"The Man Watching"

By Rainer Maria Rilke:

I can tell by the way the trees beat, after

So many dull days, on my worried windowpanes

that a storm is coming.

and I hear the far-off fields say things

I can't bear without a friend,

I can't love without a sister.

The storm, the shifter of shapes, drives on

across the woods and across time,

and the world looks as if it had no age:

the landscape, like a line in the psalm book,

is seriousness and weight and eternity.

What we choose to fight is so tiny!

What fights with us is so great!

If only we would let ourselves be dominated

as things do by some immense storm,

we would become strong too, and not need names.

When we win it's with small things,

and the triumph itself makes us small.

What is extraordinary and eternal

does not want to be bent by us.

I mean the Angel who appeared

to the wrestlers of the Old Testament:

when the wrestler's sinews

grew long like metal strings,

he felt them under his fingers

like chords of deep music.

Whoever was beaten by this Angel

(who often simply declined to fight)

went away proud and strengthened

and great from that harsh hand,

that kneaded him as if to change his shape.

Winning does not tempt that man.

This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively,

by constantly greater beings.

The room falls silent.  Some of the young women stare up at Dorrance while some others nervously peek at each other.  Dorrance tells his players that the poem epitomizes the UNC program's philosophy that even in the wake of a national championship, there is still room for growth.  Keep pushing.  Don't quit.  Take responsibility.  Ascend never-endingly.  And if you ever become afraid of failing to become everything you've always dreamed, think about this poem.  Dorrance tells them that the way to keep growing is not by winning, but instead by being defeated, decisively, by constantly greater aspirations.  The older players, who have heard this poem before, nod in recognition and whisper to the younger ones that they will try to explain it to them later. 

 There is a simple yet profound lesson that I learned as a teenager from a brilliant algebra teacher that I had in my sophomore year at my boys' boarding school in Switzerland.  I didn't realize it at the time, but this math teacher inspired me and has affected the way I've thought for the rest of my life.  On the first day of class he said, "I am giving you a homework assignment and I'll give you one day to do it.  You will be graded on this assignment and you can select to do it or not.  If you select not to do it, don't worry about it.  I'm not going to reprimand you.  Just make sure that whatever you do in place of the math homework is something you value more than getting an F on the assignment.  Please understand that I don't expect you guys to always turn homework in.  If you're having a rollicking good time or you think you're doing something that genuinely has greater value to you than a math assignment, please do it.  Over the course of the year, you've got a hundred homework assignments, so it's not going to affect your grade that much if you miss one or two.

 We thought that teacher was full of it, and we decided to test him and not do our homework.  He never reprimanded any of us, never treated any of us differently if we didn't turn something in.  And then one day it dawned on me what he was really trying to teach us.  It's a tremendous lesson.  How you choose to spend your time every day is going to shape who you are.