Of being a god

Sometimes gods walk amongst us.

There are moments in life when us mere humans become something more than what our frail bodies allow. To give you a quick example of one of these cases: the Steelers became walking, human gods as they held the Lombardi Trophy over their heads. That was a moment which crowned those players and set them above par, above every other human being in the world as they bathed with all the glory and honor.

Just as a note, I am not trying to be disrespectful to The Powers That Be. And I am also not a Steelers fan. It is just that at times like winning the Super Bowl, no matter what team, they are transported to a land of make believe and those men become invincible, unstoppable and immortal. I suppose there are many moments like that in life and they come in very different flavours for many people. From your first kiss to holding your newborn baby all the way through walking on the moon to your first Hello-World program.

Oddly enough I believe that it is through competition that we achieve those moments of unparallel glory. There are two basic types of competitions according to the Gospel of the Great Fry: The first are individual competitions, in which you have no one else to beat but yourself. I personally do not remember many of these moments, maybe because I like to believe I have me under control; sure I back fire from time to time like a firecracker or an atom bomb, depending on the situation. Or maybe just because I have bad memory. Some of these moments involve overcoming your own fears, beating your own apathy and achieving your own goals. All in all, these are moments that make you stand tall and be proud of yourself. Personal victories that no one else can understand. I have never gone to a titty-bar, for no particular reason other than my own, moralistic and maybe retrograde conviction if you wish; but it is still a personal victory over no one but myself that no one can completely understand - and yes Victoria, I have never gone to a titty-bar.

The other competitions involve others. We are talking basically about sports, tournaments, whatever involves beating an opponent; a victor and a loser. I am not a sports-man per se, but I love this victories the most. Because when you are down field, you meet your rival in the eye; and it is in that small moment of eye contact that you realize that in order to achieve victory you have to win. And to win, you need not only beat yourself but your rival two; because you are at identical conditions, you both wear the shoulders and helmets like an armor, both have their bodies prepared, both have our minds atuned to the same goal, and both are fighting the individual battle to control your fear, your anger, your anxiety. At that moment the difference between you and your rival, winning and losing, between the glory or the void, are not the tools or the skills since both have that. It is who has the will and the might to win. So in order to win you have to beat your rival's will and impose your might. Be it chess or football, he with the most passion and desire wins.

But here are certain factors that elevates some type of competitions above others and that, ultimately, take you to real, human godliness. The first is playing in a team. In a 1-on-1 game it is your will against your rival's; yet in a team game, it has to be the total sum of the blue team's will against the red team's will. Back when I was an offensive lineman, many a one time I beat my defensive counterpart; sat them on their butt, take them to the ground, hold them at the line of scrimmage and opened highways for my running back to go through. Yet my victory over the poor soul in front of me meant nothing if a lineman from the other side did not do his job thus ending the play with a sacked quartebac; my victory meant nothing when a receiver dropped the ball; my victory meant nothing when the defense did not do their job. It was a team, and just like a machine need to be tuned up, we all needed to be atuned to the same desire, pasion and will to win. Thanks to The Powers That Be, we all had the same drive to win and so we won - most - games.

The second factor that must be met to take you to manly godliness is to have all the competitions at the same time; against yourself, against a rival and against a team. Like that machine at the county fair in which you put a quarter for a chance to use a mechanic claw and take home the loose teddy bear to your Honey Bunny, those battles take you from among the common mass of mere mortals, grab you by the soul and takes you to another level above others. Turns you into a god.

When I played football, all three battles took place. I had to beat myself during training; so many times I wished to leave the team - almost did once -, so many times I felt like my body could take no more, so many times I feared the monster in front of me, and many more times I had the taste of fear in my mouth, pain in my muscles, scars on my body and tiredom in my mind which made me want to go home crying for mommy and hide behind her dress. But still, everyday I was the second player to arrive at the training field - just after Capi -, still every time the defense took the ball I was the first offensive player running to the field and the first lineman at the huddle. Because everyday and every game I beat myself; I told me that I had proven naught to myself until I had won; to take the abuse on my body just one more day. And so I did.

At the field, I had a rival in front of me. A lineman or a linebacker. Some were more hardened than me. Others were faster. Most were more violent. But I can safely say that none of them had the will and mightiness in their souls because every game I beat them play after play. Sure, in order to rise you have to fall sometimes, but at the end of the day I had stood taller than my opponent. Some times just as I was running to the scrimmage line to take our positions for the incoming scramble I looked at the eyes of the guy in front of me, and I just loved the tint of despair and hopelesness in his eyes; because he knew he was beaten. And it is then that I smiled not in an over-confident way but with that yearns for more.

Lastly, we were a team. And it was as a team that we sometimes lost and sometimes won. It was as a team that one day at training we, the offensive linemen, sang "Hi-ho, hi-ho, it is off to work we go" together while carrying our beloved training tires to the field. It was as a team that we chanted under Chino's command while running around the training field. It was as a team that we laughed when my car burned in the parking lot. It was as a team that we ran under the hail storm. It was as a team that we stood tall when everyone though we would not even win a game.

Maybe it is no coincidence that I am having these thoughts, or rather, memories of old times at this point in my life. Especially those concerning the time when I played football back in the good days. Now, more than ever, I need to be reminded what I want; I need to be reminded how to do stuff; I need to be reminded that I am more than just another one of the bunch. Because I once were.

