Sports

In recent years, a growing number of Westerners have been fascinated by accounts of Eastern masters who offer their students years and years of goal-less practice. In the book Zen In The Art of Archery, for example, a goal-oriented German philosopher named Eugene Herngel tells of spending a whole year under a Japanese master’s tutelage just learning how to breathe correctly while drawing the bow and then spending the next four years learning to loose the arrow — without once trying to hit the target.

There’s a paradox here. One who renounces immediate goals for the sake of diligent practice generally ends up reaching higher goals than one who shoots for quick results. One who takes the path of mastery is likely to end up a winner more often than one who thinks about nothing but scoring points. But winning for a true master isn’t something to use as fuel for a depleted ego or to gloat about with cries of ‘number one’. It’s simply part of a process that began long ago that will continue as long as life goes on.

Designed to help you prepare your next big race. It's greatly inspired by Giovanni Tanda's formula, and Christof's amazing CR plots. The code is over at GitHub.

Run a single loop measuring 4.16667 miles within a single hour. Now do it again. And again. Now keep doing it – starting a new loop on the hour, regardless of how fast you finish the previous one – until there’s only one runner willing or capable of doing so. Welcome to the simple – some might say sadistic – concept of the Big Dog Backyard Ultra in Bedford County, Tennessee.

A book about the University of Washington eight-oared rowing crew that represented the United States in rowing at the 1936 Summer Olympics – Men's eight in Berlin, and narrowly beat out Italy and Germany to win the gold medal.

I just hate watching the modern NBA, where teams have made the correct tactical decision to just launch and launch and launch three-pointers and in so doing made the project frequently unwatchable. A three-heavy offense is inherently a decision to trade shooting percentage for overall efficiency; coaches and GMs expect misses, even welcome misses, so long as the team is constantly shooting from behind the line. Again, to be clear, I’m not doubting that this is a good strategy. I am doubting that it’s any fun to watch.

...Objectively, this is all very effective. Aesthetically, it’s a mess.

You wrote that sports often teaches students how to be a team member and coordinate with others. True enough, but I think there is a more important educational benefit from sports that does not require team participation or competition nor risk injury. That is learning to be coachable. Historically coaching was a fundamental part of higher education. In English universities, coaches are called tutors. Elsewhere they were/are known as mentors and guides. Being coachable or mentorable is one of the most valuable traits of students and adults, whether as a solo practitioner, group leader, or team member.

This was 1982, the year that Gary Thomasson was batting cleanup for the Yomiuri Giants. Thomasson had the unfortunate nickname of "The Electric Fan", which, if you think about it, was exactly what he was. Night after night, he stood in the batter's box, whiffing mightily at the ball, down on three strikes every time. He had a fully-formed body and yet served no purpose to the world. And the Giants were still paying a mint to keep him there. It was a beautiful thing. I'm not being ironic here either. Seriously, I can't think of any way to describe Gary Thomasson but as "living hyperart".