In the past 104 years of true sporting legend I am but a toddler, a very young, perhaps 4 or 5-year-old fan of the Tour de France. As with all young children I jumped in the Tour de France or TdF as true fans refer to it in writing, with both feet. I reluctantly admit that I became a fan during the waning days of the Armstrong dynasty, as many did. I am reluctant to admit this fact because I consider myself an independent thinker, not one to follow the masses. Yet still, cycle racing remains a low priority for most American’s even in the wake of Armstrong, so I don’t feel too bad about my “independent” decision.
Prior to becoming a rabid fan of the TdF I typically would spend long summer months wishing for the chance to watch the FIFA World Cup on ESPN. Every year, during the month of June, I count the seasons until the next World Cup. The chance comes only once every four years and I therefore I must wait patiently. Then I found the TdF on the Outdoor Living Network (OLN), just one click down on my cable line-up. Suddenly life during the summer had meaning – at least until the end of July. I was not brand new to cycling – I still have a nice bike I purchased with paper route money in 1978 – it still has the old style toe clips and only 12 speeds but it was state of the art 30 years ago. And I am familiar with the names of Greg LeMond, Miguel Indurain, and even Eddy Merckx. But when I was a kid in the 80’s I was not passionate either about the TdF or cycling in general. Every kid in the United States has a bicycle after all but the ubiquitous passion is lacking. For the last 4 years however, the TdF has lifted my spirits – both anticipating its start, early in the summer, and thinking about it’s conclusion, as the summer passed into the fall.
And now, just as quickly as I became a fan, the TdF has lost luster and is on the verge of becoming a hollow event. Something has occurred that disrupts my security and has sent me away scratching my head. The TdF has been violated. I feel like a victim – there clearly are many victims though as the TdF concludes in Paris on this very day. The TdF spin-doctors would have you believe the fans have their sport back and all is right with the world. But there are victims and there will be more -- the sponsors, the so called clean riders, the cities and towns along the route, and of course the riders who have been found cheating. Anyone can claim to be a victim – so I will also put in my claim to be a victim. I don’t put money into this sport. My impact on this sport is so small, so inconsequential; I stand nothing to gain from it. I have no favorites. I have no investment – but I feel like I am losing all the value that once appeared before me. The sport, the event, the contest, is being destroyed before my eyes and it is painful to watch. Only those of us who are clean – and I don’t mean in the doping sense – those who in this sport stand to profit nothing are the ones I am describing as clean. But does that make us victims or just innocent of any crime? Everyone else who has an agenda must be the real perpetrators. Whether they have a favorite team or favorite rider, whether they are in it for the money or the prestige, I question who in this sport has not stood by for decades knowing that there was cheating going on? If the event started 104 years ago, the cheating started 103 years ago. If doping is a problem then I blame the guilty - but that doesn't necessarily mean they are the criminals. I’ve only been a fan for a few years but I know many riders are cheating – the most grueling sport on the planet waged over 20+ straight days. At the expense of insulting more than a few riders, yeah right. And even if direct cheating isn't going on, who hasn’t been under suspicion or at a minimum been accused of some violation if they performed well? And furthermore, who hasn't at a minimum suspected someone else of competitive malfeasance.
Every champion for decades has been accused. But it’s not just cycling, right? It’s every professional sport. So do we just cancel professional sports out right? Or do we wake up to the reality that sports are much more a spectacle of entertainment and far less one of human achievement. A race is about the race. It is the excitement of charging full speed for some line in the sand, to get there first. It is, or has to be, the very oldest of human competitions. It requires nothing more that the very primordial desire to get some place first – probably, and most likely, to be first to the dinner table. We all race, it’s in our blood. The question is at what level do be begin to cheat? Because after that very first primordial race, after there was declared a victorious winner and a sorry loser, there was a second race. Two things happened. First the loser started looking for a way to gain an advantage. Second the winner started looking for a way to keep the advantage. If the race is close, it’s exciting. If it’s a rout it’s not a race. A race must be close and someone must be able to gain the advantage in order to win or it wouldn’t be exciting. Is that wrong? Or is that just racing?Let’s stop kidding ourselves and this is important. Everyone is dirty because everyone is always looking for an advantage. The question is where is the line between what is an accepted advantage, money to purchase a lighter bike for instance, and what is not an accepted advantage, such as taking a banned substance? Drafting, the technique of placing yourself in the slip stream of the rider in front of you, is, at its very basic nature, cheating. But what would racing be without the technique of drafting? Again, if the race is close, the race is exciting. I’ve been an amateur motorcycle racer – I could not afford an expensive machine. My bike was 10 years old. I could have taken all the EPO in the world but I was never going to win on my old machine. But performance-enhancing drugs don’t help too much in a motor sport – at least they don’t at my level. No it would be easier for me to modify my machine with some banned apparatus to get more horsepower. But my bike is required to go through a technical inspection. I could never win based on my talents alone – what was required was that I purchase a new motorcycle – that would give me an advantage over many riders and that would be acceptable. Didn't I just buy myself to the front of the race? And those who stand to profit most from my purchase just happen to be in the business of making racing motorcycles and putting on motorcycle races.
The problem is that there should be rules of fair play in athletic competitions – there should be in sports – gracious humble winners and good losers. We need more of folks with that attitude. Now take pro wrestling as another example. Hell, we know that Pro wrestling is rigged and it’s still exciting. But a rigged race wouldn’t be exciting at all. So in the same vane, does having the money to buy better equipment constitute cheating as well, just because it’s allowed by the rules? I happen to think it does. And this is why -- it’s all about the money, it’s not about the race. The sport of cycle racing is comprised of those who have money and those who want more of it – it’s a business. This sport, all sports, any sport where there is money involved, expect it to be dirty.
