PAWNS AND PUNCHES: THAT'S LIFE

In my ever delusional condition I fancy myself as a snappy-title guy – all my blog titles attesting to this true confession. Today’s title, PAWNS AND PUNCHES: THAT’S LIFE, is in reference to a couple of ideas I’ve added to my program of working with Young Offenders. (In a past blog I bragged about this program addendum as KNIGHTS AND KNOCKS: CHESS AND MUAY THAI MASTERS, August 13, 2018.)

PAWNS AND PUNCHES in reference to the game of Chess and the sport of Muay Thai that I’ve incorporated into our reducing recidivism program for Young Offenders. KNIGHTS AND KNOCKS, I thought was a rather clever reference, but PAWNS AND PUNCHES, is less abstruse, and a better metaphor. I shall explain.

Pawns, having a value of one, are the most common yet least valued pieces in the game of chess.  Chess piece pawns can easily be identified as being the olla podrida, mix of common citizens of any country on our planet. We are merely pawns is a common expression relating the futility of anyone’s real power; that is, anyone who is accursedly competing in the commercial system of our everyday existence. This metaphor of being powerless is commonplace and has been around for some time. You can’t fight city hall … You can’t beat the system … and my favorite, “Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage” (The Smashing Pumpkins).

And now I’ll explain the Punch/es in my snappy title. Punching, I must confess, is my favorite practice in Muay Thai.  (I quite suck at the kicks. I’m just not a kicker. In high school I took some karate and sucked at kicking. As a young man I took karate again and still sucked at kicking.  In the practice of Muay Thai I still suck at kicking.) Punch, as pawn, is a commonplace metaphor relating to our sufferings and routines in life. I’m just punching the old time clock … I don’t want to be anyone’s punching bag … and my favorite, “Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth” (Mike Tyson).

This is all good but how do pawns and punches relate to me, and even more importantly, how do pawns and punches relate to busking?

In my day and evening jobs I am a worker bee or a deck scrubber, either metaphor is apt. In daylight I am under contract working with Young Offenders and in evening light, typically, I am (usually) under contract as an instructor in the Faculty of Psychology. Both of these jobs I love, love, love but both my reflective and introspective self knows that I am still just a rat in a cage. Saying this, dear readers, I AM NOT IN A RAGE!

In phenomenological and delusional fashion I can make perfect sense of my daytime and evening jobs. Working with young offenders has always kept me physically fit. On a previous and similar contract, I had these young guys running outdoors daily, for a minimum of five miles, rain or snow, or shine. Whether the temperature was 30 above or 30 below, we ran. Windy or windless we ran.  And after our run we lifted weights every day save for Friday. Friday we took over the pool and I gave swimming lessons. This was my work-a-day exercise regimen for seven years!

These days I’ve calmed down. We walk to the gym daily, spend a half hour on weights, then practice Muay Thai (punches only), and then shoot some baskets.

In my past contract working with young offenders I introduced Mac computers, which at the time, purportedly were user seductive rather than just user friendly. This second time ‘round with young offenders I’ve introduced the game of Chess and the sport of Muay Thai. I did not know how to play chess but not-so-strangely, so far all of our young offender students do know how to play. They learned the game in custody. Because we are dealing with the highest risk of the young offender population, all of our students have been in custody for at least a few years, and therefore have a few years of chess playing experience. 

Factoid:  Not any of the staff (including me) knew how to play the game of chess, and so we now rely on the students to be actually teaching us. Anthropologist, Margaret Mead, predicted the evolution of a new kind of culture that she called prefigurative.   Her prefigurative culture was one that was future-oriented, and of which the cultural transmission was predominantly from the youth to their elders. In my daytime contract, I am working in a Margaret-Mead-defined prefigurative culture.

Meanwhile … back to busking.

I remind you, readers, that I am but a faux busker; my busking is but a sidequest. By self-design I have temporarily freed myself from the prosaic life among the pawns and the accompanied pedestrian punches. Being a busker I am certainly not representative of the Americano middle-class pawn, and I am certainly not punching the clock. However, one could argue that I am even lower than pawn strata, having to rely mostly on the pawns to toss the coin into my guitar case. And one could also argue that even though I am not punching a clock, I have to be on the clock to strum out a living.  Eking out a living by busking does demand a very middle-class (protestant) work ethic.

PAWNS AND PUNCHES:  THAT’S LIFE reflects one of my favorite adolescent dialogues in the ilk of Samuel Beckett’s theatre of the absurd, of which I studied later in life as an emerging adult in university English literature classes.

“That’s life.”

“What’s life?”

“A magazine.”

“How much does it cost?”

“Ten cents.”

“All I’ve got is five cents.”

“That’s life.”    

Running in my CHAUCERIAN PARADE this week is Gary, my colleague and former NHL’er, who just ran his first marathon.

GARY ON THE RUN

Ever the narcissist, I just had to show off my LITTLE medal, from my first marathon in 1989. 

