Creativity & The Running Back

“A true genius admits that he or she knows nothing.”
Albert Einstein

“It isn’t enough to think outside of the box. Thinking is passive. Get used to acting outside the box.”
— Tim Ferris

runningbackRecently I’ve been intrigued with the ideas of creativity and greatness. What most of us think of as creativity is limited to the arts like writing, painting, dancing, acting, and sculpting. What people don’t consider is athletics. But think of the greats like Michael Jordan, Johnny Orr, Alex Rodriguez, Mario Andretti, Richard Petty, Joe Montana, Brett Favre, Jean-Claude Killy, Apollo Ono, Evgeni Plushenko, and Michelle Kwan.

How did Jordan always make that last shot? Because he practiced? Maybe. Because he was the best in the game? Probably. But I think Jordan had the creative genius to calculate the correct degree of height, of the arch, and of power, all while being double-teamed by defenders to make that last game winning shot. But the calculation was a subconscious thought, similar to ballet dancers and actors.

Let me give you another example, the professional running back. For example: All at once the RB (running back) sees the offensive play unfolding; he sees the hole, the hole insidezonetriplehe’d practised hundreds of times before; creating the hole requires a pulling guard to double team the defensive tackle and the center to move the nose guard to the right causing a gap in the defensive line and subsequent hole; theoretically, in the gap normally covered by the middle linebacker reading a run, but who now reads a pass from the secondary, yelling “pass pass!” The safety bumps and runs with the wide receivers as the tight end drops back to move the defensive right tackle to protect the quarterbacks blind side, while the fullback picks up a nimble cornerback blitzing wide, but the fullback buries him in the backfield; the the handoff finally happens just as the hole appears like an apparition in a dense fog; a hole, first imagined by a coach on a sheet of paper, placed in a playbook as “off-tackle left on two”; practised hundreds of times butpackerback never recognized by the RB; but now, the hole has opened and he’s about to step through the paradigm and into a new future; what’s on the other side of the hole, what does the future hold; this is creativity at its rawest form; this is the result of imagination and practice; it’s a coach’s hypotheses, an offensive lines determination, and an RB’s commitment to his future; yet, he hesitates until he hears his conscience telling to run through the hole; then he runs headlong through the gap while realizing that the runningbackstraightarmhole isn’t the future, it’s simply a doorway, his future lies on the other side of the threshold.

You see, creativity happens throughout all walks of life. From the sciences to the arts to medicine and law and athletics. It happens to most of us even if we never realize it.

But if you’re lucky enough to have children, then I recommend you look them in the eyes because in them you will always find your greatest example of your own creativity.

 

 

One Creative, One Blossom, One Night

This Rose Represents All Of This Summer's Beauty
The Creative’s Choice To Represent All Of This Summer’s Beauty

Jenni and I joyfully stepped out of the house at twenty past seven for her afternoon walk (kudos to Jenni’s plumbing!).

By that hour it was already dark but for the jostling tree canopy’s flash bulb burst of the city’s ghoulish orange tints.

Our neighborhood Edgewater, enjoys its gentrification’s hushed family sounds which escape their kitchens through screened front doors. Unfortunately we’re squeezed between two struggling, sputtering overlooked or underfunded,  dicey, SRO’s by eager developers looking for quick $400,000 condominium flips and the deceptive veil of unsubstantiated assurance that upscale retail would quickly stake their claims in ground-level build-outs the size of a bird cage. Aldermen often deny developments promising to turn-out now displaced single mothers barely able to keep her family safe in a rent-controlled, 1960’s, poorly planned, troublesome 10-story mid-rise, shoddily built, local drug lords staking claims or disagreements quickly and publicly resolved through an indiscriminate hail of gunfire. This hell hole is still better than the streets.

I guess what better place to plant the most beautiful blossom of our passing summer than in a place wholly absent of beauty. The Creative, the One that irresponsibly plants the most beautiful blossom in the world in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the world expresses an unconditonal affection for blossoms and beauty.

He can offer it. What we do with it is, well . . .

NOTE: I snapped this picture in total darkness
and absent of any flash device. I revisited
the sight this afternoon and the blossom
as well as the plant were gone.

2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 7,300 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 12 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

Allen Ludden, Help Me Please!?!?

Had I known, the moment after initially accessing the internet via winsock or an equally cryptic amalgamation of geeky gobbledygook, that membership to the exclusive clubs (known as websites) would require not just one ridiculously preposterous secret knock-knock (login) followed by an incomprehensible, ludicrous, wacky, loony, cockeyed, screwy, and off the wall cavalcade of letters, numbers, symbols, and smoke signals resembling hieroglyphics or purposefully enigmatic code which 99% of average humans can’t create much less reproduce, I’d have hung up my telephone receiver/modem and exclaimed, “let those living in a foreign country, speak a foreign language!  Here, here we speak English: literal English: whole, cream-at-the-top, decadently-indulgent, Nym-sister inspired (Homo, Syno, and Anto), dipthong-declared English!

My internet usage is appropriate to my demographic but I currently store 200+ logins and corresponding passwords!  Two Hundred!  My password manager is the electronic equivalent of my pop’s workbench: more than half the crap he’s kept, when asked, he’s got no clue what it does, where it goes, when he used it, or why he’s kept it.  Same with me – but don’t ever, ever delete any login/password combination – EVER – because that’s the one you’ll really need!  And where do you keep the login/password combination to your Password Manager program?

I’m currently enduring the arduous task of searching through four years of notebooks (like the guy that pitched the winning lottery ticket) for a login/password combination I cleverly disguised as a common American idiom of which I was certain I’d remember because it was part of our vernacular in 2009 like Aberzombie.  Remember Aberzombie?  Can’t you just picture yourself around the Starbuck’s counter catty hissing that the size 2 no-foam-easy-skim-extra-hot-cappucino is such an Aberzombie?  Like that: that’s like what I’m searching for: that’s not what I’m searching for.

To the internet community at-large (especially those responsible for the L-SAT level login/password combination requirements):  Why not invent an easier (and more pleasurable) method of identification?  I’d like to suggest a pair of lips closely resembling your husband/wife/lover; boyfriend/girlfriend; Clooney; Roberts; Jackman; Beyonce which, when kissed, captures your DNA and compares it to the DNA profile they’ve got stored.

Tongue however, locks you out.  That’s just freaky-deaky.