Tag: Literature

Nobel FC: TS Eliot

Nobel FC: TS Eliot

by scruffyrube ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Author’s note: So, a couple things. First, I said Eliot won the Nobel in 1943…he didn’t, nor did anyone else–it was cancelled due to the second World War. He won in 1948, which (secondly) has absolutely no connection to anything in my 20 year time frame for this project. So (thirdly) consider this just a random writing about an author, and we’ll let that be a problem for future Me, assuming that we’re still doing this in 5 years. And finally, I’m sorry that I misnumbered WB Yeats as a #3 (Left Back) when he’s more accurately numbered as a #4 (Centerback), the prior entry has been corrected to reflect this.

Background

Thomas Stearns Eliot won the Nobel Prize in literature for his poetry and drama in 1943. In its citation, the committee simply asserted that they wished to honor “his outstanding, pioneer contribution to present-day poetry”.

Eliot was part of that lost generation of writers, with big ideals and high hopes who found themselves resettled in Europe as adults, disenchanted with America’s failings. Like others, Eliot had come from a fairly well to do stock, enjoyed a rich education and built much of his work by alluding to and building on other well known works but in a rather startling method of slamming works together and building thematic meaning from the various images that emerge from it.

Works

From: “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”

There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of toast and tea

–1915
From the film adaptation of Murder in the Cathedral

From: “Murder in the Cathedral”

Yes! men must manoeuvre. Monarchs also,
Waging war abroad, need fast friends at home.
Private policy is public profit.
Dignity shall be dressed with decorum.

–1935

Your Opinion

I can’t always do it, but when it works out, I’ll share writings from our laureate. Eliot’s has an only moderately mature collection of poems titled Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats. When we found a copy illustrated by Axel Schaeffer (the man behind drawings in beloved picture books The Gruffalo and Room on the Broom), it was clear that there was an opening to try it out with you.

The results: Alex: “It’s funny and good, and also I’m all done.” Owen. “No! Not that”

Message

There’s a lot lying within Eliot (including the ability to be both good and not at all enjoyable at once). There’s beautiful aching, and bitter realizing. There’s a subtle appreciation of the past and a slam-bang-crash of the uncertain future. There’s a willingness to see both sides of the coin, the arguments for and against and the awareness of complexity in all things. To put it in as direct a way as I can think of: all that is beautiful rises from and ends in destruction.

Position: #6

With a view that bleak, and a style that multi-faceted, Eliot seems to me well suited to a role in the middle of the field where he can both create art and cause chaos. There’s a position like that in modern soccer, one that is often mocked as dirty work or unpleasant, but also does something that no one else on the field does in the same way. It’s the defensive midfielder role, and while I certainly think that Eliot was much too cerebral to be an out and out beast, he certainly could keep up with a high level of play and obtain the respect that he clearly deserves. It calls to mind a player like Ozzie Alonso, who spent his time in Minnesota altering the level of play while never reaching a heroic ideal.

What do you think? Is Eliot more of an eight? Have I totally whiffed on my attempted analysis? Leave a comment below…please.

Next Time: 1963 Honoree–Giorgios Seferis

Nobel FC: WB Yeats

Nobel FC: WB Yeats

by scruffyrube ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Background

William Butler Yeats won the Nobel Prize in literature for his poetry in 1923. The committee noted “his always inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation”. The nation in question was Ireland, but the from and expression in question is something else.

Yeats was a part of an artistic family and carried on the family business quickly. He adopted the style of the time in his early years. He celebrated all things artistic, beautiful, and emotional while studying and employing references to otherworldly and the occult. As he aged, and as the country around him became a hotbed, first for revolution and then sectarian violence, he left behind some of the more philosophical studies and became more physical and combative, but remained just as artistic.

Works

Renoir’s The Umbrella’s (whose Irish owner partly inspired “To a friend…”)

To a friend whose work has come to nothing

NOW all the truth is out,
Be secret and take defeat
From any brazen throat,
For how can you compete,
Being honour bred, with one
Who, were it proved he lies,
Were neither shamed in his own
Nor in his neighbours’ eyes?
Bred to a harder thing
Than Triumph, turn away
And like a laughing string
Whereon mad fingers play
Amid a place of stone,
Be secret and exult,
Because of all things known
That is most difficult.

