Big Balls

At my soccer team's New Year's party a few years back, Vasily stood up to make a toast: "When men are in their teens and twenties, they play soccer. When they are in their thirties and forties, they play tennis. When they are in their sixties, they play golf. The older they get, the smaller their balls. I'm happy to say that all of us still have large balls."

I interrupted our Moldovan captain: "Vasily, I have some sad news for all of you . . . And this is difficult for me to say, but I'm afraid I won't be playing soccer anymore."

"No!"

"From next week," I said, "I'll be playing basketball, instead." 

God is Catholic

A few years back, I was watching the penalty shoot out between Greece and Costa Rica and found it amusing to see members from both teams praying—praying to the very same Christian God, mind you—in the hope that He was supporting their team rather than the other guys and would guide them to victory. 

Indeed, one of the first things Costa Rica's Navas did after he successfully blocked the third penalty kick was to point towards Heaven and say, "Gracias!"

While 97% of Greek citizens identify themselves as Eastern Orthodox Christians—79% of them saying that they "believe there is a God" and another 15.8% describing themselves as "very religious", the highest figure among all European countries—a nationwide survey of religion in Costa Rica found that 70.5% of "Ticos" are Roman Catholics, 44.9% of whom are practicing.

Clearly this says something about the nature of God that has been in dispute since the Great Schism, the medieval division of Chalcedonian Christianity into Eastern (Greek) and Western (Latin) branches one thousand years ago. Namely, that God is, beyond a doubt, Roman Catholic.

(That is, unless those heathen Dutch win the whole shebang.)

All or Nothing

Been thinking about attrition rates in karate recently. My elder son went to Kumamoto for a friendly soccer match early this morning. Every time I go to his practice, it seems the number of kids on the field has been getting bigger and bigger. Meanwhile, although the number of kids at the dōjō has increased, every year there are fewer and fewer of the older kids. And it's not just our dōjō. At last week's tournament, for instance, there were 27 third graders among the boys, 20 fifth graders, 11 seventh graders (中1), and only 2 thirteenth graders (中３).

I think there are a number of reasons for this, not least of which is that it ain't fun getting punched and kicked in the head on a regular basis. The biggest factor, though, has to be the all-or-nothing, total commitment mentality to your chosen hobby here. The notion of a season for a sport doesn't quite translate.

When I was a kid in the States, I played baseball in the summer, soccer in the fall, basketball and skiing in the winter, and track and field in the spring. Each season was just long enough to help you improve your skill, but short enough to keep you from burning out. If you wanted to take a break from sports for one season, there was no penalty. Thanks to that, a healthy active kid can continue playing the sports he likes all the way from elementary school through high school.

Here, it's the opposite: you join a soccer team or swim team or whatever and you do it all year long. If you are bumped up into a higher class, like my sons with karate, then you are doing it two, three, four, even five times a week all year long.

My wife and I used to have arguments about this. She'd get upset that our boys weren't doing better in tournaments or weren't focusing during practice. I would counter, "They're only five and eight. There's no hurry. Let them enjoy it and later on they can take it more seriously. I mean think about it: nobody is going to be impressed by a twenty-something-year-old who boasts: 'I was a karate baddass when I was seven years old!' It won't matter in the end. Continuing, however, will."

I wasn't very convincing, I'm afraid, but she eventually gave in and let them practice at their own pace which is twice a week rather than fourth. More before a tournament.

The other day, my wife and I were talking about what our sons will do when they start junior high school. She said she was thinking of letting them quit karate. Again, I said, "Why does it have to be all or fucking nothing all the time? I want them to continue. They don't need to go to the dōjō five times a week, but they should try to go at least twice a month to blow off steam. Jump into a tournament every few months where all they have to do is win one bout to bring home a trophy because everyone else has quit and there's no competition."

It was like an epiphany. "Oh, I hadn't considered that option."

So, my elder son is contemplating joining kendo when he enters junior high. I guess it looks like Star Wars to him. I'm hoping he'll try to stick to a team sport, like his soccer, so that he can have a good cadre of friends throughout his junior high school years.