So should we police the sport – should we strive to keep it clean? The answer no – because it is dirty by its very nature. Gaining the advantage is by it’s very nature the art of racing. Ask NASCAR. But trying to gain the advantage is present in any professional sport, although it’s the very essence of racing. Yes we should have some rules – to keep sports from descending into anarchy and of course to generally protect the safety of the participants. But with racing, it is the excitement of using your advantage to overcome the adversity just in the final closing yards.Unfortunately it is not the drive to gain the advantage that is destroying the TdF and other sports; it’s the hypocritical cheaters that are destroying the TdF as well as other events. It is these self-righteous cheaters who are destroying every good venue by going on witch hunts. These witch hunters are hypocrites because they are trying to gain their own advantage. They are trying to over turn their perception of an unfair advantage with their own style of advantage – that of accusing the winners of cheating. They are trying to take the advantage off the track to establish the winners and the losers of the race on the track. If your team loses don’t accept the loss. Accuse the winners of cheating. This is the very pinnacle of being a sore loser. But it’s not necessarily the athletes who are the sore losers, it’s the teams and sponsors and organizers the countryman and the media whose money, pride, or lack of a good story that is in jeopardy. This is the height of irony. It’s so pervasive that in some countries they reward the treacherous for being sly enough to gain a tactical advantage, either on or off the battleground. Competition, and perhaps the more serious revelation that the primordial rush to the dinner table meant the difference between life and death, at it’s root, is life or death, means that treachery means survival. And if you remember the Great Coach of the Liverpool Football Club, Bill Shankly once said, 'Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I'm very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that.' It is the primordial rush to the dinner table that constitutes a race and that is what makes it exciting to witness, over and over again, in every athletic competition, save the Olympics which does reserve a special place for human achievement. But rarely, if ever, are professional sports about anything but who gets to eat. Your job is to put food on the table, a lot of food. When you put food on the table, you are eliminating food from the other guy’s table. Professional wrestling learned that if they control the entertainment medium and make the entire event a shame they could make even more money.
But to control a racing event, where no one has the advantage, would be like riding go-carts at the beach. It simply wouldn’t be a race if no one could find an advantage – because no one would win. It’s like bob sled racing – where the winner and the loser is separated by 100th of a second. That’s a ridiculous race – you might as well drop two marbles to the floor and time their arrival and declare a winner or a loser. There really are no winners or losers in this type of event; although we have to name one. So back to the TdF, who are the victims? Yes there should be rules. Establish the rules and stick to the rules. But don’t make the rules so restrictive that the race is won off the track – or rules that give those other than the athlete’s control of the outcome of the race. Yes there will be cheating and those caught breaking the rules can sit out the next race. The very essence of racing is gaining the advantage – the only difference is where the creativity to win comes from that can move the sport forward. If we ban everyone trying to find an advantage, trying to race, there will be no one left on the road. Further, if we don’t let the winners win and the losers lose on the track then we will let the hypocrites settle the race off the track. Those are the true bad guys and the reason you see push back from many racing teams on the issue of doping. The teams are trying to race, trying to win. But the team itself doesn't stand as much to lose as the rider. It is the rider's blood and sweat that gets left on the roads through France. It is the rider who is pushed to the brink both physically and mentally day in and day out. It is the rider who is under so much pressure to find an advantage who rolls the dice and pushes hard against the rules. And when they have ridden hard through hell, experienced pain for hours on end, reached to top of an arduous climb, and finally crossed through the finish line throwing their hands skyward, we relish their victory. Then the cowardly hypocrites emerge looking to strip them of their victory on the road. Sometimes they succeed. If they win the punishment for trying to gain the advantage becomes absolute. A rider's career is over. After dedicating most of their life with countless hours in the saddle training for such a small moment in time as a stage victory in the Tour de France. Those who have not won, have not yet found the advantages that will take them over the top first -- and there are many advantages necessary. I therefore give you the true victim's of what we have been witnessing in France this month. Those who are pushed to the brink and look just a bit too far for the winning advantage. Does their punishment fit the crime? Are the real criminals prosecuted? The answer to both questions has to be no.
So where do we go from here? A tradition that spans 104 years cannot be given up lightly, nor should it be. Something will change. It has too. The TdF will lose fans, coverage, and sponsorship. Those who love the sport will keep it alive no matter how low it sinks on the horizon. Riders will keep coming - thriving on the ultimate race and test off their skills - and fortunately, they will continue to look for an advantage be it tactical, physical, or mechanical. And I'm glad they will because that's what racing is all about. So let's not give up on the TdF, yes let’s keep it safe. But let’s also keep the essence of racing alive for those of us who simply enjoy a great race.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Thursday, July 26, 2007
The Beautiful Game
It is only with great arrogance that one argues the virtues of one poor analogy over an equally shortsighted example. It is with this same arrogance that I speak up in defense of my chosen sport – futball to the rest of the world – soccer here in the United States. I play soccer to gain both physical and mental fitness. Playing soccer correctly requires agility, stamina, and creativity. The Brazilians call it the beautiful game because when it is played with finesse and timing it can mesmerize the viewer, not unlike a well-choreographed ballet. Yet it is not the only sport that can captivate an audience. All sports can have beauty when the human body exhibits fluid motion – gymnastics, tennis, and figure skating fall into this category. Played as a team – ice hockey, basketball, and soccer are played fluidly and produce a range of human motion. Even American football, although played in a series of short intervals, contains human motion that can be defined as beautiful. Only team sports, as opposed to individual competitions, possess the necessary element of combat to warrant an analogy with warfare and how it is waged. It is here that my contribution to this discussion begins.
