Sharing

There was sport on TV, which can never be a bad thing, and we were watching together. Laetitia had been in other rooms. We had eaten together and she had brought me a bowl of ice cream (she had one too), then she was away, doing something else, plotting, planning, making a list of some kind or watching Pride And Prejudice on another TV or perhaps doing some combination of all of those things. But she came back into the lounge room, when it got exciting, and we watched the NRL finals match together. At one point I stood up, and came quite close to kicking something after a very frustrating turn of events in the match, and after that stood for some time, as it didn’t feel right to sit down. It was too tense. Well, I was tense anyway.

And we won. The details are unimportant, but the result could have gone either way right up until the last moment (in fact it ended in extra time). It was a good feeling. A surge of calm began its slow passage through my tightened muscles. Laetitia asked if I was excited and told me I should be excited because it was exciting – and there was no doubt about this – but for me the prevailing feeling was, and often is, relief. Not so much celebration but satisfaction that an opponent has been vanquished, acknowledgement that your team could very easily have been the one to lose, and facing head on (with a certain dreadful reality dawning) that you have to do it all again next weekend, and the weekend after, if you are to win the competition. Yes, it’s the team which does the playing and the winning and losing, but we lose with them as fans when they lose and win with them when they win, and we go through our own emotions as well, the ups and downs – hopefully more ups then downs – and with any luck we will experience elation, our very own brand of elation, individually experienced, when our team wins the big match on the final day of the season.

I have been criticised before for not seeming happy enough after a sporting or other victory, and it isn’t really possible to be objective about what happens in a situation like this, except to say that we all have our own reaction when something good or something bad happens.

For me, it’s often important to be alone, or to live through the moment in my own way. Some of the greatest times of my life have been in crowds celebrating the almost unbearable joy of an unexpected win, so I’m not immune to it, and I can be overcome with emotion to see the reactions of people in a crowd on the TV, to see what it means to them, to see their happy faces.

And I think this sometimes isolated emotional reaction is something which occurs in areas of my life outside the realm of sporting fandom. As a kid I recall hearing people talking about the emotional nature of certain pieces of classical music and the effect they felt when listening, and I recall feeling unwilling to ever admit to these feelings, instead wishing to feel what I felt for myself and by myself and without the necessity to communicate it to others. It may even be that this unwillingness to put into words and explain to another person an emotional reaction, but instead just experience it, is linked to my relative inability to make sensible and useful comments in an informed critical way about the books or stories I have read or films I’ve seen (although I’m working on this). The fact remains that I do have reasonable taste, but it’s a gut reaction mostly, and I sometimes don’t know why something is good or why it appeals to me. I just know that it’s well done.

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Published in: on September 22, 2014 at 8:35 pm  Comments (2)  

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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. But you HAVE just shared. Now everyone who reads this blog will know how you feel about about how you feel. 🙂

  2. Very true. Problems can arise after the event though, when I’m not sure if I agree with something I wrote, even if it’s about me. And then it all becomes so insufferably navel-gazing and it doesn’t matter what I think any more anyway.

    Apologies for the above nonsense.

    And thank you for your comment. I don’t normally respond so tardily.


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