Just got my third e-mail from Obama camp urging me to try my luck at snagging an invite to the exclusive little swingin' soiree at Casa George Clooney.  Why are they making it so hard for me to keep the faith?

David Brooks ( who had previously revealed his  lack of  athletic Mojo in a piece about Jeremy Lin)  wrote a column a while ago about baseball team fandom and loyalty.  Specifically about his dilemma of living and raising a family in D.C. (home to the Washington Nationals) and being unable to transfer his loyalties to his new home team because of his lifelong attachment and affection for the NY Mets.   Said Brooks: 

“I’ve since come to accept that my connection to the Mets exists in a realm that precedes individual choice.”

“Team loyalty of this sort begins with youthful enchantment.”

Okay Dave, sure, I'm a Mets Man all the way, but  I grew up in the Bronx as a Yankee fan--and I kinda like the S.F. Giants.  And when the Knicks aren't in action, I find the Celtics fun to watch.   And why should enchantment end in childhood. C'mon, open up your heart and let The Nationals in--get re-enchanted.  I used to like Bob Dylan, now I can't listen to him without thinking he sounds like someone doing a Bob Dylan impression.  I thought Ingmar Bergman was a genius when I was 15, now he mostly strikes me as a humorless bore. And I'm not knocking Dylan or Bergman, they didn't change...I did. And I think for me, enchantment has something to do with the mystery and magic created by dint of extraordinary craft and skill.  I'm not going to be enchanted by someone who can do something that I can do.  I wouldn't pay to watch someone like me play music or tennis--I want to see people who can do what I can't.  I think that's what makes The Circus so entertaining. 


Exhibit A:

If you crave more, Ilana Yahav has many more on YouTube, with some showing her doing it so you can see the techniques and she has her own website: http://sandfantasy.com/

Today I’m enchanted by Richard Bona and Eliane Elias.  And if one gleans nothing else from reading G.K. Chesterton, the idea that enchantment is something only a child experiences is a cynical and spiritually deadening one.   

But enchantment is not the same thing as nostalgia.  Nostalgia is that cozy cocoon of deliriously disassociated  hindsight.  It flows freely whenever we hear songs that served as soundtracks to teenage romance or as we recall  books that first introduced us to the cathartic joy of spilling your inner beans.  But have you read The Catcher in the Rye recently? My son read it for school and found it unconvincing (to put it mildly), so I picked it up and it took me less than 20 pages to concur. But different strokes for different folks I guess. 

Brooks goes on to another thought later in his piece that got my attention:

“There’s a core American debate between “On the Road” and “It’s a Wonderful Life.” “On the Road” suggests that happiness is to be found through freedom, wandering and autonomy. “It’s a Wonderful Life” suggests that happiness is found in the lifelong attachments that precede choice.”

Notwithstanding that it’s news to me that there’s a core debate between  On the Road  and It’s a Wonderful Life ( one of those annoying habits Brooks has of turning passing observations into assumed universals) I think he makes a good point.  Are we seekers of free will and individual autonomy or do we want interdependence and cooperative collaboration?  Or can we have both?

My friend (S.L.) often says about sports—“we care more than the players do.”  Great point.  

Bill Simmons, who writes about sports (smartly and entertainingly) and particularly Basketball, was interviewing former Celtic Sam Jones--and throughout the interview Simmons was asking Jones about games and moments in historic playoff and Championship games.  Jones had trouble remembering the games in the context of whether it was the first round or second, or which team was favored, or even whether the game was played at home or on the road.  But Jones had perfect recall when it came to specific plays.  He could recite sequences in play by play fashion…but little else. Simmons was  almost in shock--how could he not remember all the details about these games that Simmons as a fan could remember in vivid comprehensive detail?  But it makes sense.  Jones had a job to do.  He was focused on that job.  He didn’t hear what the announcers were saying, he wasn't listening to the radio or watching TV,  he wasn’t interested in press predictions, he wasn’t privy to what was happening on the opposing bench.  All those things are spectator "things".  And the spectator is going through an entirely different kind of emotional journey.  In fact, you might say that the fan is the only one going through an emotional journey.  

And perhaps there's a lesson there.  Enchantment is more available at a distance.  Deep engagement and involvement often lead to dis-enchantment-- literally.  Coltrane said he had no idea what his music sounded like to listeners who didn't  know what was going through his head. So maybe  the challenge for anyone involved in any pursuit or endeavor is to learn to cultivate a way to retain some degree of disinterested detachment in order to stay connected to the broader meaning and value of what they are doing as seen through the eyes of others.   
Or maybe not...maybe being like Sam Jones is the way to go...do your job, do your best and let the rest take care of itself.  


I just re-read what I've written here and if I'm not mistaken, it sounds a lot like David Brooks.  Good God, what have I become?   Well, too late now, and if nothing else it sure did make my lunch-less lunch hour and a half go by in a hurry. 


 I leave you with another current enchantment.  Anat Cohen...(Here with  Paquito D'Rivera!!)  She can do it all...and plays Choro like she was born in Brazil.