I grew up playing America football. My earliest memories playing football include wearing the Cleveland Browns uniform my parents purchased out of the Sears Christmas Catalog – not because I liked Cleveland, but rather because I liked the orange helmet. All of the NFL uniforms were available and they were neatly laid out in neatly in the pages of the catalog. I remember scanning those pages for hours before finally making my choice. Strangely my best friend also received a Cleveland Browns uniform for Christmas and coincidently our two friends up the street both got Los Angeles Rams uniforms. With my friend’s older brother – who played for the local high school team – acting as a quarterback for both sides, we played well through summer. We huddled, we planned, we ran, we blocked, we faked, we moved slowly up the field. We scored. I also remember attending the high school games – always with my eyes locked on the wide receiver – our special backyard quarterback.
Next up in my memory bank comes the punt, pass, and kick competition. I didn’t fare too well in these events. My friend has a shelf full of trophies. I wanted to win a trophy one day. When it became time to join a league team I had already moved away and was introduced to soccer – perhaps there was another way to win a trophy. I continued to play sand lot football with my new friends on my new street, but when it was time to play a team sport, soccer was already stealing my heart. Although everything still revolved around football, nobody seemed to notice I was playing soccer and nobody seemed to care – it wasn’t until I started receiving Sports Illustrated magazine that I noticed somebody did care. I’m quite certain that between 1970 and 1980 SI didn’t even know that soccer was a sport. Our culture revolved around football, and despite what Chevrolet may contend football had usurped the more prominent American pastime of baseball.
Holidays, of course, were not complete without football on TV. The entire family stuffed with turkey in the family room watching the games. Who didn’t participate in this cultural conditioner? Up until this point this conditioning was all subconscious – it happened without much choice. Consciously, I took an active interest in football as a spectator when I arrived in high school. Everything centered on the football team. The weight room, the private locker room, the best uniforms, the marching band, and, of course, the cheerleaders all seemed to exist for the support of the football team. I still didn’t much about money or consider the financial side of things. All I knew about money was that the football team didn’t have fundraisers. The track team went door-to-door collecting newspapers to recycle. The band just went door-to-door begging. But every Friday night you were expected to be at the football game. That’s where your friends were. That’s where the girls were – and if you were lucky – that’s where your first kiss occurred. The pep rallies, the bonfires, the homecoming (I still don’t understand homecoming) – but I do know selecting the homecoming queen is a popularity contest. Cliques were formed – the popular guys dated the popular girls. The geeks hung out with the band. The druggies smoked cigarettes under the bleachers. Everybody was present and accounted for at those Friday night games. The cultural brain washing was nearly complete by the time we graduated from high school. Those who chose to go to college would leave their high school teams behind in favor of the great college squads. Those who did not go to college began following their father’s favorite pro team or shifted to stockcar racing.
I went to college and again received a healthy dose of football Americana. I stood through every college game I attended. I spend the week before the game finding a date to bring. I went to the pep rallies and the bon fires. I lived for the weekends – and, as a bonus, we could now drink beer at the stadium. We drank before the games and after the games as well. We drank either to celebrate a victory or to drown out a defeat, it didn’t matter – although you might celebrate with a more expensive import choosing to drown your sorrows with a cheaper domestic. If you were really lucking you would have sex with your date back in the dorm. If you were really really lucking you would have sex with your date at midnight on the fifty-yard line. If you were not so lucking you would spend the night throwing up in the toilet. What’s not to love about football?
But what does any of this have to do with warfare and the way the United States military conducts operations? If you haven’t been paying attention it is the arrogance of a winner that has drawn the ire of our adversaries. It is precisely our belief in the complete and total dominance of our adversary that makes us a winner – but we can only win doing what we know we can do best – we are the best at playing football. And, in case you haven’t noticed, it is football that has emerged as the champion of our capitalist society. Football wins the race for the money with advertising space during the Superbowl still the most valuable airtime in the history of television.
It is precisely this strategy of total dominance that leads to the criticism of football’s focus on centralized command and centralized control as the wrong way to do business during a conflict. But as we know, total domination, is the only way to do business when American lives are at stake. You go tell the mom or dad that their son or daughter died in combat because it was necessary to go easy on the enemy – they were getting their feelings hurt so we backed off a little. We didn’t want to run up the score, it might upset them and make the rivalry game next year just that much more difficult. It would be poor form like to run up the score. That’s a load of crap! Of course we run up the score in combat. We hit them with everything we’ve got, and then some. The point is that we’ve got more than football in our bag of tricks – we’ve got soccer too, as well as hockey, and basketball – we just haven’t learned about flexibility, about other ways to do things, that sometimes you can get more done with a carrot than a hammer. That’s the entire first article by Li and was attempting to point out. Not to attack the sacrosanct sport of our culture. American men have not learned the lesson. American women – perhaps filling the void caused by not being allowed to play football – have learned the lesson. Have you ever heard of Mia Hamm or Christine Lilly. This year, Pele (Does he need an introduction?) recently named the greatest 100 soccer players of all time. His list included 98 men from all over the world; none are from the United States. The list also includes 2 women – you guessed it – Mia Hamm and Christine Lilly who were both born and bred in the USA.
The men’s World Cup was held in Korea and Japan in 2002. The US men’s team produced their best showing ever. It was a competition to behold – with one of the greatest finals of all time pitting the mighty game played by the German’s against the beautiful game play by Brazil. An estimated 1 billion soccer fans worldwide witnessed this spectacle. Never was a venue more ripe for the political picking – soccer was absent from the US political agenda. No picking occurred. Although our political machine did not show up for the photo op, American corporations did show up to display their wares on this global billboard.
