SPYY – Technology for Players

good horses and bad horses

while driving to an aikido seminar yesterday, i remembered an old description of japanese horsemanship which i read a long time ago.

i’m paraphrasing: ‘it can be said that there are four types of horses: excellent, good, poor, and bad. the best kind of horse will run or stop at the command of his rider even before he sees the shadow of the whip. a good horse will respond immediately at the crack of the whip before he feels any pain. the poor horse will react to some measure of physical pain, and if the worst kind of horse reacts at all, he will do so only when the pain of the whip has sunk into the very marrow of his bones.’

almost all of us would prefer to think of ourselves as the ‘best kind of horse’; as ‘excellent’. failing that, we’d like to be ‘good’, and so on. this is just as true of players as any other pastime or profession. it’s totally natural to do so, because our society tells us that our worth is linked to our achievement; to our product. what is the ‘product’ of our sport, however? how do you measure it? by a trick list some other player compiled? by your placing in a contest as judged by other players? i think that no extrinsic standard will ever feel wholly valid and unassailable. your skill is just as good as you feel it is as you do it; just as worthwhile and fulfilling.

i don’t know that the stratification of excellent to bad is really the best way to think about things like throwing. no one wants to feel ‘bad’, but in many respects, it’s best to see oneself as the poorest manner of horse, because that horse allows for the most room to grow; the most reason to practice.

some players have tremendous innate ability. within a few weeks of first picking up a throw, they have already made outstanding progress, and are working on tricks that many players would consider to be ‘advanced’. to believe that one’s skill is dictated solely by the perceived level of the tricks we can complete, however, is an empty hoax. the manner and attitude you demonstrate in your practice matters as well. your true skill is composed of all of the time and experience that has gone into your play, period. if after a great amount of time, you are still working on basic tricks, this does not mean that you are a ‘poor’ player. in aikido, we work on ‘kihon waza’ (basics) every class. a sensei distinguishes himself from a novice by the energy and conviction he applies to the basics, and in his reasons for doing them. the only way to become a truly ‘excellent’ player (or anything) is to fulfill your personal potential, and if you think about that reasonably, it’s something that no one can really accomplish subjectively. there’s always something new to learn and pursue.

the important thing is to shed your qualitative understanding concerning your yo-yoing; that you find a way through ‘good’ and ‘bad’. if you’re throwing, and you forget about ‘good’ and ‘bad’, then i think you’re looking at it in a productive way. you should continue practicing and continue growing… but to believe that your play is only worthwhile if you achieve this or that end is a fool’s errand. a person who believes himself to be a ‘good, complete player’ is really quite the opposite, since there will be no need to continue to grow. we may need this or that challenge in order to ‘convince’ us to practice, but it’s the practice (and not the product) of yo-yoing that’s most meaningful. in this way, it could be said that practice is, itself, completion. we throw not for the purpose of ‘getting good’ somewhere down the road under some unknowable future sunset, but for the purpose of throwing, itself. whether you’re a a good horse or a poor horse, take joy in YOUR sport, such as it is.

play now, and in so doing, be complete.