Sports class warfare
Never underestimate the power of storytelling. Not even for a second, as the stories will stay with you for a long time, shaping your view on the world.
You still remember them, don't you? The stories and the little roles you were allowed to play in them. Others have always been casted as the hero.
Of course I do. I watched enough movies of the late 20th century. And within: the omnipresent rivalry:
Jock or Nerd?
And every reader who endured at least one of your posts knows: you're a nerd. I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd written 'Kirk or Picard?'
Such a 'duality' is of course completely idiotic. I know very nerdy jocks, very sporty nerds, and people who are neither. And I know amazing people among all of them. But today...
...today the city belongs to... 'them'.
A football championship, sunshine, the smell of a BBQ somewhere. Every bar is suddenly full of fans, wearing colours, having fun. And I'm back in school, back in class, back in PE, back in a time when “Jock or Nerd” was like “Techno or HipHop”, like “Black or White”, and even a single shade of gray was yet to be invented.
I'm decades older now and I'm still there picking sides.
As if it ever was your call to pick. You were picked. More precisely: picked last. For the team.
Fine, let's embrace the roles, let's mix some gray. You want me to stand up? To play the game, to cheer the team?
I can wear the colors.
My past is where I come from, not where I go, unless I run in circles. And even then, they'd be mine to run.
How about we consider the old stories more like silent movies?
Even more boring?
Open for art: same old movie, same old pictures. But every decade of my life has its own soundtrack running along.
You just try to fight your stories, to run from them.
Not in the slightest, my dear George. I'm owning and telling them. And I never underestimate their power.
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