So far I don’t really planned each post I write. I get out of bed just before dawn, make Sal a cup of tea and head off for a 15 minutes drive which includes getting a medium size, skim milk extra hot cappuccino at the drive thru. As I drive and sip my coffee I listen to one of three daily news podcasts along the way. 7am, Full Story or The Signal. Once 6am rolls around I mostly tune in to the wonderful Fran Kelly on Radio Nationals RN Breakfast .
By the time I get home, coffee finished and morning news fix complete the days post subject has usually emerged through fog. I guess I’m saying I try not to think of something to write about but rather let subject or story choose itself. I think the years of personal journaling is probably behind this approach, allowing the subconscious to become conscious seems to be a helpful process for me.
Today the thing that emerged was the one and only goal I ever kicked when I played football on the school team in grade 6.
RD
I always enjoyed sport but as for most things I didn’t feel very confident and often didn’t know the rules or the responsibilities of whatever position I was told to play. Australian Rules footy is a vey physical game and uses players of all sizes, little players were the scrappy types, getting hold of the ball, moving fast and generally annoying the players on the apposing team. I was always the tallest person in my year so I was given the position of Centre. The only job I had was to be the player who had to jump and hit the ball to someone on my team whenever there was a ‘jump ball’ or Ruck as it’s called in AFL.
I was never very good at it I think because I wasn’t aggressive enough but it’s primary school footy so no-ones that good.
This particular game was being played at our home ground at the school. It was also being played during school time which was a bonus because it meant a few hours out of the classroom! The not so good side was it also meant students from our school were permitted to come down and watch some of the game and the idea of my peers watching was a particularly uncomfortable thought.
I don’t know the psychology of it all but generally I’ve learned that most people move through life with a kind of emotional posture based on their foundational Self Picture. In my simple way of understanding things I think it works like this. I have life experiences that begin from birth and continue through to death. The early experiences, roughly up until we’re about 7 years old seem to be foundational providing a framework of sorts and from there on most other experiences are kind of filtered through that framework. If an experience is constant with that framework it reinforces it but if an experience ‘disagrees’ with that framework it’s normal that rather than updating the framework or Self Picture we sort of ignore that new information and carry on with seeing the world through our ever outdated and often inaccurate framework.
This is why I believe honest refection on my early years is one key to my Redemption. Otherwise I will tend to reject any new information that may well be life changing and could clear the way for the final chapter of my life to unfold.
RD
The football game was nearing the end and our team was a few points behind, another loss seemed to be inevitable. Right then, just in the moment when the familiar acceptance of another school team loss, the ball somehow landed in my arms and in spite what all my experience would tell me, I held on to the ball for what’s known in AFL as a ‘Mark’. If the ball is kicked and doesn’t touch another player or the ground and it caught by any player it’s called a mark and you get a few seconds to look around and kick the ball to anther team member without being tackled by the opposition. It’s the first and only memory I have of ever taking a mark in a game so that alone was a shock and something that makes me feel good even now.
As it happened I took that mark while standing in range of the goal posts which meant if I successfully kicked the ball through those goal posts we would in all likelihood go on to win the game!
Just for a moment put yourself in the shoes of an 11 year old boy. A boy who had more than enough emotional shrapnel wizzing around inside of him on an ordinary day. Add to that the not uncommon feeling fear of letting people down many have at the age and just to top it off, I wasn’t a very accurate kick at the best of times and I was right on the limit of how far I could kick and 90,000 spectators from the school were watching. Ok it was about 30 staff and students but giving everything else it had the effect of a full house at the hallowed home of AFL, the MCG.
So there I was, football in hands, slowly stepping backwards to get a run up. Once back far enough I held the ball, looked down then up, then down and up again and began my approach.
Before going any further I need to add a bit of technical information. In AFL there are two basic kinds of kick, they are a ‘Punt’ and a ‘Torpedo’. These days a lot of teams only permit their payers to use the Punt kick because it’s the most reliable and accurate. A Punt done well tumbles end over end and while a little limited in distance it is by far the choice of champions.
A Torpedo or Spiral kick in comparison is incredibly unreliable, less accurate and again these days banned by some coaches. A Torpedo is not a kick to use when anything other than distance is required. That said, a big Torpedo kick is, in the footy world a sight to see. They are high flying and spiral though the air just as the name suggests. AFL legends of the game have been know to kick a Torpedo 80+ metres and crowds absolute love them.
Anyway, as my running speed increased ready to kick, I hadn’t decided which kind of kick I was going to use and to be honest to wouldn’t matter if I did because I didn’t actually have the skills to deliberately do either. My run up was complete, the ball made contact with my boot and that football, right before the whistle for the end of the game took the form of a perfect a Spiralling Torpedo I’d ever kicked.
You should have seen everybody staring at the ball as it cut through the air towards the goals. It felt like it flew for ever and to my utter amazement it sailed through the centre scoring the winning goal and earning me the cheers and back patting one sees in sports when a player scores.
It’s hard to explain what it feels like to remember that day but the best way I have of saying it here is that I felt my emotional fuel tank, usually running on empty had been filled up. The next stay at the school assembly the school principle spoke of this goal, singled me out and asked me to stand up. There were others mentioned and they also stood up but it might as well have been just me standing there in front of the whole school being clapped loudly as though I’d achieved the Nobel Prize for football. .
How far that was from the pants wetting episode in grade three where a teacher saw fit to also single me out, make me stand in front of the class and intentionally or not, humiliating that 8 year old.
There are many tings I learn from reflecting on these stories including the power of childhood experience in shaping my way of seeing myself. It also tells me the stories I often let influence me the most are not the ‘goal kicking’ stories that fill me up. Sadly the stories of shame, embarrassment and humiliation seem to have the most influence, at least they do for me anyway.
It’s just occurred to me, even as I type that it’s all the stories, the ones that fill me up and the ones that leave me empty are all needed to understand how my Redemption will proceed. They are like the tidal waters that flow in and out of a big river where, and I find this particularly hopeful, a person can catch fish while the tide is coming in and while it’s going out. It reminds me that even the worst of my memories might help breath life into this old fella. Tides come in and go out and trying to stop that process may not be the most effective way to live. I think what I’ve learned today is the work I’m doing now, the effort to allow the ‘tidal memories’ to flow in and flow out is helping me learn about how those tides work, it’s beginning to give me the information I need, the knowledge of my own emotional tidal flow and that while some days that tide can seem very low and slow to turn, the fact is, at least for me, the tide will turn and I’ll once again feel all filled up, not forever, maybe only for a day but it will happen.
I don’t have to be afraid of the lows and only try to focus on the highs, in fact I’m finding by welcoming both something new is beginning to happen in me. Not sure what it is yet but that’s ok for now.
RD