Why We Play

By Brian Elder

The spirit to play can not be contained by a shelter in place or stay at home protocol.

With the stay at home orders and the social distancing protocols many of us are getting used to something completely new, life without sports. We have come to realize what a gift, even a luxury, it is to follow, attend, and play our beloved games. In times of crisis it is appropriate for these things to take a back seat, and it was right that with the utmost caution and responsibility that all the major sports organizations and leagues suspended play. There were no games for the St. Louis Cardinals this weekend as they were supposed to open their season on the road in Cincinnati. No basketball brackets to fill out. No end to the winter season sports and no real beginning to the spring season. Frozen. 

We realize it’s not just the “major” sports that have left the arenas. Mizzou’s long distance champion Karissa Schweizer has her Olympic dreams on hold. The women’s hockey team at Ohio State, fresh off their program’s first ever WCHA championship, leaves the rink holding the trophy but without the chance to play Minnesota in the NCAA tournament. On down the line, it is tough to imagine how seniors in college or high school are feeling given how seasons or even athletic careers have come to an end. You can prepare for a game, a tournament, and the chance of victory or defeat. An expected outcome is what makes sports a comforting distraction to the normal routine of life with the presumption that tomorrow you will play again.

For parents and younger kids, the absence of organized sports is pretty tough. Like many other kids, my two boys are upset, settling into the idea of no soccer, no flag football, and no baseball for an unforeseeable time. I know my third grader would like nothing better than to go toe to toe on the playground or in practice with one of his buddies. Adults are in the same boat. I’m longing for my Saturday morning basketball games with fellow teachers and professionals up at school, the south city softball league is on hold, and I can’t tell you how much I miss coaching my youth teams and acting like every play was the end all be all of sports moments.

In the absence we have simplified things down. We go for a family run in the mornings as part of the kids P.E. class, we take a mid-day recess to shoot hoops or ride bikes around the neighborhood, and in the evenings there’s a family wiffle ball game or flag football game. Inside we are going through about every board game we either own or have inherited. We are not alone in this. Looking out across our neighborhood families are out and about. Whole families are kicking soccer balls, jumping on trampolines, going for walks, and playing. The essential truth that we are rediscovering about sports and activities is that they are meant to be played, organized or not, professional or simply the younger siblings (mom and Charlie) versus the older brothers (me and Will).

Isn’t this how it was supposed to be the whole time, a shared experience that brings us together. The spirit to play can not be contained by a shelter in place or stay at home protocol. All of us are now having family game nights via Zoom or Google Hangouts, we are playing darts using online scoring apps, we are sharing recipes and backyard highlights. With the obligatory six feet of caution, the parks and trails are pleasantly occupied for now here in St. Louis. Without a daily top ten in sports, we are making our own. It’s actually nothing new, and as we play we are remembering why we participate in sports in the first place. We are connected back to the games of the past, the horseshoe pits with Grandpa Roy, the riddles and puzzles with Uncle Ed, the hole in one your father-in-law dropped and the celebration dance that ensued.

Uncle George versus Uncle Jim

Before I had a uniform or a league to play in there was one on one with Dad outback or playing a game of catch where I either threw it over his head or short hopped him in the shin or worse. My Uncle George was a heck of a college basketball player, but the New Jersey blacktop battles between him and Uncle Jim were legendary. A family relic is a picture of a jump shot suspended in time. Swish? Block? Foul? Only Uncle Bob, who took the picture, really knows what happened. Those are the plays that stand the test of the time and endure and we can make those plays now even though no one is really keeping the score. Well…, maybe we are keeping score.

Today is my dad’s birthday. In the past that usually means a round of golf. When the travel works out my brother joins us from Minneapolis. How it all unfolds is getting pretty familiar. My brother Sean, plays slow and steady and wins by at least four strokes, Dad brings the club maximum in his bag unveiling a new “flop” shot that he promises would be working fine if we had warmed up properly, and I spray the golf ball all over the course and beyond. I’ve been known to bank shots off the occasional house or moving car. Wii golf will have to suffice this year. The point is we play.

The big takeaway is that while we endure our time cooped up in our homes we have to remember to make a concerted effort to play. We can not wait for the leagues and the seasons to return. They all will eventually. The silver lining is that so many of us are blessed to have the opportunity to grab a ball, a mitt, or your gear of choice and get out there. All of us have the innate desire to play and in doing so we can collectively lift our spirits. I’m planning some wiffle ball this afternoon against my boys, I feel a no-hitter coming. We will be sure to share the highlights. Happy Birthday Dad.

