Scott Gill's Blog - Posts Tagged "ndamukong-suh"
Why Ndamukong Suh Should Read Hemingway (A lesson from The Old Man and the Sea)
While dozens watched, cheered, and coached, I cranked the shark close enough for the gaffer. With occasional nibbles all week and two hooked Bonita snapping my lines, I doubted victory. Empty and exhausted, the patting hands weighed on my shoulders, the congratulations, and cameras clicked. It was my moment, my most vivid childhood memory, and one that an unlikely nine year old could have done alone.
But not so for old Santiago.
He was alone, gripping a line that pulled steadily down and out to sea. The Old Man and the Sea is a tale of an unlikely hero, an old fisherman who is washed up, unlucky to the level of cursed. The kid that assists him is even forbidden by his parents for fear the curse will spread. After 84 days of “skunked”, Santiago rows his nearly empty skiff out and hooks the monster. With little water and scant equipment, the old man faces impossible odds against a giant marlin.
It is an epic hero story, one that has been told and retold in almost every culture of the world, but something is different about Santiago. He’s a humble hero; respects his opponent, even praising the beauty of the fish, apologizing for his inability to measure up. He is otherworldly. Simply, Santiago is noble, and sadly, most of our modern heroes are completely void of the quality.
Dwayne Wade barked and fumed at his coach on national TV last week after his own horrific performance against the Indiana Pacers. Earlier, during this year’s NFL season, defensive lineman, Ndamukong Suh, slammed a tackled ball carrier’s face to the ground and finished him off with a kick. Both of these men fill a role in our sports driven society of hero and model. They may not have asked for the position and may have warned kids against it, but they are regardless.
American kids love their sports stars and they mimic these men (I would bat like George Brett in the mirror daily). As a coach of middle schoolers, I hear boys laud the actions of these child-men, hear them brag about being tossed from games because of fighting with opposing players or even referees (and these are the “good” kids). Nobility is rare in sport, in competition, especially the brand imagined while reading Hemingway’s great tale, and when Santiago-esque nobility does surface, the press seems to downplay it as an act or ignore it altogether.
Yet, the epic story of the noble hero continues to be told which suggests that something in humanity longs for such ideals. The humble, unlikely fellow facing impossible odds and persevering, nearly losing his life in the process, and somehow overcoming, that is what we thirst and our throats are quite quenched by Hemingway’s hapless hero.
But not so for old Santiago.
He was alone, gripping a line that pulled steadily down and out to sea. The Old Man and the Sea is a tale of an unlikely hero, an old fisherman who is washed up, unlucky to the level of cursed. The kid that assists him is even forbidden by his parents for fear the curse will spread. After 84 days of “skunked”, Santiago rows his nearly empty skiff out and hooks the monster. With little water and scant equipment, the old man faces impossible odds against a giant marlin.
It is an epic hero story, one that has been told and retold in almost every culture of the world, but something is different about Santiago. He’s a humble hero; respects his opponent, even praising the beauty of the fish, apologizing for his inability to measure up. He is otherworldly. Simply, Santiago is noble, and sadly, most of our modern heroes are completely void of the quality.
Dwayne Wade barked and fumed at his coach on national TV last week after his own horrific performance against the Indiana Pacers. Earlier, during this year’s NFL season, defensive lineman, Ndamukong Suh, slammed a tackled ball carrier’s face to the ground and finished him off with a kick. Both of these men fill a role in our sports driven society of hero and model. They may not have asked for the position and may have warned kids against it, but they are regardless.
American kids love their sports stars and they mimic these men (I would bat like George Brett in the mirror daily). As a coach of middle schoolers, I hear boys laud the actions of these child-men, hear them brag about being tossed from games because of fighting with opposing players or even referees (and these are the “good” kids). Nobility is rare in sport, in competition, especially the brand imagined while reading Hemingway’s great tale, and when Santiago-esque nobility does surface, the press seems to downplay it as an act or ignore it altogether.
Yet, the epic story of the noble hero continues to be told which suggests that something in humanity longs for such ideals. The humble, unlikely fellow facing impossible odds and persevering, nearly losing his life in the process, and somehow overcoming, that is what we thirst and our throats are quite quenched by Hemingway’s hapless hero.
