By Jeffrey Petts
When I decided to leave the sanctuary of my goal crease, I became the epitome of comic relief for my hockey team. I am Falstaff.
250 pounds of goalie (albeit slow moving) can be an intimidating sight for an opposing shooter. 250 pounds of clumsy skater is little more than a pylon on wheels for a slightly adequate adversary. When I opted to forgo the chest protector and leg pads in favor of shin guards and a toothpick-thin stick, I quickly realized I was a duck out of water.
Young men dream of being the All-Star-caliber player for their team. They envision leading their teammates against improbable odds to victory. That’s why many athletes liken themselves to warriors.
However, the thing most fans enjoy about watching sports is the drama. The highs and lows. Stunning victory and tragic defeat. Two forces battling head-to-head until a champion stands alone. Everybody loves a winner.
Not only do we love our winners, we fawn over the team leader. He’s the MVP. Joe Montana. Wayne Gretzky. Michael Jordan. They stand taller than their peers because they possess an innate gift – they recognize the dramatic moment and take history by the reins. They are the King Henrys of the sports world.
Henry V. Prince Hal? Harry? Shakespeare? **sigh** (Was I the only one paying attention in high school and college?) Okay, King Henry V was a fairly significant ruler in the 15th century. 150 years later when Shakespeare wrote a quartet of plays honoring the long-dead potentate, Henry V went from national hero to a whole new stratosphere of iconic popularity. Don’t think so? Check out the speech ol’ Bill had Prince Hal lay on the troops before the Battle of Agincourt.
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3vMfCv5J0g8[/youtube]
Tell me this cat wasn’t a pimp back in the day.
(Apparently, a rousing speech is all one needs to mop up the French. If I’m correct, the Eve of St. Crispin’s Day speech roughly translates into Horst-Wessel-Lied.)
Editor’s note: I know there’s only like two people that got the joke but, trust me, it was funny. This is what happens when you have a dual college major in English and history.
So…
Harry was a hero and a leader of men. Young men want to be heroes and leaders of men, but without the hacking and slashing and bloodshed of actual warfare so they opt for sports. It’s better than getting the Black Knight treatment.
The Black Knight. Monty Python? C’mon! You mean to tell me you didn’t pay attention in class and you weren’t watching television? Criminey sakes.
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2eMkth8FWno[/youtube]
So…
Kids want to be like King Henry sans all the maiming and such, so they take up sport.
(But where does the comic relief stuff come in? Patience. We’re getting there.)
You see, if the hero is the MVP, and sport is like drama, then if the play is to be a success, there can only be one leader. Sure, there are lots of guys in funny costumes on stage, but only one is the center of attention. Everyone else has a lesser role to play. They compliment the star and allow him to shine brightest. But just because the rest of the players have smaller roles doesn’t mean they’re any less important. It’s these unsung bit players that set the stage. Someone needs to lose. Somebody needs to be the faceless mass that sacrifices itself so the fearless leader can stand alone in victory.
(Where does a 250-pound goalie fit in to all of this? Soon enough.)
Where were we? Oh, yeah, faceless mass. Got it.
So, my hockey team has been in this malaise. Week after week we have pounded opponents into the ground without much trouble. Actually, it’s been no trouble at all. No drama. Nothing. You see, for a team to play without hurdles might sound like fun, but it’s really quite boring. Sure we’re undefeated, but who cares? We’re a much better team than all our competition. Our chief opponent is boredom.
(This is where the fat guy comes in. Remember that stuff I said about the faceless mass sacrificing itself? Enter the 250-pound goalie that can’t skate a lick.)
Yup. There I was. I was drenched in sweat before the warm-ups were through. When it was time for my first shift, I knew every teammate was pulling for me to score a goal or do something significant. Most of what I ended up doing was falling. Often. Ungracefully. Referees and opponents were laughing. I was a joke.
The team won the game and though I was obviously the worst skater in the game, I filled a specific role.
MVP? No. Gritty, all-heart guy? Nope. Inspirational Rudy-type protagonist? Uh, hardly.
I was Falstaff. When the season began to be anything but fun, the clumsy goalie took one for the team and left himself open to ridicule. Some people might have been offended at the laughter. Others may have sworn off the game altogether. But that wasn’t the case in this instance. My pratfalls (and I assure you, none were intentional) provided more than a few moments of happiness in an otherwise un-fun hockey season. One time, as I sat on the bench (something completely new for a guy that doesn’t get to talk to anybody because nobody really hangs out with a goalie during a game), our 5’2†malcontent with the Napoleon complex wiped a tear of laughter from his eye and looked my way. “Thank god you skated tonight,†he said, “because you just raised team morale through the roof.†Then he went back to laughing uncontrollably.
Again, every player on a successful team – just like every actor in a successful troupe – has a role to play. Folks might not remember much about Shakespeare’s “Henriad” tetralogy, but they remember Prince Hal.
And they remember Falstaff.
If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked! If to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old host that I know is damned: if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh’s lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord; banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins; but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being, as he is, old Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry’s company, banish not him thy Harry’s company: banish plump Jack, and banish all the world!
1 Henry IV, II, iv
That’s right. Sports. Comedy. Shakespeare. Canon Fodder. If you’ve read this far, you must have liked something. Share it with friends and family. Dig into your old high school yearbook, track down that girl you had a crush on and send her a link to show how much you’ve matured. Chicks dig literary stuff. (At least that’s what I keep trying to convince them.)
Questions? Comments? Insults? Rotten produce from the groundlings? Heave them all my way at jeff@canon-fodder.com.