The Space Between Us

By Brian Elder

Confluence is discovered when an idea ignites action, like it did for Tom Lee. It may be setting out against troubled waters or simply sharing a voice in hopes that it resonates a positive meaning for someone else. 

Thanks to the COVID-19 pandemic, I have found myself more frequently on social media. One of the clever features of these sites is that they send you reminders of past trips, events, and the people you have spent time with through the years. I’ll admit I was a bit cynical when pictures of last year’s spring break trip to Memphis, Tennessee (including the picture above) popped up on my home page last week. This year’s break has been defined by social distancing, cancelled trips, suspended activities, and a general anxiety about how we will move forward in uncertain circumstances. For many others issues are far more grim, so I will resist complaining as my family and I hunker down, do our part to protect each other, and get through this challenge. 

Our pictures of Memphis highlighted the duck parade at the Peabody Hotel, the Civil Rights Museum, Beale Street, Sun Studios, and loads of different barbecue restaurants that we continue to debate. We have made the trip from St. Louis before, but to Memphis’s credit, the town continues to supply something new each time we visit. For my two boys, Will (12), and Charlie (9), the highlight of the trip was seeing the Memphis Grizzlies outlast the Houston Rockets in overtime 126-125 despite 57 points from James Harden. Pictures from the game reminded us just how entertaining our first family NBA game was and gave us a bit of basketball nostalgia and good vibes while the courts are currently silent.

The morning of our last day before heading back to St. Louis we decided to walk down along the Mississippi River just south of downtown. My wife and I try to immerse our boys in a bit of the history and culture of the places we visit. It’s their burden as they have two teachers for parents, but they mostly go along with it and they both enjoy learning. The Civil Rights Museum had been deeply moving as we walked in the footsteps of Dr. King and other leaders. However, for me the river is always a constant artifact that navigates the long arc of history. It seemed a fitting end to our time in Memphis, to look towards home as we walked along riverside park. By chance we came across a statue and story that I feel has some wisdom for the here and now. 

The name of the park we visited is Tom Lee Park. It was named for an African-American river worker who witnessed the sinking of the steamboat the U. S. Norman in 1925. Despite not knowing how to swim, Tom Lee repeatedly rowed his skiff “Zev” into the turbulent Mississippi waters and rescued 32 people from drowning. Lee, who passed away in 1952, became a local legend and Memphis erected a monument in his honor in 1954. A more fitting and inspiring statue was completed by artist David Alan Clark in 2006. That is the statue pictured above. Up close it is vivid and personal as you walk right beneath Lee and his boat imagining that he is reaching out to save you.

Scrolling across this picture made me pause for a moment this past weekend. The two hands reaching out to one another held at bay by what separates them seems to define these days of social distancing. Yes, we are apart, but that does not mean we can not follow the actions of Tom Lee. We can still reach out to one another with an open heart if not an open hand. That is my ideal as I begin teaching my students in a distance learning environment. The composer Claude Debussy said that, “music is the space between the notes.” Around the world we are all sharing in this challenge together and the space between us, while from one perspective divides us, it also is what binds us to each other. It is up to us to fill it with music.

This blog, From the Confluence began as an idea to investigate the diversity of music and individual musicians that have crossed paths in St. Louis, Missouri. It also pays tribute to the geographic identity of our town nestled beneath the meeting place of the Missouri and Mississippi rivers. More than this, From the Confluence seeks to explore all the channels by which we are connected through education, culture, art, history, sports, and so on. Confluence is discovered when an idea ignites action, like it did for Tom Lee. It may be setting out against troubled waters or simply sharing a voice in hopes that it resonates a positive meaning for someone else. 

Looking back at our pictures I am reminded that life along the river is often filled with a slow and steady consistency. The ebb and flow of the winter to the spring, the summer’s warmth that leads to harvest. Baseball season. We can become complacent and nestled into our routines and comforts. Yet, the floods will rise and inevitably the river brings forth turmoil and challenge, a ship in distress. That day in 1922, Tom Lee did not know that he was destined to witness the river’s fury, but he did not run. Instead he went forward into the waters. In times like that, in times like this, the only way to go is forward one step, one day at a time. There is uncertainty, but there is also the confluence and the assurance that you are not alone.