–1913
Jacob Wrestling with an Angel (by Gustave Dore)

The Four Ages of Man

He with body waged a fight,
But body won; it walks upright.

Then he struggled with the heart;
Innocence and peace depart.

Then he struggled with the mind;
His proud heart he left behind.

Now his wars on God begin;
At stroke of midnight God shall win.

–1934

Message

In poetry, every work deserves to be judged on its own accord and its own merits. No poet adopts a single perspective or message, but their style often evokes a common trend. So it is with Yeats.

These works do a very good job of capturing the idea that one must be ever ready. It’s an aggressive defensiveness, and a robust reaction to the challenges of life. You should expect to face difficulty, and you should prepare to fight through it.

Position: #4

Yeats strikes me as a center back, but not your typical stout and serious center back. He’s more overeager, like someone who played striker as a kid, but kept being moved back on the pitch as they grew older. Now their job is to stop attacks, but they still yearn to be set loose at the spear of the attack. As time goes on he grows more blunt and aggressive than before. In short he’s both more physical than he needs to be and a little more confident in attack than he ought to be. It makes him a dangerous defender (both to the opponent and to his own side).

What do you think? Should Yeats end up somewhere else on the field? Did I critically misunderstand his style? Leave a comment below.

Next Time: 1943 Honoree TS Eliot

Nobel FC: Introduction

Nobel FC: Introduction

by scruffyrube ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

It is my habit to take on foolish and ill advised ideas blending things I love. It’s why there’s a collage of Economist covers in my classroom, and why I use my old baseball card collection as bookmarks.

That’s my way of introducing a new and extremely niche idea of sharing lessons that connect classic literature to football and football to classic literature.

Here’s how it will work: I’ll read some of the works of a writer who has won the Nobel Prize in Literature (it may seem arbitrary, but it’s a short hand of world-wide writers who inspire people the same way soccer stars can).

We’ll meet the writer and see what connection–if any–they have to soccer

We’ll look at one or two of their famous pieces and write a bit about their lessons and themes.

We’ll connect the themes from the work to our lives and to the things we’ve been seeing on the pitch.

And finally we’ll slot the writer into a spot on the pitch 1-Goalkeeper to 11-Striker to create a silly little team (possibly even with photoshop if I can figure it out). Hopefully we’ll see enough to create a full squad (maybe more given the long history of the award).

For now I’m just aiming to do this six times a year (writing about the winners 100, 80, 60, 40, and 20 years ago, as well as this year’s honoree when they are announced in October). If time allows I’ll work on the ones from before 100 years ago, but I’m trying to do a lot of writing and reading, so let’s just settle down our expectations eh?

I’ll drop our first installment on the first of March.

45. On Pain and Going Home

45. On Pain and Going Home

by scruffyrube ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Dear Boys,

If you boys end up sports fans, especially sports fans like me, you are going to have some hard defeats to swallow. The Vikings Wide Right? Sid Bream scoring from first on Barry Bonds? Basically any Yankees-Twins game?

But more than almost any other, when I think about the hardest losses, I think back to a match I watched on a warm, dark, night, with a plate of jollof rice, a roasted tilapia, a wine cooler, and a bunch of new friends.

I think about the “New Hand of God”, the last chance for “the hope of Africa”, I think about Luis Suarez v. Ghana in 2010.

Always an Ant. Love WASS

I had spent a month interviewing young Ghanaian student/actors about their sense of national identity and teaching Literature and Composition classes at a local high school ( “Playing the Part” pub. 2011 Bowling Green State University). At night, I’d call your mother, then my fiancee, and transcribe interviews while watching matches from the World Cup in South Africa.

A few days before, the US had been bested by Ghana…again. I’d been roundly jeered and jostled by every Ghanaian I lived near, worked with, and taught. By the next match, Friday, July 2nd, we were all friends again, and I was taking the night off from interviews to talk to the love of my life and watch the Black Stars.

