Golf and Pride

12th December

A senior leader of unnamed profession, recently took my wife for coffee, in the misunderstanding that it was to console her, cheer her up, and take her mind off my diagnosis.
They had made several attempts to engage, all at their convenience of course, but was parried by the frequency of other, more important matters.
Eventually securing a slot- this person proceeded to talk at my wife for the whole hour. Boasting of successes, past and present; their own at work, and those of their son, on the sports field. My wife, unable to get a word in edgeways, sat- miserable and disinterested, wondering when the bell would ring to finish this punishing fight.
In the last round, this person proceeded to impeach the honour of one of our friends. None of it true of course. A character assassination as it is popularly known.

My wife relayed this gruelling verbal beating to me, on her return home-like ‘Rocky’ after his bout with Ivan Drago, on Russian soil.

I have often wondered about this sort of behaviour. How could anyone be so proud and insensitive to others needs? This kind of meanness of spirit, must be a desire to promote ones own wellbeing, by chipping a few blocks off somebody else. I think meanness of this nature is borne of a realisation that they are deficient of humility and kindness or some other goodness. That something is ‘missing’ from their own life.

I have always thought myself a sportsman- Rugby, Football, Volleyball,Cricket, Darts, Table-Tennis;  in fact- you name it- I’ll thrash you! Even tiddly-winks. I’m Mr Competitive.
I once told my son, he would only successfully reach manlihood on defeating me in an arm-wrestle. Poor lad.
A couple of years ago, when on holiday in Tenerife- I took up the ping-pong bat at the poolside.
Repeated thrashings of my offspring, drew a crowd of small children. Our energetic rallies becoming a thing worthy of spectators. Both my son and daughter had a natural talent for the game, but I could never ‘just let them win for once,’ as my wife suggested.
Enter my ‘little Kazakhstani friend,’ as I dubbed him. Bringing his own bat to the table-I knew I had to be at my best.
Every day he would sidle up to my sun lounger, raise an eyebrow and wave his expensive looking bat in my direction.
This was our cue; for me to fold the page of my book about Rome, and engage in an epic battle of my own. For an hour or more, we would play- always resulting, eventually, in my victory.
Bursting with pride, I would strut back to my sun lounger and announce the inevitable result, as if it mattered not a whit.

The thing about Pride is that it always comes before a fall. I hate the word.
I was force-fed Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’ at school, and was thoroughly apprised of the consequences.

When it comes to golf, I’m an absolute stinker! My inability to show any kind of consistency is a humbling thing. It would madden me to the point of apoplectic rage. I no longer ‘play’ -resigned to the fact – like Boris and diplomacy- it’s simply not for me. Thus, I learned that I can’t be good at everything.

To quote the genius Wodehouse;’ Golf acts as corrective against sinful Pride. I attribute the insane arrogance of the later Roman Emperors almost entirely to the fact that, never having played golf, they never knew that strange chastened humility which is engendered by a topped chip shot. If Cleopatra had been ousted in the first round of the ladies’ Singles, we should have heard a lot less of her proud imperiousness’

Some friendly advice; (Wodehouse wisely advised never to give it!)

If you are elevated to a position of leadership or power- please remember this; To lead is to serve. Humility is the key- not arrogant Pride and backbiting; We have quite enough of that already, and you never know when you might get your comeuppance, or need a helping hand yourself.

It is no bad thing to rejoice in the success of others, however. Or something you achieve as a team. That’s a different sort of Pride. That can recognise its own faults and can learn to say sorry, or admit when it is wrong. Most Sportsmen and women of the individual variety, put their success down to others; their coach, dietician or mum and dad.

Look for the good and ditch the bad. Be kind to people and speak with kindness to each other. What harm can it do to try? Once I’ve removed the plank from my own eye- I’ll try and self administer.

I’m taking my family on holiday to Tenerife next week.
Now cancer has defeated my pride, I hope to rise again, with a new humility. I might even let the kids win at table-tennis!

Footnote;

The motley crew in the picture is Kingsbridge school volleyball team circa 1979. We won every game we ever played and won the league – and it was all because John Mitchell was sooo tall. And because of our great teacher – Mr Rew- or ‘Kanga’ as he was affectionately known.

Dedicated to Mr Rew.