"One mark of a great soldier is that he fights on his own terms or fights not at all" - Sun Tzu, The Art of War “They say don’t compare, compete, and so I joined a recreational basketball league. What I learned is that I’m not good enough to recreationally compete in the sport of basketball. My new goal is to get injured at every pickup basketball court in the country.” - a comedian I once knew, in his living room. Now, comparing myself to others is not a sport foreign to me, nor is it to most people in this society, country, neighborhood, school, or wherever you are in this world of flesh and blood. I sit typing this post with a slightly deviated septum after I got head-butted yesterday straight to the nose while trying to defend a drive to the paint at LA Fitness. Man, was I “cooking” the game before, as my new pickup acquaintances told me. I scored the first 6 out of our meager 10 points until we got edged out by a bigger and stronger team. I’ve been working on my “killer instinct” as Tim Grover calls it, the trainer to both Michael Jordan, Dwayne Wade, and Kobe Bryant respectively, and I waited on the sidelines to unleash another level of defensive prowess so that I could continue to “cook”. The team I was playing with was a lot better this time around and I knew the game of some of my teammates. I tried to play my favorite way, facilitating the good of others and focusing on their strengths. I’ve been working on my pick-and-roll game and being able to dish dimes, as well as shoot from all three distances on the court at a moment’s notice, refining my quick reflexes in much the same way I’ve honed my skills as a blitz chess player. Luckily, my team was making plays for me and so I decided to lock into the defensive end, trying to front the driving lines and get into people’s spots before they got there. However, in pickup basketball, one of the annoying, yet potentially freeing facets of the style of play is that there’s no referee, which means call your own fouls, preparing yourself to be ready to fight with your game, your mouth, and as a last resort, your fist. Now, I’m not much of a fighter, but this moment showed me that maybe that needs to change. As a fast break developed I went to the left block and tried to set my feet to take a charge. In the previous game I had done the same, gotten knocked straight to the floor, and called offensive foul to no avail. An offensive foul is one that’s usually reserved for a referee to call, because it’s one of those fouls which questions the bravado of the man who called it. Taking a charge doesn’t usually get rewarded in pickup basketball, because one is expected to take force willingly and dish it back all the same. “Stand your ground”, as they say. I sort of agree with this sentiment, because ultimately, we were at a gym, and the object of us being here was to get stronger. So if it means getting knocked down despite my feet being set, I’ll use it as motivation to get out and hit the weights later. However, this time around, as I set my feet and got ready to stand my ground, my opponent banged his head against my nose, immediately drawing blood. I screamed out, “Bro! You head-butted me in the nose, that’s an offensive foul!” To which he retorted, “It wasn’t intentional, that’s not a foul.” I shouted, “Bro, I’m bleeding!” As blood started to drip down my face, another player came up to me and said, “Bro, you okay?” I shouted, “I’m bleeding!” As it finally started to dawn on everyone that I was profusely dripping blood, I stormed off the court to find first aid, exasperated at the fact that my opponent’s first response wasn’t to see if I was okay, but to deny the intentionality of potentially fracturing my nose. I put my hands up in exasperation pleading, “At least call a dead ball! Even if it’s not a foul, you broke my nose bruh! What is wrong with you?!” However, to his defense, he was just playing by the rules, by which I mean, in pickup basketball, there are no rules. The same way that you can take the king in speed chess, you can hurt your opponent in pickup basketball, to which one might say, “But, that’s a foul”. Well, yes. And then what? There are three steps to generally resolve a dispute in basketball without a ref: * Argue. * Shoot for it: “Ball don’t lie.” * Fight me. As the front desk clerk told me, “I’m a lover, not a fighter, and that’s why I don’t play basketball.” Behind any bark must come a bite, and behind any harsh words, there must always be the threat of credible force. “Diplomacy is a tactic, not a strategy.” - Ben Shapiro As many political pundits have said in regards to foreign policy, “F around and find out.” Whenever there is an arbiter present, one only trusts his arbitration when the threat of credible force is apparent. This