 

MYSELF AND GARY HOLDING OUR MARATHON MEDALS

MARATHONS are 26 miles. Lifetimes for humans are 100 years, giving (20) or taking (10). Completing a marathon takes an average of four hours (the winners finish in two hours). Completing a life takes an average 78 years for males and 82 years for females. Completing a marathon, the faster you finish the better the performance; completing a life, the slower the finish, the better the performance.

I am 67 years old.  According to the above statistics, I have just 11 years to my finis. 

YIKES … I'D BETTER GET RUNNING!

ANATOMY OF A BUSKER: CAP-A-PIE BODY PARTS

BARON BUSKING AT THE RIDER GAME

Flaunting my busking alterity when solitarily street performing, I actual make a buck or two for what I do.  I am not a brutto-tempo busker -- I am a faux busker.  Only when my world is windless and when the sun is shining and the air is summery am I a busker.  And the physical features I convey whilst I thrum on my 12-string, drone on my didge, or draw portraits are always the same.

Never do I don a cap or any other form of headgear.  I’ve a shock of steel-grey hair and so the sun on my noggin is not an issue.  Factoids:  By design my hair is always messy.  My fashioned look is in line with my notion of the quintessential Bobby Dylan busker.  For more bean information I should also write that I wear black sunglasses, and usually sport a five o’clock shadow.  I love this look and believe that I exhibit and connote emprise, adventure, discovery, and romance for my consumers and other passers-by.

Over my upper torso I always don a white tight T-shirt, and I shall explain why.  I am ruggedly handsome and reside within a ripped body of just nine percent body-fat.  I guess it is rather needless to say that in my busker alterity I am vain and narcissistic.  (These very well could be my principal traits in my auxiliary counselor life, but any breath I take beyond busking such idiosyncrasies certainly are not as apparent.)  I love the testosteronic display of bulging biceps when I slap my guitar strings (I’ve not slapped any leather to date).  I’ve no tattoos -- I’ve ringless fingers and callused fingertips. Furthermore to brag, I do not have a pot for a belly.  This, dear reader, is the skinny why white T’s are my standard upper stock.

Worn and faded Levi blue jeans are my standard lower body stock.  Since the 1800’s Levis have epitomized the American West.  Supporting my rodeo look, looped around my 31 inch waste I cinch a wide leather belt complete with a shiny cowboy buckle to accessorize my buskaroo persona.  Factoid:  I’ve over a thousand busks under my belt and have yet to shoot someone in the back! 

Continuing my deceit and conceit, I have a delusional fancy as being a hatless and horseless cowboy.  I have real roots in Clay County Missouri, and I was shot off a horse while galloping over a bridge on Notekeu Creek.  And so far, this cowpoke misapprehension has served me very well.  (Read more of my cowboy credentials in the margin of this blog.) 

I am a real cowboy just as I am a real busker – I’m not!  

My cap-a-pie base is always size 12, steel-toe, black or brown, high leather work boots.  When busking, rather than pound leather, I pound pavement.  If wishes were horses all beggars would ride, but the side benefit of busking is the walking.  Walking keeps me willowy.  Factoid:  I used to bedeck cowboys boots but it was always a painful experience.  Work boots have become my signature foundation when walking tall in both my cowboy and counselor lives.

To close, Pilgrim, here are my sidekicks riding in this week’s CHAUCERIAN PARADE:

MY NEW COLLEAGUE, JORDAN

MY NEIGHBOR, MOHAMED

CHARLIE AND HIS DOG SHARING MY BUSKSPOT!

JOSEPH AND HIS RAT SHARING MY BUSKSPOT!

THE CHILD FAMILY PORTRAIT:  L-R SELF, NATIKA, EDEN, BARON, CAROL, TRAVERS

KNIGHTS AND KNOCKS: CHESS AND MUAY THAI MASTERS

BRUCE COCKBURN, ELLEN FROESE, AND THE DEEP DARK WOODS

 

REGINA FOLK FESTIVAL

Wandering about the Regina Folk Festival all weekend I had mainly chess and Muay Thai on my mind.  In just a couple weeks I'm introducing KNIGHTS and KNOCKS (chess in the mornings and Muay Thai in the afternoons) as part of our contracted educational mandate to help reduce recidivism among the 17, 18, and 19 year old young offenders in our charge.  Not-so-strangely, I decided I needed a political argument of sorts that would link the two seeming disparate ventures into one common philosophy.  After snapping a couple photos of the Canadian iconic folkster, Bruce Cockburn, I had a flash ... (pun intended).   

To begin, both chess and Muay Thai can easily and simply be conceptualized by a few philosophical perspectives; however, the main emphasis of this essay relates to only a few relevant insights inspired by both practices, maybe even leading my readers and myself to a transformation of views about a variety of complex human phenomena.

Chess is a two-player strategy board game played on a checkered board with 64 squares arranged in an 8×8 grid.  The game of chess is played by millions of people worldwide.  It is generally believed that Chess originated in India sometime before the 7th century.

