Current studies in one of my fields of special interest, gene engineering, has uncovered something that i’ve known intuitively for a lot of time – the presence of the “stupid” gene. This gene is present in all people without exception, but is in particular active in sports people – in particular squash players and footballers.
A good example is the story affiliated to me by an australian friend who told of talented rugby footballer who, in the last minute of the game was competent to kick a field (drop) goal. This would have been an splendid achievement had his side not been trailing by four points, a field goal being worth only three. At the time his team was attacking the opposition’s goal line and can have scored a attempt (touchdown) worth five points. His team can have won the match, but his goal ensured that they would lose it.
This was a classic case of the stupid gene controlling the player’s activenesses.
In the game of squash, recent events have caused me to see the stupid gene in action firsthand. Of late, a few young players who climb my mountain to seek wisdom on the squash court, have shown me the power of the stupid gene is by no means diminishing but on the contrary, increasing. Each strategy has been explored and enforced leaving no stone unturned in trying to find a solution to the blight on the squash game of these tyros.
After the essential series of drills, tactical routines and games, we ordinarily spend a few cherished moments playing a game. Of a sudden their previous tactical control and discipline deserts them and it’s short, short, short. They play the ball short at the earliest chance and at times earlier. In spite of the hours of instruction on the tactics of this sacred game (which verges on indoctrination), they persist in throwing these basic principles out the window, or ought to that be the court door.
Let me explain that i am a man very close to two score and ten, with a severe back ailment, injured groin, and totally missing out in physical fitness. I am, in short, a cripple. In spite of this, i am competent to come back the vast most of their short shots with comfort, to the extent that within a shot or two i’ve won the rally. Ordinarily frustrated by this they attempt to go shorter (that is, lower) with the inevitable result. Tin.
Oh how i’ve tried to provide corrective counsel. Hit the ball deeper to force me into the back corners, thence benefitting control of the t, placing themselves in a position to take advantage of any loose shots i may play. But no, i am competent to almost set up camp in the front half of the court. These young tyros think me a talent. I do no more than accept their gifts. This they can not see.
On rare events when i strive to retrieve their short shots, i ought to gather my equanimity at the front of the court, allowing my contestant an easy winner. Rather, i watch with mixed emotions as the tin becomes my saviour. Why hadn’t they hit the ball to length for not complex or complicated winner? ” i enquire. The invariable reply is “i was trying”. Yes, very trying.
Now it doesn’t take a guru to point out that to hit the ball deep, one must have height – with regards to two metres above the tin. The cause they have played this shot is that the stupid gene has totally overridden the “i don’t think that’s a in particular good idea” gene. Trying to provide corrective counsel at the time is ineffectual. They are still in the grips of this most obnoxious of human building blocks.
I ought to point out that no one is exempt from the stupid gene. Some time ago, whilst playing a formidable contestant who made the trek up to my mountain court, i was taken over by this gene. A ordinarily authentic backhand volley began to break down. Did i determine that discretion was the better portion of valour and stay clear from playing the shot? No the stupid gene forced me to proceed to play the shot till the all too brief and bitter end.
I meditated for a lot of hours in the lotus position at the t, trying to eradicate these behaviours. Thinking i acquired the ultimate and had taken the “stup” out of stupid and only left the “id”, i played a superb match versus the same contestant until the fourth game when i was down 2 – 7. I realised that the stupid gene was compeling me to go short too often times. As luck would have it, the mental force gained from the countless hours of meditation, i was competent to rectify my behaviour and take that fourth game and the match.
My solution is not to use this gene as an pardon. As we all have it, we are all at a similar disadvantage. It’s those who learn to control this essential who will succeed. And of course those who study the steps: even cripples can get short stuff.
