The Pull and The Fall

 HS #88 2022.11.10

 

The Pull and The Fall

 

Ideas for these monthly columns are often inspired by a confluence of events. Such happened last month. The Fall (the Biblical depiction of the origin of human evil and pain) was on my mind while writing a column on Genesis. (See timothypennings.blogspot.com)  I penned,  “As with Icarus, humans sought to fly too high, to know more than was intended and instructed, causing a cascade of calamity.” 

 

The second event was watching the grueling last half hour of “The Pull” of Hope College. I’ve regularly attended this event since coming to Hope in 1988. Until recently, it was held on the two – usually muddy – sides of the Black River. The new location, on East 11^th Street by the DeVos Field House, loses some of the ambiance, but compensates by allowing spectators to easily watch both teams. 

 

Since the Even Year team runs by my house on East 12^th Street for three weeks of multi-hour practices, they are my default favorite. The male chorus of chants has been enriched by higher-pitched female voices as modern sensibilities affect even this century-old tradition. 

 

Over the years I have learned various stories from pullers. My favorite is that during the first week of intense training – including hundreds of sit ups and push-ups – the pullers are promised a day of recreation at the beach the coming Saturday. Arriving ready for sun and surf, they are then directed to continue training by carrying each other up the dunes. 

 

True or not, I believe the claim that for most of these students, the three weeks of Pull practice is, bar none, the most intense and single-focused physical endeavor they have ever experienced. Their raw hands, strained voices, and cramped legs are all testament to giving this team effort their all. 

 

Thus, I choked up at the conclusion when, standing on the Even Side, I heard the junior year coach announce to the exhausted team, “You have done all we have asked and expected. You have carried on the great tradition and have made us coaches, the Even Year alumni, and Hope College proud. You have done your very best, and you - - are victorious!” It was a speech worthy of Vince Lombardi and similar to Marshall’s commendation of Eisenhower. 

 

After enjoying their celebration for a few minutes, I shifted to the Odd Year side. I expected to find low spirits, but was unprepared for the tears and genuine heartache. I’ll not forget the look of shock, despondency and loss as they consoled each other with long embraces. During the final minutes of the event, I overheard a student spectator remark, “What’s it like to spend three hours pulling on a rope – and then lose?” Indeed!

 

These students didn’t know it, but they just experienced the Fall. Both sides. I didn’t understand the richness of the Fall until reading C.S. Lewis’s “The Space Trilogy.” He explores, as only Lewis can through fiction, that, yes, the Fall brought misery and heartache, but, living through and conquering those challenges adds richness and purpose to our lives. As per ABC’s Wide World of Sports, there is no thrill of victory unless there is also agony of defeat. 

 

And these students are getting just a taste of what’s to come – the thrill of marriage, the agony of conflict and divorce, the thrill of child birth, the agony of health issues, the thrill of new jobs, the agony of layoffs. Is the Fall then a curse or a disguised blessing? It’s both. 

 

Beautiful patterns on diamond willow walking sticks are the result of infection in the wood. A broken bone heals stronger. Mutations, while usually harmful to the individual, are beneficial to the species since the species can then survive changing environments. (For more examples, read “Antifragile”). U2’s Bono in his new memoir, “Surrender” explains it was the loss of his mother that led to his life of creative brilliance.  Someone has noted that in the centuries during which turbulent war-torn Italy gave the world unsurpassed music and art, placid, staid Switzerland produced  - - the cuckoo clock. 

 

There’s a story about an Irishman who, exiting a pub and seeing two men slugging it out, taps one on the shoulder and asks, “Is this a private fight or can anyone join?” Some enjoy the fight. 

 

Indeed, the richness of striving, of struggling, of laying oneself bare with no guarantee of victory – this is the legacy of the Fall. A tough life – I’d have no other.