I Love to Dance

There aren’t many things more beautiful than a dance. The balance, grace, the execution of practiced technique. Then there’s the subtle side. The deception, misleading, fooling of the opponent. With a combination of some or all of these, it’s just you and the ball, and an open goal.

It wouldn’t be exciting if it weren’t a challenge. Dancing up the court alone with the ball gets old after a while, but if you’ve got four guys trying to take it from you, and only your own skills and teammates to rely on... there’s the beauty of it.

You empty your mind of plans and just react to whatever comes. There is no conscious thought as your body moves, yet your feet know exactly where the ball is, and they direct its course. There is no consciousness of the passing of time, yet after the play you can watch the whole thing in your head in slow motion. There is deep satisfaction here.

Why is this dance so attractive? Why do I look forward to it so much, the brightest part of my week? If you step back, it seems a little bit ludicrous. Put a round rubber object into a square. Yay. I suppose a lot of things are like that in life. Silly really, yet profound.

I wonder what part the competition aspect has to do with making the game somehow worthwhile. I’d feel comfortable calling it a fight. A civilized one to be sure, with rules and boundaries, but you’ve got your teammates and you’ve got the enemy.

Whatever the case, the Brazilians have it right. It’s a beautiful game.