The Women’s World Cup was held last summer in the United States. It was supposed to be held in China – but with the outbreak SARS – world travel plans were changed. I still wonder if anyone in our government knows or cares that during the competition the North Korean’s were playing for honor and glory in our heartland – Columbus, Ohio to be exact. China also brought their team. Another great venue ripe for the political picking was ignored. Not stupidity – mostly out of ignorance with a smattering of arrogance.
So there is much more this Country and our military can learn from the sport of soccer. I will not belabor the commentaries that have come before this – except to say soccer is closer aligned with a revolution in military affairs in that the transformational war fighting construct that it and other sports of a continuous and free flowing nature (basketball, hockey, etc.) demonstrate is one of shared awareness and the ability to self synchronize. On the gridiron, awareness is far from shared. Viewing each facemask can assess the necessary level of awareness for each player. The more bars on the cage the less awareness necessary. And on each set play, everyone has very specific instructions. Contrast that with the requirement for everyone on the field, court, or ice to know the position of the ball or puck and the relative position and capability of player engaged in the battle. No additional coordination is necessary. If an attacker is moving down the wing his job is to cross the ball into the penalty box. It is the requirement for the striker to be aware that the run is taking place and to synchronize their own run to have their head or stick on the end of the ball or puck when the cross comes.
It is of course sheer folly to make these black and white comparisons. War is the most complex of all human endeavors. What we do know for certain about the nature of warfare is that it is an uncertain business. The fog of war permeates everything. Preparing for all strategic contingencies is resource prohibitive. Preparing for the Superbowl is a noble calling if the game is actually played. Having the flexibility to adapt to a different strategy is more important if the competition fails to enter the stadium on Superbowl Sunday – or moves the ball off the soccer field as been suggested. When that day comes let’s not get caught in the stadium alone or stacked at the line of scrimmage. A pick-up game of soccer in the parking lot may be all that we have left or a lone goalkeeper standing in the net when the ball comes back on the field. Let’s make sure we have some good all-purpose athletic shoes in the trunk of the car and the knowledge of many games – we might even have to play basketball.
I grew up playing America football. My earliest memories playing football include wearing the Cleveland Browns uniform my parents purchased out of the Sears Christmas Catalog – not because I liked Cleveland, but rather because I liked the orange helmet. All of the NFL uniforms were available and they were neatly laid out in neatly in the pages of the catalog. I remember scanning those pages for hours before finally making my choice. Strangely my best friend also received a Cleveland Browns uniform for Christmas and coincidently our two friends up the street both got Los Angeles Rams uniforms. With my friend’s older brother – who played for the local high school team – acting as a quarterback for both sides, we played well through summer. We huddled, we planned, we ran, we blocked, we faked, we moved slowly up the field. We scored. I also remember attending the high school games – always with my eyes locked on the wide receiver – our special backyard quarterback.
Next up in my memory bank comes the punt, pass, and kick competition. I didn’t fare too well in these events. My friend has a shelf full of trophies. I wanted to win a trophy one day. When it became time to join a league team I had already moved away and was introduced to soccer – perhaps there was another way to win a trophy. I continued to play sand lot football with my new friends on my new street, but when it was time to play a team sport, soccer was already stealing my heart. Although everything still revolved around football, nobody seemed to notice I was playing soccer and nobody seemed to care – it wasn’t until I started receiving Sports Illustrated magazine that I noticed somebody did care. I’m quite certain that between 1970 and 1980 SI didn’t even know that soccer was a sport. Our culture revolved around football, and despite what Chevrolet may contend football had usurped the more prominent American pastime of baseball.
Holidays, of course, were not complete without football on TV. The entire family stuffed with turkey in the family room watching the games. Who didn’t participate in this cultural conditioner? Up until this point this conditioning was all subconscious – it happened without much choice. Consciously, I took an active interest in football as a spectator when I arrived in high school. Everything centered on the football team. The weight room, the private locker room, the best uniforms, the marching band, and, of course, the cheerleaders all seemed to exist for the support of the football team. I still didn’t much about money or consider the financial side of things. All I knew about money was that the football team didn’t have fundraisers. The track team went door-to-door collecting newspapers to recycle. The band just went door-to-door begging. But every Friday night you were expected to be at the football game. That’s where your friends were. That’s where the girls were – and if you were lucky – that’s where your first kiss occurred. The pep rallies, the bonfires, the homecoming (I still don’t understand homecoming) – but I do know selecting the homecoming queen is a popularity contest. Cliques were formed – the popular guys dated the popular girls. The geeks hung out with the band. The druggies smoked cigarettes under the bleachers. Everybody was present and accounted for at those Friday night games. The cultural brain washing was nearly complete by the time we graduated from high school. Those who chose to go to college would leave their high school teams behind in favor of the great college squads. Those who did not go to college began following their father’s favorite pro team or shifted to stockcar racing.
I went to college and again received a healthy dose of football Americana. I stood through every college game I attended. I spend the week before the game finding a date to bring. I went to the pep rallies and the bon fires. I lived for the weekends – and, as a bonus, we could now drink beer at the stadium. We drank before the games and after the games as well. We drank either to celebrate a victory or to drown out a defeat, it didn’t matter – although you might celebrate with a more expensive import choosing to drown your sorrows with a cheaper domestic. If you were really lucking you would have sex with your date back in the dorm. If you were really really lucking you would have sex with your date at midnight on the fifty-yard line. If you were not so lucking you would spend the night throwing up in the toilet. What’s not to love about football?
But what does any of this have to do with warfare and the way the United States military conducts operations? If you haven’t been paying attention it is the arrogance of a winner that has drawn the ire of our adversaries. It is precisely our belief in the complete and total dominance of our adversary that makes us a winner – but we can only win doing what we know we can do best – we are the best at playing football. And, in case you haven’t noticed, it is football that has emerged as the champion of our capitalist society. Football wins the race for the money with advertising space during the Superbowl still the most valuable airtime in the history of television.
