it’s when my sons are already asleep.

But how do I even play? How do I take a status meeting and make it feel a little more like play? How do I take the chore of washing dishes and make it into a game? Somewhere along the way, I became a robot that does tasks and managed a scheduled instead of a person who plays around.

How could I have let this happen? To be sure, I consider myself a lucky man. My life has a lot of comfort, joy, meaning, and love. But what happened to fun? Somehow, fun is something I used to be. Play is something I used to do.

I don’t want to live like this. How did we let ourselves live like this? When did it happen? How do I get out of these chains of drudgery and seriousness?

One answer, it seems, is right in front of me. I have to be more like them. I have three sons, and they play all the time. For some part of the day, I need to put my serious face away and just mimic them. I need them to be my role models, instead of me trying to be theirs.

They are the vessel; they are my conduit. They, my sons, are my magic ball. Through them, I can find the part of me that is fun again. They, if I let them, can be the liberators of the bondage of seriousness I didn’t even know I had.

Photo by Robert Collins on Unsplash

Sports Are Designed To Be A Cultural Juggernaut

On my way home from a restaurant lunch last week I wasn’t upset, but I was a bit flabbergasted - how did we talk about sports almost the entire time?

It’s not that I’m disinterested in sports. On the contrary, I like sports quite a bit. But if I walk into a room, especially if the majority of the people present are men, I’m almost always the person least interested in sports. 

Which isn’t miserable, but it’s also not fun to be that guy. Being in the company of others, barely having anything to say because everyone else has a seeming encyclopedic knowledge of every game, player, and offensive scheme is legitimately boring.

When I originally envisioned this post, I imagined it as a cultural critique of hyper masculinity and the need for our culture to be more worldly. In my head I imagined, with full-on Yosemite Sam voice, posing this question as the post’s title: why does everyone talk so damn much about sports? Finally, I thought, I could have my emotional release as the sports novice arguing a greater cultural relevance for my preferred domains: like the arts, politics, and religion.

But when I actually thought about that question - why does everyone talk so much about sports - I realized there are tons of reasons why. Sports are designed to be a cultural force. Rather than berating sports (which is what I expected to do in this post), I’ve changed my mind, maybe other aspects of culture should actually be more like sports. 

Here are some examples of how the sports industry is designed to be culturally significant. Imagine if politics, the arts, or religion took on some of these attributes. I don’t know for sure, but I suspect they’d have more cultural relevance than they do:

• In sports, there’s are much data and statistics that are shared transparently about games and players. Anyone who wants to can study those data to develop expertise and fluency about their favorite sports.

• Different “channels” have differentiated experiences that are catered to the audience. Going to the game and watching it on TV can both be terrific for different reasons. People talk about those awesome experiences, and word spreads.

• Announcers guide the audience and explain what’s happening in a supportive, non-pretentious way. That helps novices understand the game and experts engage more deeply.

• Anyone can become a fan of any team - it’s easy to opt in. There’s no test or application to submit. This is incredibly inclusive even if some artifacts like jerseys and hats come at a cost.

• Sports are highly localized, one can become a fan of their local team and watch a live game within driving distance of home. Sports teams are not geographically isolated from their fans, rather they’re highly integrated into their local community. And, fans can play sports in their own neighborhood with their friends and family!

• Though many leagues have ethical issues of many sorts, the integrity of the game is taken seriously. In major sports leagues, fans can trust that the game isn’t fixed, and athletes who gamble on games are harshly punished.

• Similarly, during games rules are tightly enforced, with referees who are highly trained professionals. For all the griping sports fans do about refs, it’s hard to claim they’re corrupt. And conduct that distracts from the game, like fighting or flagrant fouls, get players ejected.

• Players and coaches are highly visible and accessible, relative to other professions. There are press conferences, in-game interviews, and lots of fan events where regular people can interact with their hometown heroes.

• Even commentators on television networks seem like fun, everyday people. They comport themselves with professionalism and seem like a blast to be around. Who wouldn’t want to spend a day hanging out with Shaq or Michael Strahan?

• Athletes and coaches have compelling personal stories and they actually act like themselves on camera. The human storytelling element is a huge part of sports, which gives people a personal, emotional connection to the game. The 30 for 30 documentary series by ESPN is a great example of storytelling in sports.

• Sports have partnerships that cause intersections with huge swaths of culture: journalism, fashion, health and wellness, community service, social justice, politics, and commerce. 

Sports is incredibly accessible and multi-dimensional. It’s an industry designed to be talked about, shared, and culturally pervasive. It’s no surprise that sports has huge cultural influence relative to its size as an industry.

Of course, sports has its problems and dark elements - especially around the labor relationship between players and owners. There are also clear imbalances and issues to work out around the difference in treatment and compensation of male and female athletes. Personally, it’s also incredibly frustrating to me when people I know (usually men, many of which are my buddies) use sports as an instrument to project dominance and act with a pompous air of condescension and exclusivity. I acknowledge and agree that sports culture has serious shortcomings.

But dang, as a cultural force the sports industry really has it figured out. I wish that domains that I personally care about more - like the arts, politics, and religion - took note from sports. 

For example, wouldn’t it be an interesting experiment if the “game day experience” of church was more thoughtful for both in-person services and virtually? Or, what if political parties voluntarily hired independent referees to self-regulate “fighting” and “unsportsmanlike conduct” so that elections were less yucky to the average citizen? What if artists were much more accessible to fans and embraced partnerships outside their mediums as much as athletes and sports franchises do? If the arts, religion, and politics took a page from sports organizations, maybe they’d have more cultural relevance and more enthusiastic participation from their constituents.

Either way, I’ve started to appreciate the sports industry more in the past few months. Even if I still roll my eyes at how much cultural bandwidth sports consumes and how my guy friends don’t shut up about the last weekend’s games, I can’t help but respect how sports is designed to be, and truly is, a cultural juggernaut.