Dear Matza brothers,
Just a short note to say how wonderful it was spending time with all my Jewish brethren this past shabbas. Kibbitzing, kvetching, and schlepping our tuchuses around the field was a joy to be part of.
So we lost. It occurs to me it happens every three years. Maybe it is meant to be, like the temple being destroyed periodically, so that we may strive to get stronger, avoid complacency, rise up together, and strike back with blunt intention.
I, for one, found this defeat to be bitter, but not in a lasting way. Soon after the game was over, my old friend Gus came up to me and asked what was up. It went kind of like this:
Gus: "so Barkan, did ya have a good time playing?"
Me: "yeah, except I was only about 90% and we lost, choked it away"
Gus: "well you had your chances, but, hey, how many times have you guys won this tourney?"
Me: "we've won four out of six tries"
Gus: "that's a lot better than almost all of the people at this tournament, hell, most don't even know what it's like to play in the finals..."
Any frustration I was feeling pretty much dissipated. He had a point. We are lucky, or fortunate, to have won so many times, to have had so much fun, and to know that we can come back and have a great shot at winning it again.
Besides, the path is always more meaningful than arriving at the destination (just ask Ricky and his box). The joke telling, enthusiastic cheers, and spirited dancing reached new highs this year, and I thank you all for making it so.
I'd like to acknowledge the heart that people put into the team, from bringing gatorade, macaroons, cheers, bagels, jokes, and the Jewish part of themselves that may not get much attention most of the year.
I hope those who go to Potlatch carry the tradition of excellence and brother and sisterhood, and give us more to kvel about.
BTW, if the little pickle incident stuck in your craw, not to worry, it's part of our fuel for next year. Ve'll be back!
Shalom