Muay Thai  is a two-player stand-up of striking fists and feet and with various clinching techniques.  Also known as the Art of Eight Limbs, Muay Thai is characterized by the combined use of fists and feet (as mentioned), but also elbows, knees and shins.  Like chess, Muay Thai, too, is practiced by millions of people worldwide.  Generally it is believed that Muay Thai originated in Siam sometime before the 14^th Century. 

In chess the first thing a student should do is get familiar 

with all of the pieces, and all of the powers and limitations of each of those pieces.  In Muay Thai, the first thing a student should do is learn all of the basic fist and foot movements, and all of the powers and limitations of the specific punches and kicks. 

Analogous to both chess and Muay Thai are the prescribed game plans.   Keep in mind that any plan is better than no plan, but imagining a precise master plan for each match is for pragmatic reasons, too lofty as a goal.  Also keep in mind what Mike Tyson said: “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.” 

Knowing that a master plan is really an employment of several smaller plans is the route to go.  The smaller plans are the pruning plans.  Smaller plans add direction and offer a sense of security. 

Once who you know your opponent is, just know that your opponent, too, will have plans.   Know, too, that for every good plan you have there will be a counter plan from your opponent. The ability to adapt and rethink your plan on the fly is the key to your winning or losing the match.  The faster your plan reacts to change the better your chance for success. 

Knowing and recognizing your opponent’s patterns is very important.  Recognizing patterns can set your plan in motion.  Only by recognizing patterns can will you be able to prune and exert your smaller game plans.

Just be good at what you do.  But being good at what you do takes practice.  Deliver to your opponent all the moves you know that you’re good at.  And the only way to get good is to practice, practice, and practice some more.  Perfect practice makes perfect engineering.  And you need close to perfect engineering to defeat any opponent.

Because you are matched against other humans, blunders are bound to happen. It is important to eye your opponent’s errors, and checking too, yourself, before deciding on counter-moves.  Be aware of the opponents’ patterns of errors, so when you have the chance you can capitalize on them (capitalize being my token sports cliché for today).

In summary, to defeat your opponent in either chess or Muay Thai, it is imperative that your principle tactics include planning, proficiency, practice, and counter-patterns.

If Muay Thai is the art of eight limbs, punches (fists), kicks (feet), elbows, and knees, then chess is the art of twelve limbs, counting fingers and elbows.   (This comparison is lame I know, but in my attempted wit I digress.)

Both endeavors are arts of the mind.  To be a master in either takes both time and talent.  Talent, I’m beginning to believe, is really a synonym for intelligence.

Angela Duckworth of the University of Pennsylvania writes:

Talent … is the rate at which you get better with effort. The rate at which you get better at soccer is your soccer talent. The rate at which you get better at math is your math talent. You know, given that you are putting forth a certain amount of effort. And I absolutely believe—and not everyone does, but I think most people do—that there are differences in talent among us: that we are not all equally talented (Duckworth, 2016).

Aficionados for either chess or Muay Thai seem to rise above the nondescript purpose of being.   Having affinities for either of these practices prompts the stiction to develop personal action signatures for one’s positive and social well-being.

All of the above notions, save for one dissimilarity, can certainly relate to the art and idiosyncrasy of busking.  Planning when and where to busk are essential for success.  The hours when and where the pedestrian are thickest, such as the noon hours at lunch spots and supper hours at grocery outlets, are usually the most lucrative.  Proficiency, too, is important.  One has to play well and present accordingly to make a money-worthy impression.  And to become familiar with when and where and how to busk takes practice, practice, practice.  With regard to counter-patterns, chess and Muay Thai need opponents; busking needs an audience.  This seems the only dissimilarity that distinguishes busking from chess and Muay Thai. 

Time for true confessions:  I assert that I am a busker, not an academic.  Admittedly, I am a faux busker.   I am not a brutto tempo busker; I never freeze or fry because of the weather.  

Certainly, I cannot assert with any conscience that I am a Muay Thai master; I am but a tyro.  And I certainly cannot assert that I am a chess master; I do not even know how to play.  I know only because of the old television western, Have Gun Will Travel, that I recognize Paladin’s trademark, Knight, from his business card and gun holster, as being a chess piece. 

PALADIN

I do fancy myself as a certified and self-described Buskologist, an authority on the art of busking.  Excluding hecklers I never have opponents, only consumers.  And those consumers are continually prompting my game plans.  My master plan is to travel from country to country with my guitar and harp or my didgeridoo or my sketchpad and pencil.  My smaller is always to entertain as best I can.    

Wherever there are crowds is where I busk.  Pedestrian traffic dictates my specific destination, and open roads dictate my romantic and delusional and narcissistic dream of being a planetary busker.
    
Marching in my CHAUCERIAN PARADE this week:

BARON AND I WERE ACTUALLY IN A PARADE THIS WEEK (REGINA EXHIBITION PARADE)

TRAVERS, BARON, AND NATIKA (MY KIDS) CROSSING ABBEY ROAD