Back then I felt like a god.

Those Beautiful Places

Hello there!

I know, I know, I have been a bad boy for not posting. But hey, I am a busy man! ... *eyes around* ... right... Though I must say that I did find a job. Or rather, an "occupation." Do not ask me hoy the heck it happened, but a company back in my home city got word that I developed a small PocketPC system for taking drive-thru orders at a local fast food joint. So one fine day they contact me and ask me to help them develop more or less the same thing but in a bigger, better and improved version. To which I said: "Hell yeah!"

Now, here's the funny part though. Back in my good ol' school days I had a class in which we had to develop a system for a real "client." I quote it because it was not a real, real client per se, but a teacher who we had to treat like a client. I remember that by the end of the semester I realized some teams implemented a lot less functionality in the system that what we where doing. So I asked those teams how come they did not develop some stuff and their answer was simply: "Because we negotiated with the client, and we arranged to have less requirements." My jaw dropped at that moment. Of course! You can negotiate to do less stuff, or at least to do the easier requirements. Silly us, breaking our heads to do certain complicated requirements we had to meet when we could have negotiated our way out of them.

But I learned my lesson well... ooooh yes. Because I was not hired as a full-time employee but some kind of freelancer, I negotiated with the company. And in my negotiations I over-estimated the time it would take me to develop the system. Most importantly - and sincerely, I do not know how they agreed to this - we settled that I could work at home. HOME! Of course, I have to prove my progress and comply to certain conditions they set, but I am at HOME! That has to be one of the best job benefits anyone can find.

So there I am, coding in my chair - with wheels... oooh yes -, with a Coke by my side - there's a new flavour in the US: "Black Cherry Vainilla Coke;" and being the marketing whore that I am, I bough a 24-packer -, working when I want, taking a dump when I want, listening to the music I want, reading the new Stephen King novel - Cell - when I want, watching pr0n when I want, playing a horror movie when I want, enjoying World of WarCraft when I want, wear the clothes I want or none if I please... wow... Yeah, the pay is not really gonna be THAT much, but these benefits are really hard to beat, eh?

My only problem is... even with my over-estimated proyect schedule, this might only last two month at the most... but hey, I will enjoy it.

In other news! I am in pain. No, not some kind of figurative spiritual kinda pain but real physical pain. Some of you know that I once played Football as a lineman. Some even know that that particular year is the best year in my whole life. Just remembering the physical pain from training camp, the yelling, the insults, the hits... wow... the pain... it brings a tear to my eye. Best thing to ever happen to me up until now - I'm still waiting for you, My Dove.

That was years ago. But it came back with a vengeance.

A friend of mine called one of these days to inform me that I had been registered in the school's flag football team and that the next day we were playing. To which I said: "Are you friggin' nuts dude?!" I ceratainly am in no condition to play flag football, much less the next day! Yet, what could I do.

And the day came. Oh boy, did I prepare myself in my mind. I looked everywhere for my old football equipment; nitros, tables, knee-pads and everything. Then the final touch. Like a priest who during the Consagration at Mass, I slowly walked to my closet and opened. I eyed all my clothing, and it all became irrelevant; right at that moment nothing existed around me but three particular shirts which I keep and care deeply for. There they stood, like an altar to the good time: a small sweater my grandmother knitted for me many years ago; a torn, long sleeved sweater that clearly has seen better days; and a faded shirt that so long ago used to be black.

There they stood with an aura coming out of them. Back in the days those three garments where with me in each and every game under my football equipment. Like the mail clothing the middle age warriors wore under their armor before going to battle; that is what the shoulders, helmet, and my three garments were: my armor. Just touching them flooded my head with memories. Memories of all those games. Of all the training. Of the victory. The loses. The glory. The screams. The tears. The blood. The scars. The sweat.

The game.

Slowly I put the small sweater on, then the long sleveed one on top. Finally the faded shirt. They are not much, but they make me feel protected. As if the cloth with which they are women were capable of stopping anything coming at me. There were no shoulders this time - it is flag football after all. I work my way into the bathroom and look for tape. Lightly I put tape around my middle and anular fingers in my left hand because for some odd reason I cannot go into the field without doing that first. Some players wear the same socks the day before the game, some wear lucky charms. I tape those two fingers together.

Off I went to the field. Most of the members of our flag team are old team members of old. Comrades who had stood with me in the gloryful days of the game. There we stood again, together. Old maybe, some of us somewhat crippled, another stood drunk and all of us out of shape. But there were twothings we hadthat the other, younger teams did not. Experience; we might be out of shape, but we know what it is like to be in the field and we know how to do our job. We do not need speed, nor strenght to do it because we have the know-how. The other thing we have in our advantage is the most important.

We had us.

We know how to work together, how we think. And we know we have our backs. Those ties that binds us together as one, organic team. We took the field and looked at each other in the eyes and anyone could see we had a certain sparkle in them. The sparkle you could see in the eyes of old knights who after retirement have to wear that armor one more time; they grab their swords once again and look up at the skies thanking the heavens for one more chance to do what they had always done: shed every ounce of their being in the battlefield. So we did.

We won, but not without a price. I am now in pain. My muscles hurt in many ways I did not remember. Old muscles I had forgotten I had scream in pain. I woke the day after the game barely moving, my legs hardly responding. My body hurts in all those beautiful places.

I love it.