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Monday, July 4, 2011

The Heroic



Let’s get something clear.

Sport and me fit together about as well as a carbon tax proposal sits with a mining magnate. We’re not talking about natural or comfortable friendship here.

Sports events would totally pass me by if it wasn’t for Husband. The vegemite to my buttered bread, just meant to go together with me in that totally right and ubiquitous way that complementaries do, he just has that admirable, and annoying, ability to pick up any piece of sporting equipment and just cause it to become a functioning part of who he is.

He doesn’t just watch sport, he breathes it in, melds into it and reads the text of the game as I would read a book. He’s right in there, anticipating where the next move is coming from, and evaluating how it is likely to work out.

Now tennis is one of his beloved games, and so this morning as I crawled into the world I was met with his impassioned excitement over the news of the victory. Not much ever reaches me in the morning. But something of his passion did stir interest in me and dragged me into the world of sweat and exertion for a brief moment or two. I even read the sporting section of the paper. In a skimming sort of way. Until I read something of Djokovic’s childhood and background. Then I found myself Googling him to find out just a bit more.

And then I was hooked.

And landed.

I realised he’s a conquering underdog. Now I don’t have anything against Nadal and that gorgeous physique, but after reading of Djokovic’s upbringing in the mountains of war-ravaged Serbia and his decision to hold fast to a dream, I was already all his. Then reading of him as a four year old packing his own tennis kit and heading down for lessons with the belief that he would someday be the World Number One had me all teary-eyed. Believing in ourselves when all we have is that small voice in us reassuring us that we are something is inspiring stuff.

Rising up against the odds, and continuing to believe in a dream when it’s so, so distant from us is my definition of the heroic.

Sometimes all we have is the smallest glimmer of hope that tomorrow, or many tomorrows to come, might be better.

We might not be the World Number One at tennis, but if we are holding on to hope against the odds, then for my money we have the same quality of heroism that fuels victories like Djokovic’s.



What do you see as the determining factor in being heroic?




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mothering, counselling, personal growth, domestic violence, counseling, stay at home Mum, writing, reading, books, children, personal development

3 comments:

  1. Ah yes. Quite the hero. And then this weekend the young lad in the pool too. They are inspiring people those sportsfolk! Thanks for Rewinding again x

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  2. I feel this way about Cadel Evans - loved the Tour de France & his victory against incredible odds was extraordinary. I'm inspired by their dreams and determination.

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  3. @ MultipleMum and Jennifersmart: I feel quite ashamed to say I'm not sure about the pool victory, and though I know of Cadel, specific details haven't impacted me. I'm a funny wee person and though I try to live in the world, I can't often touch the ground with both feet. I'm just beginning to get the enthusiasm that's Australian for the Tour De France. Sporting interests seem culturally shaped. Kiwis, not odd ones like me, would know for sure about the headline details, but wouldn't be watching it into the wee hours. It's all quite curious. Maybe I'll get with it a bit more next time round. Mum and Dad were there at Noirmoutier for the start. Does that count for some vicarious support and interest?

    But as for dreams and determination. I'm all for them! All the way!

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