It is precisely this strategy of total dominance that leads to the criticism of football’s focus on centralized command and centralized control as the wrong way to do business during a conflict. But as we know, total domination, is the only way to do business when American lives are at stake. You go tell the mom or dad that their son or daughter died in combat because it was necessary to go easy on the enemy – they were getting their feelings hurt so we backed off a little. We didn’t want to run up the score, it might upset them and make the rivalry game next year just that much more difficult. It would be poor form like to run up the score. That’s a load of crap! Of course we run up the score in combat. We hit them with everything we’ve got, and then some. The point is that we’ve got more than football in our bag of tricks – we’ve got soccer too, as well as hockey, and basketball – we just haven’t learned about flexibility, about other ways to do things, that sometimes you can get more done with a carrot than a hammer. That’s the entire first article by Li and was attempting to point out. Not to attack the sacrosanct sport of our culture. American men have not learned the lesson. American women – perhaps filling the void caused by not being allowed to play football – have learned the lesson. Have you ever heard of Mia Hamm or Christine Lilly. This year, Pele (Does he need an introduction?) recently named the greatest 100 soccer players of all time. His list included 98 men from all over the world; none are from the United States. The list also includes 2 women – you guessed it – Mia Hamm and Christine Lilly who were both born and bred in the USA.
The men’s World Cup was held in Korea and Japan in 2002. The US men’s team produced their best showing ever. It was a competition to behold – with one of the greatest finals of all time pitting the mighty game played by the German’s against the beautiful game play by Brazil. An estimated 1 billion soccer fans worldwide witnessed this spectacle. Never was a venue more ripe for the political picking – soccer was absent from the US political agenda. No picking occurred. Although our political machine did not show up for the photo op, American corporations did show up to display their wares on this global billboard.
The Women’s World Cup was held last summer in the United States. It was supposed to be held in China – but with the outbreak SARS – world travel plans were changed. I still wonder if anyone in our government knows or cares that during the competition the North Korean’s were playing for honor and glory in our heartland – Columbus, Ohio to be exact. China also brought their team. Another great venue ripe for the political picking was ignored. Not stupidity – mostly out of ignorance with a smattering of arrogance.
So there is much more this Country and our military can learn from the sport of soccer. I will not belabor the commentaries that have come before this – except to say soccer is closer aligned with a revolution in military affairs in that the transformational war fighting construct that it and other sports of a continuous and free flowing nature (basketball, hockey, etc.) demonstrate is one of shared awareness and the ability to self synchronize. On the gridiron, awareness is far from shared. Viewing each facemask can assess the necessary level of awareness for each player. The more bars on the cage the less awareness necessary. And on each set play, everyone has very specific instructions. Contrast that with the requirement for everyone on the field, court, or ice to know the position of the ball or puck and the relative position and capability of player engaged in the battle. No additional coordination is necessary. If an attacker is moving down the wing his job is to cross the ball into the penalty box. It is the requirement for the striker to be aware that the run is taking place and to synchronize their own run to have their head or stick on the end of the ball or puck when the cross comes.
It is of course sheer folly to make these black and white comparisons. War is the most complex of all human endeavors. What we do know for certain about the nature of warfare is that it is an uncertain business. The fog of war permeates everything. Preparing for all strategic contingencies is resource prohibitive. Preparing for the Superbowl is a noble calling if the game is actually played. Having the flexibility to adapt to a different strategy is more important if the competition fails to enter the stadium on Superbowl Sunday – or moves the ball off the soccer field as been suggested. When that day comes let’s not get caught in the stadium alone or stacked at the line of scrimmage. A pick-up game of soccer in the parking lot may be all that we have left or a lone goalkeeper standing in the net when the ball comes back on the field. Let’s make sure we have some good all-purpose athletic shoes in the trunk of the car and the knowledge of many games – we might even have to play basketball.
Snake Ethics (a work of fiction)
Today I walked into the backyard and found our dog Molly lying still on the ground. She was barely breathing. As I drove her to the vet her heart stopped. She died before we arrived. After the vet examined her he asked if we owned a poisonous snake. He said he believed a snake bit Molly. Where did the snake come from?
This afternoon a friend pointed out that one of our neighbors has been raising snakes as a hobby for several years. I was shocked and furious. We pulled apart my back yard and found no trace of a poisonous snake so I went to see this snake-raising neighbor. The inside of his home felt more like being inside a reptile house at the zoo. He was clearly a snake fanatic. However, he was very understanding. He informed me that all his snakes were accounted for and that, as a responsible snake owner, he would never allow one of his snakes to get loose. He added that the vet was probably wrong since a snake of this type could not survive in our local climate. He didn’t know if anyone else in the neighborhood was raising snakes. He pointed out that there were indeed snake-owners who gave his good hobby a bad name. I couldn’t help but feel the hypocrisy of many a zealot echoing in his hollow words. I felt like he was lying to me.
For the past few months the relationship between the snake lover and my family has been tough. On the one hand I believe he has every right to a hobby that brings him happiness. On the other hand, he has an inherent right to the community to do so responsibly. Unfortunately, I cannot prove that one of his snakes escaped and therefore I cannot prove that he was raising snakes irresponsibly.