It was…horrible. First there was the lead, the baffling long-distance strike from Sully Muntari. Then the anxious despair to stop any goals from the talented tandem of Diego Forlan and Luis Suarez. When Forlan equalized it seemed to doom us all. But the Ghanaians grew into the match, asserting themselves again and pushing on. When John Pantsil lined up the free kick it felt inevitable, and to see Stephen Appiah and Dominic Adiyiyah pounce, we were bubbling to burst into cheers.

Then…disbelief. Agony. Anger. Defeat. Suarez had stopped a clear goal with his hand. It was unfair, unjust, unbelievable. Instead of celebrating a hard fought but well earned victory, it was back to the penalty spot for baby striker, Asamoah Gyan.

I think it was Adama, my host teacher, pacing in front of the bar, who said, “no, no…not Gyan…he’s too excited-oh…”. And then…a clanging crossbar, an obviously agonizing penalty kick defeat, and a long, echoing, bitter silence. A painful feeling in a place that was so often music, and noise, and joy to see you.

That was a hard loss. It wasn’t just clearly hard for the players, or hard for me as a fan, it was hard because one whole nation, and so many more across the continent felt it. But, as with all things, it comes with a lesson.

We are marked by our pain, both in scars and in strength.

10 years on from that there’s been a recent spate of writing about the loss and the team that suffered it. But the story that comes to mind the most, is Homegoing , the American Book Award winning novel that has nothing to do with soccer, and everything to do with pain.

The book chronicles two families carrying the long legacy of trauma and tragedy from the golden coast of Ghana all the way to Stanford University and back again. It is beautiful, heartbreaking, and important.

Soccer isn’t that important.

Certainly a match ten years ago is nothing next to generations of stories and legends. However, there’s something about Homegoing that reminds us of the strength that comes with struggle. That through pain and degradation and angst come both our fears and concerns, as well as our strength and ability.

Asamoah Gyan went home last week. He’s said to have watched the match, and his failure at the spot dozens of times. It hurts me as a passive observer to watch it, and Gyan…it hurts him more.

I wish the match could happen again because it really hurts me every time when I’m alone. It’s something that I can never forget. I watch it over and over and over again and hope one day I can turn things around and make people happy.

–Asamoah Gyan (2014)
Baby Jet’s Return (Legon Cities FC)

But that’s the thing. The memory hurts (he stopped taking penalties for the team shortly afterward) but it also encouraged him to set a goal, a goal he’s chasing now in Legon. A goal he’s chasing down the street from where I watched him miss, from where that echoing silence seemed to bury us.

It may have scarred Asamoah Gyan, but it also strengthened him. I hope your most painful moments do the same.

5. The Hard is What’s Fun.

5. The Hard is What’s Fun.

by scruffyrube ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Dear Boys,

It was a pretty hard week to be a fan. Out of our favorite 11, playing a total of 7 matches we saw a combined two goals scored and only one victory recorded.

The goal is that way boys…

Even my birthday on January 25th was tempered by discouraging results. The maximum MacKenzie team, Ross County, got burned by Celtic on Burns Day. Moreover, Alex and I ventured out to try to watch the Staggies only to be stymied by the fickle fiends of streaming services.

Not all was lost though. We did get to play some coaster soccer in the back of a bar. (Please send Father of the Year trophies to me directly) Then Alex discovered a new kind of soccer, where you throw the ball into one of six holes. We adults might give this game a different name, like, say, pool. But for Alex this too was soccer and he was invested.

Alex’s insistence on trying and trying again is not unlike the fans who still show up week after dispiriting week. Or the player mid-slump who puts in the time and effort knowing it can be done and wanting to do it.

Put simply: we want to do hard things because they are hard to do.

Improve public schools: hard. Learn to walk: hard. Get the ball in the hole/goal: damned hard. We do it, to paraphrase a former president, “not because it is easy, but because it is hard.”

Alex, you already get that. You already try and try and try again because it’s going to happen, and you want to do it yourself. Would that I could take credit for teaching you that, but that just seems to be you, and that is beautiful.

