I made some choices recently that have forced me to really take some time and evaluate what I plan on doing with my life. It’s been weird crumpling up huge projects and plans that have become part of my identity, things I’d been working on for close to three years, and tossing them into the waste basket. All I knew for certain was that what I had been doing was not the type of work I’d like to do for the rest of my life. Now I’m looking at a blank slate.
I’m pretty much making this up as I go. I’m twenty-two-years-old and I’m trying to learn about the things I like and want. It’s a little scary especially with so many people close to me shaking their heads at the decisions I’ve made.
During the course of this period of self exploration, I read something interesting that I think is interesting in the sports context. It will take some easing into though.
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Think about the people you envy.
When we’re young and immature it’s usually actors or musicians or athletes. What about their lives is so desirable? Well, they’re usually attractive or famous or both. It seems ridiculous now to pursue that life based on our desire to call ourselves famous or attractive, but that’s the logic that was once used to support our dreams.
Now consider your neighbor the physician or the commercial litigator who coached your hockey team. What, if anything, did you envy about these people? Their careers are within reason to achieve. Where does the envy come from in this instance? It seems like the professionals in those industries have more money and prestige than most.
The point I’m trying to make is that if you take strides to build a career based on what you envy, you’ll never be satisfied. It’s not the skin on the orange that satisfies; it’s the fruit beneath it. So peel that shit off and enjoy. But it takes a little work.
When you do that, you’ll realize you don’t really want prestige; you want to work in an intellectually stimulating environment. You don’t really want money; you want freedom and to not waste time cutting your grass or painting your basement or washing your dishes by hand.
My favorite line in the oft-quoted Fight Club is when Tyler Durden says, "It’s only after you’ve lost everything, that you’re free to do anything." You could interpret that in a lot of different ways, but what I like to think Palahniuk was trying to say here is that once your expectations are broken and your dependencies severed, all that’s left is a blank slate. There’s clarity in a truly blank slate. It’s liberating but they only happen in special circumstances. When they present themselves, you get a rare opportunity to genuinely answer some powerful questions. What do you really want? What do you really love? What holds your attention and why?
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When I think about hockey, the Sabres are the most important entity that exists for me in that world. I could probably love hockey without them. But they exist as one and always will, except for unique situations like the last two weeks. The Olympics provided hockey without longstanding rivalries and without the normal personas and paradigms. And I had absolutely no expectations for the team who had my rooting interest. Olympic hockey gave me a little clarity because it was a blank slate of sorts.
If you asked people what their greatest desire as a Sabres fan would be, 101% of them would say a championship. In sports, championships are how we equate success. It’s the pinnacle of sports fandom and because Sabres fans have never experienced one before, we itch and scratch like a crack-head in need of a fix.
But now that we’ve had some clarity, are we sure that championships are still all that ultimately matters? Is that all we want? What about the game of hockey? The tension, the drama, the nuances, the joy of seeing a team rise to unexpected levels of success, the journey, there’s something to say of all that too. The championships are the payouts and the hope that someday soon we can call our team a champion is important but if that’s all you’re in it for, you’re going to get bored quickly. I want one more than words can explain but I find pleasure in other places too.
Look at this post Ryan wrote today. Look how much he cares. No one will cheer louder for a championship than people like him but even without one, even in a deciding game where the team he supported lost, look how favorable he recalls the experience.
For some people, championships are the only thing that matters. They start paying attention only when the potential for a championship is at its highest. That’s explains what has happened in Pittsburgh the last six or seven years.
The sports fans of Buffalo care more about hockey than in any other place in this country. If I could, I’d ask them all what about hockey causes them to keep coming back. Is it just the hope for a championship? Or is it something else – something inherent about the game? Now would be a great time to take a minute and reflect on what keeps you coming back to hockey.