Last week I started talking with neighbors about my perception of what was going on in the community. Perhaps I should have thought through all of my actions but I can’t impede what has been set in motion. I was emphatic in my description of the crazy neighbor who has taken away our family dog. My crusade has been met with a variety of reactions. “I didn’t know that lunatic was raising snakes”, “This is a free country, if he wants to raise hyena’s who am I to judge or get in his way”, and “I don’t know if he is crazy, I’ve never met the man.” This issue might have dropped completely if today I had not also discovered another neighbor who’s family pet was the victim of a poisonous snake several years ago. To my shock they found the offending snake, and since it was not a species indigenous to this region, let alone the continent, there was only one place from which the snake could have originated. Unfortunately there was no proof and the snake lover had denied any responsibility or wrongdoing in that case as well.
For the past few weeks I have renewed my crusade against my neighbor. I checked city ordinances. I spoke at city council meetings. I am writing letters. I had citizens sign a petition. I am campaigning against this snake lover with zeal reserved only for the opposing factions of a holy war. Fight fanaticism with fanaticism. I am waging a global war on snake lovers. Communication between our families has come to an end. Lawsuits are threatened. Ugly glances and heated words are exchanged. I bought another dog, a large German shepherd, for my family to feel safe in our own back yard.
The situation continues to get worse. It seems we live a very stressful life side by side in this small city. Yesterday some kids from down the street took it upon themselves to throw eggs at my lunatic neighbor’s house. They don’t seem to like him – I’m not sure if they really know why. We all seem to be prisoners in our own homes. I do not condone the actions of these kids, but I couldn’t help feeling a little bit good about the egg throwing.
Despite continuous objections from civil libertarians, the City Council passed an ordinance requiring the licensing of all snake breeders within the city. Things are looking up and it seems our crusade is finally making progress. The snake lovers are being pushed out. I feel good.
Last evening a snake bit my daughter in our backyard. Today my daughter is in a coma at the city hospital. The police wasted no time obtaining a search warrant to enter my neighbor’s house. The trouble is, all his snakes are gone. Vanished. No hint that he ever raised snakes in the past, and he is denying everything but a passing fancy he had with snakes several years previous. Where did they go? Does he still have them? Did he move them? Is another neighbor now playing with snakes? These questions and my need to have them answered are stalled by my anguish and unrelenting fear that my daughter is very very sick.
I feel like ripping my neighbor’s house apart searching for clues. If he gets in the way I will hurt him. If I find a snake I will kill it. But the police have been there – I now have a faceless enemy and I do not know where he lives or where the snakes could be. I also believe my neighbor is still lying. But how do I get the truth out of him?
There is outrage on my street. How could this happen in our happy and quiet bedroom community? Support for my family has come from the entire city. We have been on the local news. Where are the snakes? The investigation is just starting to get underway. The police have little to go on. It’s almost as if the snake just materialized in the backyard. It will not last the winter most experts agree. Yet my little girl still lays in a coma.
I feel like I am at war. A war I did not start and a war I do not want to fight. How do I fight this war against the unknown? I don’t know whom to hit. I don’t know if I should hit. I just feel like staying inside to cry. My mind races through the events of the past year. Did I push too hard? Did I inadvertently make life for snake lovers in this community oppressive? Maybe these snake people are just like you and me? No way, anyone who has anything to do with raising snakes must be evil. But is my family the victim of evil or just some random event? Once we find the snake we will know.
We found the snake. It was dead. It was found beneath one of the loose bricks near another neighbor’s basement. The snake comes from Africa – it’s an Egyptian Cobra, an asp, of Cleopatra fame. No doubt this snake escaped from a breeder or was placed in our neighborhood. Placed in our neighborhood? Now we clearly have evil at work. Only the insane would release such a dangerous snake into a peaceful innocent neighborhood. Who would do such a dastardly thing? As my daughter lays in a coma I have no answers – only a swelling of anger and the support of the entire neighborhood to find those responsible. Even my more liberal neighbor seems upset based on his statement to me last evening, “I’m really sorry about your little girl. My children are terrified to go into our backyard. The freedoms that we took for granted and thought we were defending have been horribly altered and I am coming to understand that I should have backed you on this snake thing from the beginning. I know it’s late in coming but if there is anything I can do now, I most certainly will. We cannot have snakes running loose in our city – or crazy people who release them into our neighborhoods.”
Perhaps I shouldn’t have campaigned against my neighbor so hard. I am so very afraid that I backed him into a corner that I have been blaming myself. But whoever did this is not a responsible snake breeder. My neighbor might have been responsible but whoever let that snake loose is a certifiable lunatic. Our neighborhood is gripped in terror. Men walk the streets and yards of our street looking for more snakes. The neighborhood vows to rebuild our status in the city. There is talk of scandal and property value. There is sadness. But nothing outweighs the burden on my daughter as she lies in some dream state deciding if she should awaken or leave us forever.
My daughter has decided to leave us. She passed away this morning. Unbelievable pain. More than I can stand. I can’t live – I don’t know what there is to live for – I am without direction. I will kill my neighbor. I will kill anyone who gets in my way.
Why didn’t I break into his house and kill his snakes last year? Why didn’t I know more about what was going on with the snake breeders? Good people don’t do bad things is the way I want to live. But now a very bad thing has been done to me and I want remuneration, I want retribution, I want revenge. I wanted to do things right. I wanted the legal system to handle the problem. It didn’t work. And now my family is suffering. Should I take the law into my own hands? Should I continue to seek resolution through our legal system? I can’t even prove that it was my neighbor’s snake. But now we have harm, wrongful death, homicide – the rules have changed. It is not just the snake that I loathe – it is those who harbor them. For who better to understand the danger’s of a venomous snake than the snake’s owner. For that reason alone, due to their gross negligence, they are guilty murderers, the instrument of my family’s pain. I will bring down the wrath of hell upon this neighbor and his kind before anything like this can ever happen again. I did nothing.