The Poet Burns as a winger

In honor of Burns Night and the boys from Dingwall who now must face that other Glaswegian Giant (Rangers). I’ll let Rabbie himself have the final word on loving what is hardest:

The wintry wast extends his blast,

And hail and rain does blaw;

Or the stormy north sends driving forth

The driving sleet and snaw:

While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down,

And roses from bank to brae:

And pass the heartless day.

The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast,

The joyless winter-day,

Let others fear, to me, more dear,

Than all the pride of May:

–Robbie Burns: “Winter”
4. The Truth About Transfers and Trash Pandas

4. The Truth About Transfers and Trash Pandas

by scruffyrube ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Dear Boys,

January is a special time of year. Things are new. Possibilities abound. Hope sprouts through the thick blanket of snow.

Beyond people’s natural desire to see the best at the start of the year, football fans have another mechanism to instill hope: the transfer window.

With the transfer window, contending teams seek a push for glory, and struggling sides look for players to rejuvenate a tired squad. For fans both dreaming of trophies and those fearing a nightmare campaign this means checking and rechecking transfer rumor mongers in hopes that they will see some golden glimmer of hope peeking in between the blurry lines of newsprint.

Mr. Fowles

Reasonable lose all logic this time of year. So it reminds me of a favorite phrase about truth from the writer John Fowles which I interpreted thusly:

There are three kinds of people: those so stupid that they believe anything; those intelligent enough to doubt everything; and those truly wise enough to accept everything.

Let me explain.

Lots of people can believe freely and fully. Belief is fun. It helps us imagine freely and realize our dreams. Believing that pandas are right around the corner makes each day a little richer in possibilities. Just as believing that Mario Balotelli, the recent all-world striker would leave bitterly racist Brescia for bitterly cold Minnesota makes the chances of our local team much brighter.

But belief can be foolish. If you both go to kindergarten calling raccoons “trash pandas” because you believed your dad, your belief would seem silly. (Particularly to me, which is why I call them that.) In the same way believing Mario Balotelli is about to join the local eleven will only leave you looking as ridiculous as if you cut your hair in that style only he can pull off.

Seriously, these are Trash Pandas…I promise

Those who abandon blind belief often find that doubt is satisfying. Doubting what you hear allows for a buoyant pride when you are right and others are wrong. It’s naturally gratifying to be validated in your skepticism amongst the faithful. In our examples, this could include telling your old man he’s wrong, or swiftly deflating delusions of grandeur among fans who think a millionaire would happily leave home to join an average team on the frozen Midwest tundra.

But while your cynicism can net a little grim gratification, doubt is a bitter pill for the rest of us to swallow. To be sure: right is right and you don’t need to pretend for the sake of others. But while doubting your dad’s name for raccoons might be wise, I hope you make a little room for my fairy tales lest you live in the drab reality that plagues so many people’s lives of quiet desperation. Doubting the arrival of Signore Balotelli might prove your wisdom amongst fellow fans, but why be a buzzkill for an amusing idea that carries us through the long, dark winter?

Signore Balotelli future Minnesota Legend

Acceptance allows you to have fun when it comes true and to be satisfied if it doesn’t. You need not believe that your unreliable narrator of a father is right about raccoons, just accept I have an odd sense of humor and a wish things were a little brighter than they are…not bad traits for a dad. You needn’t play the killjoy in Balotelli banter, just accept that fans are desperate for a little hope and would rather reach for the stars than the frozen sod in front of them.

Transfer rumors are an ideal arena to practice this skill. Sure I can say: Miguel Ibarra has drawn the interest of Ross County, or Asier Dipanda might make the move from Punjabi plains to Grenoble Alps. If you believe me, you might enjoy the daydream. if you doubt me, you’ll be satisfied to know you’re right. But if you accept that I’m a romantic who hopes teams he loves might swap players he loves, you can appreciate both my dreamy idealism and your righteous reality.

Please become a Staggie…Please…

In short boys: I hope you strive to accept what you hear whenever you can and to challenge believers and doubters to stretch beyond their comfort zones.

Oh, and I really hope someone at Ross County reads this and reviews Miguel Ibarra’s tapes. He’s available for a free transfer and while he’s been making more than you normal pay, he’s worth every penny…or Euro…or I guess penny again.