Recently, it came to my attention I had not written a Dolphinshout article in a while. I could hardly beleaguer the point; it was two months ago… I quickly reverted to self-analysis – Has some imbalance in the force affected my give-a-crap about the Dolphins and sports in general? Am I getting old? Is this what happens when you get old?
How had I come to the realization, spending emotions on something completely out of my control is simply wasted energy? I reached into my gut hoping for a sign I really cared... Was the Mojo lost, the spirit gone? How did I suddenly realize the metaphysics of transferring a critical spark to my team at the decisive moment was impossible?
Once, I believed I could will a first down… Once, I could anticipate a perfect pass spiraling down into the soft hands of a wide-open receiver. Once, I beat tribal rhythms on the back of orange seats joined by a crescendo of cheers raining down on a triumphant sideline.
It was simpler then, the price was manageable. The distractions were fewer with less obvious ways to siphon the meager salary from my pocket into the coffers of the filthy rich. “They” tell me the dollars shouldn’t matter because the money would not be there if people were unwilling to pay. I’m not sure who “they” are, but I can sense “they” are living better than I.
I’m expected to finance stadiums under the guise I am actually helping the community. Maybe it's not age, maybe I’m just seeing past emotion. Maybe emotion is the exploited weakness that made me blind to the reality of my folly.
“The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat,” those words still ring in my head when I envision the ski jumper plummeting off the ramp. It never really occurred to me I was being conditioned, my emotions led into a perception where someone else’s victory could replace my own. Where, someone else’s defeat could ruin an otherwise sunny day.
I stopped dreaming. I stopped believing I could attain something grand in my own life and started living vicariously through the lives of others who had truly succeeded. I’d given up; sought refuge behind a curtain of fantasy living off the achievements of others.
I decided, not only would I never be any of the things I dreamed of as a child, but I was also willing to pay someone else handsomely to live my dreams. When my body and mind were young enough to envision the dream a reality, I became a Dolphin fan. The day I understood those dreams were past my reality, the players became characters in a fantasy I could pay to cheer, but never participate.
Then a strange thing happened, I started writing for this little blog named Dolphinshout and it resurrected the ability to dream… The legs no longer run fast, body parts sometimes don’t function without pain, and yet the mind is still growing. The mind is able to put these words together for the enjoyment of others and maybe there are more challenges ahead.
Perhaps dreams of the past were only ever that, dreams…
Perhaps in the past my expectations never hovered on the brink of reality. I would never sniff the NFL as a player. I would never even make it to college as a player and so I set myself to the grindstone of thinking work would always be drudgery. I could find solace only in being able to wrestle hope from opposing fans who cheered for teams they somehow fell into pledging allegiance to.
Writing at Dolphinshout opened my eyes to the thought I could still be good at something, success in life was not over. Little did I know it wielded a double-edged sword…
The horizon of accomplishment brought the realization I could be more successful if I wasted less time cheering the victories of others.
I was wasting my time and emotion on someone else’s dream, making them rich while I squandered the precious moments of my life. I have no contempt for their riches; I only lament my own futility in bringing about their fortune. I had forgone greatness and used them to mask my displeasure, blinding myself to the avenues of prosperity.
So where does it leave me? One should never forsake a childhood team even if the reality of a business gouging my allegiance comes crashing down like a boulder upon my enlightened head. My wish is for the good fortune of the folks at Dolphinshout. My wish is, they see clear of whatever is holding them back from waking each morning with a smile.
We should not be foolish enough to buy stadiums for the filthy rich. A beer that costs twenty-five cents should never be sold for eight dollars. Tickets to a game where eighty percent of the revenue comes from outside the stadium should be a giveaway.
Every stadium in the NFL should have a waiting list of fans attending at a minimal cost to experience the sanctuary where they live vicariously through the lives of their heroes.
Heroes do not gouge. Heroes are not greedy. Heroes have gaps in a smile that fools fill with gold. Heroes are humbled by adoration…
I will always be a Dolphin fan. I only hope one day the heroes return…