I heard my neighbor smiled when he was told my daughter had been bitten – I heard he turned pale when he found out she died. He hasn’t talked to me – there is nothing for him to say. There was a moving van at his house today. My friends tell me he moved out and left no forwarding address. Still we grieve. Nothing can fill the emptiness in our lives. We move about the day. We go to work. Nothing seems real. We are numb. I want release from this pain. If I die he will win. Maybe he should win. Maybe he was the better man. Maybe I should have minded my own business. I bought a handgun.
The police called today. They arrested a man in town for selling dangerous reptiles without a license. They say they intend to prosecute. I don’t care. How can I care? Slowly we are rebuilding our life – the pain is great. The reminders are all too frequent. I found out where my neighbor is now living.
The police called today. They said the man they arrested has evidence in our case. The man they arrested will testify that he sold my neighbor an Egyptian Cobra. He will also testify that my neighbor told him he intended to release it through his fence to take care of my dog. It was never intended to hurt my little girl. He intended to kill the dog. They will arrest him and charge him with capital murder in the death of my precious baby. A surge of energy enveloped me. Can this be true? Did my neighbor intentionally release that snake to harm my family? My anger returned – my questions were answered. Yes I should have broken into his house. Yes I should have killed his snakes. Yes I should have run this deranged and evil man from our town. Would the law have been on my side? Unfortunately it is difficult to look into the heart of a mad man. Did I drive him to it? Perhaps – but there can never be room in a civilized society for such a course of action. He had options open to him. He has a job. He has money. He could have moved away. He could have punched me in the nose. To strike at the innocent in a cowardly fashion is unforgivable.
My neighbor was sentenced to 30 years in prison for negligent homicide. The judge said his stupidity ranks right up there with drunken drivers who kill people. His punishment should be no less severe. Our pain will be no less severe. That night my murdering neighbor took an overdose of sleeping pills and died in his cell. Although I still feel the pain and heartbreak a threat and a menace to society has been removed. We must not act out of anger or revenge. But we must act. We must act with much thought and cannot expect to be held blameless. Those who cannot live in society and play by its rules must be removed. Removal from society must come about as a function of the whole society - not strictly by those seeking revenge or being owed retribution. This is the cost of our freedom. If we don’t pay these costs we will never truly be free.
This afternoon a friend pointed out that one of our neighbors has been raising snakes as a hobby for several years. I was shocked and furious. We pulled apart my back yard and found no trace of a poisonous snake so I went to see this snake-raising neighbor. The inside of his home felt more like being inside a reptile house at the zoo. He was clearly a snake fanatic. However, he was very understanding. He informed me that all his snakes were accounted for and that, as a responsible snake owner, he would never allow one of his snakes to get loose. He added that the vet was probably wrong since a snake of this type could not survive in our local climate. He didn’t know if anyone else in the neighborhood was raising snakes. He pointed out that there were indeed snake-owners who gave his good hobby a bad name. I couldn’t help but feel the hypocrisy of many a zealot echoing in his hollow words. I felt like he was lying to me.
For the past few months the relationship between the snake lover and my family has been tough. On the one hand I believe he has every right to a hobby that brings him happiness. On the other hand, he has an inherent right to the community to do so responsibly. Unfortunately, I cannot prove that one of his snakes escaped and therefore I cannot prove that he was raising snakes irresponsibly.
Last week I started talking with neighbors about my perception of what was going on in the community. Perhaps I should have thought through all of my actions but I can’t impede what has been set in motion. I was emphatic in my description of the crazy neighbor who has taken away our family dog. My crusade has been met with a variety of reactions. “I didn’t know that lunatic was raising snakes”, “This is a free country, if he wants to raise hyena’s who am I to judge or get in his way”, and “I don’t know if he is crazy, I’ve never met the man.” This issue might have dropped completely if today I had not also discovered another neighbor who’s family pet was the victim of a poisonous snake several years ago. To my shock they found the offending snake, and since it was not a species indigenous to this region, let alone the continent, there was only one place from which the snake could have originated. Unfortunately there was no proof and the snake lover had denied any responsibility or wrongdoing in that case as well.
For the past few weeks I have renewed my crusade against my neighbor. I checked city ordinances. I spoke at city council meetings. I am writing letters. I had citizens sign a petition. I am campaigning against this snake lover with zeal reserved only for the opposing factions of a holy war. Fight fanaticism with fanaticism. I am waging a global war on snake lovers. Communication between our families has come to an end. Lawsuits are threatened. Ugly glances and heated words are exchanged. I bought another dog, a large German shepherd, for my family to feel safe in our own back yard.
The situation continues to get worse. It seems we live a very stressful life side by side in this small city. Yesterday some kids from down the street took it upon themselves to throw eggs at my lunatic neighbor’s house. They don’t seem to like him – I’m not sure if they really know why. We all seem to be prisoners in our own homes. I do not condone the actions of these kids, but I couldn’t help feeling a little bit good about the egg throwing.
Despite continuous objections from civil libertarians, the City Council passed an ordinance requiring the licensing of all snake breeders within the city. Things are looking up and it seems our crusade is finally making progress. The snake lovers are being pushed out. I feel good.
Last evening a snake bit my daughter in our backyard. Today my daughter is in a coma at the city hospital. The police wasted no time obtaining a search warrant to enter my neighbor’s house. The trouble is, all his snakes are gone. Vanished. No hint that he ever raised snakes in the past, and he is denying everything but a passing fancy he had with snakes several years previous. Where did they go? Does he still have them? Did he move them? Is another neighbor now playing with snakes? These questions and my need to have them answered are stalled by my anguish and unrelenting fear that my daughter is very very sick.
I feel like ripping my neighbor’s house apart searching for clues. If he gets in the way I will hurt him. If I find a snake I will kill it. But the police have been there – I now have a faceless enemy and I do not know where he lives or where the snakes could be. I also believe my neighbor is still lying. But how do I get the truth out of him?
