Life is the United Effort of Many
Swen Nater

I still have my Miyata ten speed. It has a 27” frame. If you know your bikes, you’ll know that’s huge. But I still look really big on it. One day, an experienced rider (you know; the ones with the spandex clothes and the aerodynamic helmets to match) passed me and said, “I’ve never seen a bike that big.” He was nice. But, I have to tell you; most of the time those “Gucci riders” are down-right stuck up. I know I don’t wear the gear or have a $1,000 paper-thin bike like they do but, when one is going the opposite way of me, and we pass each other and I wave, most of them don’t even acknowledge me. 

Oh wait a minute! My bad. How could I be so dumb? Because they’re wearing the right gear, go twice as fast as I do, spend a fortune on equipment, and are training for a mini-triathlon or something, I, on my antique Miyata, must be a lower form of life. Well, excuse me!

Actually, I don’t care, but it’s a good way to lead in to what I want to write about. All over this world, there are people who have the audacity to think they’re better than others. They really believe the world can’t do without them and would be a better place without some other people. They believe they should be first in line, have preferred parking spots, be able to go faster on the freeway, and that others should serve them. How did their heads get so big? Who told them God thinks they’re special?

One of the most powerful statements I heard Coach Wooden say was, “Life is the united effort of many.” That means we’re all in this together. Like Coach’s dad told him, “You are no better than anyone and no one is better than you.”

In my twelve years as a pro basketball player, the saddest thing I saw was how the coaches and players treated the trainers. Trainers tape your ankles, rehabilitate your injuries, keep stats during games, make all the travel arrangements for the team, and manage the trips from beginning to end, including carrying bags and heavy equipment. They are the most unappreciated members of a team. But what I saw went far beyond unappreciative. I saw players and coaches treat trainers as if they were servants, slaves, and gophers. “He Larry, get me a towel will ya?”

I suppose as a player or coach, it’s easy to think of yourself as a higher form of life than a trainer. It’s easy to leave your towel on the ground, after showering, instead of putting it in the locker room laundry bag. It’s easy to order the trainer to get you a cup of Gatorade instead of getting it yourself. After all, their paychecks barely pay the rent while yours is enough to buy the house they’re renting. After all, the fans don’t pay to see the trainer treat injuries or keep stats. It’s probably even worse today.

Well, let me say this; Coach Wooden made us treat our managers and trainers like equals. He made us clean our locker room, home and away, so the only work left to be done was vacuum and wash the shower walls. Coach threatened to cut off our rations of orange juice after practice, if he found one more container not in a trashcan. Coach cleaned up his hotel room when checking out so it looked almost like when he entered it. He believed everyone to be equal to him. He believed he was part of “The team of life.”

I’ve got to say it; I don’t care how great these professional players think they are. I don’t care how many autographs they sign or refuse to sign. I don’t care how many interviews they get. I don’t care how many commercials they do. I don’t care how much money they make, how many cars they own, or butlers they have. As far as greatness, none of them are in the same league as my coach. If anyone had the right to act arrogant, haughty, or puffed-up, it was Coach Wooden. Yet he believed he was no better than anyone else, not after the first championship, not after the tenth, not after being named Coach of the Century or after any of the hundreds of awards and titles people have bestowed upon him.

I guess this is what I want to say: If Coach believed life was the united effort of many, and that means everyone in this world has an equal right to be here and has equal value in the eyes of God, who am I to say different?

If the weather will permit tomorrow (I live in Seattle so that’s a huge “IF”), I’m going to ride my Miyata. And when one of those perfectly-outfitted cyclists and I pass each other and he ignores me, I’m going to yell, “Life is the united effort of many, don’t you think?”

 
The Fly
Swen Nater

I woke up with the sun and found my nook.
The roasted coffee steaming from my cup,
The pillowed chair so soft it drank me up,
I opened up a very prom’sing book.

But then a common fly buzzed by my ear.
Audaciously, he landed on the page.
He knew not of the swatter or my rage,
And blithely looked up without a fear.

He was so much like me, that little fly.
I left the swatter down beside the chair,
And saw a friend perched on the book page there,
Who had a right to live as much as I.

(By the way, that poem is in iambic pentameter and an ABBA rhyme pattern, something those spandex peddlers wouldn’t know anything about. So there.)