Monday, November 22, 2010

Tiger and Me

Often I am at warehouses where fork lift operators must load goods into my truck.
I can always tell the new ones.
Those that have been at it awhile zip, fly, scoop and push as if the machine had veins and nerves in sync with the operator.
The new ones bang, bump, drop, jerk and mostly just look pathetic as everyone within thirty feet run for cover.
There's really nothing to it, you can't really hurt anything. it's just the difference between fear and confidence.
All mental.
I've seen truck drivers that could weave through traffic like a nurse shark in a coral reef. Damn near pretty.
But one day they screw up. They take out the old lady's fender on the brown Buick and everything changes.
Their eyes change, they shake just a bit when things get sticky. They get out and look when backing cuz they're just not sure. Sometimes they never make it back.
It can happen to anyone; baseball players, politicians, teachers, bankers after one too many bad loans.
Even Tiger Woods.
Something happens and the magic's all gone.
Where they could once do no wrong, they now can do no right.
And it's all mental. All fear and confidence.
I never took out that bumper and I never could hit a golf ball straight anyway.
But I understand.
And the harder you try to recover the magic, the farther away it drifts.
Sometimes, the only choice left is to lay it down and walk away.

I could use some magic
I remember the coral reef
When I almost admired my own shadow
in never missing a turn
but sometimes
when it's gone
it's gone
Tiger may never break Jack's record
and my shadow
settles still to the sand