There is outrage on my street. How could this happen in our happy and quiet bedroom community? Support for my family has come from the entire city. We have been on the local news. Where are the snakes? The investigation is just starting to get underway. The police have little to go on. It’s almost as if the snake just materialized in the backyard. It will not last the winter most experts agree. Yet my little girl still lays in a coma.
I feel like I am at war. A war I did not start and a war I do not want to fight. How do I fight this war against the unknown? I don’t know whom to hit. I don’t know if I should hit. I just feel like staying inside to cry. My mind races through the events of the past year. Did I push too hard? Did I inadvertently make life for snake lovers in this community oppressive? Maybe these snake people are just like you and me? No way, anyone who has anything to do with raising snakes must be evil. But is my family the victim of evil or just some random event? Once we find the snake we will know.
We found the snake. It was dead. It was found beneath one of the loose bricks near another neighbor’s basement. The snake comes from Africa – it’s an Egyptian Cobra, an asp, of Cleopatra fame. No doubt this snake escaped from a breeder or was placed in our neighborhood. Placed in our neighborhood? Now we clearly have evil at work. Only the insane would release such a dangerous snake into a peaceful innocent neighborhood. Who would do such a dastardly thing? As my daughter lays in a coma I have no answers – only a swelling of anger and the support of the entire neighborhood to find those responsible. Even my more liberal neighbor seems upset based on his statement to me last evening, “I’m really sorry about your little girl. My children are terrified to go into our backyard. The freedoms that we took for granted and thought we were defending have been horribly altered and I am coming to understand that I should have backed you on this snake thing from the beginning. I know it’s late in coming but if there is anything I can do now, I most certainly will. We cannot have snakes running loose in our city – or crazy people who release them into our neighborhoods.”
Perhaps I shouldn’t have campaigned against my neighbor so hard. I am so very afraid that I backed him into a corner that I have been blaming myself. But whoever did this is not a responsible snake breeder. My neighbor might have been responsible but whoever let that snake loose is a certifiable lunatic. Our neighborhood is gripped in terror. Men walk the streets and yards of our street looking for more snakes. The neighborhood vows to rebuild our status in the city. There is talk of scandal and property value. There is sadness. But nothing outweighs the burden on my daughter as she lies in some dream state deciding if she should awaken or leave us forever.
My daughter has decided to leave us. She passed away this morning. Unbelievable pain. More than I can stand. I can’t live – I don’t know what there is to live for – I am without direction. I will kill my neighbor. I will kill anyone who gets in my way.
Why didn’t I break into his house and kill his snakes last year? Why didn’t I know more about what was going on with the snake breeders? Good people don’t do bad things is the way I want to live. But now a very bad thing has been done to me and I want remuneration, I want retribution, I want revenge. I wanted to do things right. I wanted the legal system to handle the problem. It didn’t work. And now my family is suffering. Should I take the law into my own hands? Should I continue to seek resolution through our legal system? I can’t even prove that it was my neighbor’s snake. But now we have harm, wrongful death, homicide – the rules have changed. It is not just the snake that I loathe – it is those who harbor them. For who better to understand the danger’s of a venomous snake than the snake’s owner. For that reason alone, due to their gross negligence, they are guilty murderers, the instrument of my family’s pain. I will bring down the wrath of hell upon this neighbor and his kind before anything like this can ever happen again. I did nothing.
I heard my neighbor smiled when he was told my daughter had been bitten – I heard he turned pale when he found out she died. He hasn’t talked to me – there is nothing for him to say. There was a moving van at his house today. My friends tell me he moved out and left no forwarding address. Still we grieve. Nothing can fill the emptiness in our lives. We move about the day. We go to work. Nothing seems real. We are numb. I want release from this pain. If I die he will win. Maybe he should win. Maybe he was the better man. Maybe I should have minded my own business. I bought a handgun.
The police called today. They arrested a man in town for selling dangerous reptiles without a license. They say they intend to prosecute. I don’t care. How can I care? Slowly we are rebuilding our life – the pain is great. The reminders are all too frequent. I found out where my neighbor is now living.
The police called today. They said the man they arrested has evidence in our case. The man they arrested will testify that he sold my neighbor an Egyptian Cobra. He will also testify that my neighbor told him he intended to release it through his fence to take care of my dog. It was never intended to hurt my little girl. He intended to kill the dog. They will arrest him and charge him with capital murder in the death of my precious baby. A surge of energy enveloped me. Can this be true? Did my neighbor intentionally release that snake to harm my family? My anger returned – my questions were answered. Yes I should have broken into his house. Yes I should have killed his snakes. Yes I should have run this deranged and evil man from our town. Would the law have been on my side? Unfortunately it is difficult to look into the heart of a mad man. Did I drive him to it? Perhaps – but there can never be room in a civilized society for such a course of action. He had options open to him. He has a job. He has money. He could have moved away. He could have punched me in the nose. To strike at the innocent in a cowardly fashion is unforgivable.
My neighbor was sentenced to 30 years in prison for negligent homicide. The judge said his stupidity ranks right up there with drunken drivers who kill people. His punishment should be no less severe. Our pain will be no less severe. That night my murdering neighbor took an overdose of sleeping pills and died in his cell. Although I still feel the pain and heartbreak a threat and a menace to society has been removed. We must not act out of anger or revenge. But we must act. We must act with much thought and cannot expect to be held blameless. Those who cannot live in society and play by its rules must be removed. Removal from society must come about as a function of the whole society - not strictly by those seeking revenge or being owed retribution. This is the cost of our freedom. If we don’t pay these costs we will never truly be free.
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