is why a military exists in the first place, to protect the sovereignty of king and country. But I’m a Christian, how does this make any sense within the framework of non-violence Jesus preaches about? “The meek shall inherit the Earth.” “Turn the other cheek.” How does the threat of credible force lie behind the sovereignty of our King who stood faithfully by his Father while they nailed him to a cross, all the while saying, “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do”? “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood”. “Jesus was gentle with the person, yet violent with the spirit.” - Jon Tyson, “Fighting Shadows” Jesus had the threat of credible force always behind him, the sovereign king of all nations, “Yahweh”, yet as the son of God, he willingly sacrificed himself to pay for the sins of all, to end once and for all the need for human blood, human sacrifice, and the need to use physical violence to protect the sovereignty of king and country, because most importantly, His kingdom is not of this Earth. So, how does a Christian resolve a dispute with blood dripping down their face, knowing that they can’t argue, they can’t shoot for it, and they can’t fight back? * Do better Otherwise known as “repent”. Jordan Peterson says that when one looks at the translation of, “The meek shall inherit the Earth”, the word, “meek” more clearly connotes to “one who keeps their sword sheathed”, because as one Redditor, defmacro-jam, clarifies, “one can only be gentle or mild when coming from a position of strength”. Jesus also said, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a person's enemies will be those of his own household.” And as Paul later clarifies in Hebrews, the sword is the Word of God. The Truth cuts through the heart of Man, for “every man has sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” The Christian is “gentle with the person, but violent with the spirit.” We rebuke the Enemy in Truth, and if it means sacrificing our own life to save the soul of a brother in Christ, we let flesh fall so that we may show the Truth in love for one another. Above all, we resist the Enemy, for he is the author of all lies. We tell the truth. But what if someone head-butts you in the nose to the point of blood dripping down your face and denies your plea for penalty in the form of an offensive foul? * Argue (didn’t work) * Shoot for it (you might make it but then you can’t keep playing and soak the entire gym with your blood) * Fight me (and then what, it’s not going to lead to any foreseeable win because you have to leave the game anyways) * Do better. So what do I need to do to “do better”? I have to get stronger so that I can be more gentle. No one runs straight into a brick wall without understanding they might get knocked down. No one barks one’s threats to bite when they know they might get bit back harder. No one trash talks a baller who’ll torch them at a moment’s notice. No one fights someone they wish they had on their team. Well, they might, but they’ll “F around and find out.” When Kobe jabbed a ball from the sideline straight into Matt Barnes face to psych him out, Barnes didn’t flinch, and the next season Kobe recruited him. Even if I convinced my opponent that it was an offensive foul and that I deserved recompense, it wouldn’t have done any good, because my nose was dripping bullets of blood. The only recourse I had in that moment was to think of all the ways I could get stronger, so that next time, he wouldn’t think twice about trying to knock me over in the first place. I went to get first aid, stuffed my nose with some tissues, went straight to the squat machines, got as many max reps as I could get in, then went home to replenish with water, electrolytes, salt, and food. I took a shower, prayed, and brainstormed all the ways I could get physically stronger, and more importantly, arm myself with all the weapons I could use as a potential fighter. Not because I wanted to fight the guy, but because I wanted to know I knew how. I’m a skinny guy who doesn’t know how to fight, and that makes me an easy target, especially when deciding whether or not to go straight at someone towards the rim. It’s not that I want to learn to kill, it’s that I want to learn to take a punch, and not get knocked down. My ex loved two things, scuba diving and capoeira. I used money as an excuse, but it was fear that was the driving force behind my reluctance to embark in those activities. I wrote about my fears here: I finally went scuba diving and reflected on it here: I think it’s finally time to invest in learning to fight. Not so that I can be violent and indulge the killer instinct, but so that I know how to subdue it. Recently, I read Tim Grover’s, “Relentless”, his
