Michael ‘Burnsie’ Burns
Columnist
There is a purpose to the long tradition of ‘consequences’ on men’s teams. It isn’t a punishment, a way to pay for a
mistake. Rather, it is to learn from, and change, a behavior.
And in any case this merely mirrors life where there are always consequences. Consequences for not keeping my word; for not being authentic; for not being supportive or supportable; and for being STUPID.
But consequences are not always handled well on teams, and are not always offered as a gesture of support from the men. I was lucky enough to learn from men who did it right.
In the ’90s a leadership council formed in central Long Island. The first time we met I was two minutes late. Chalk it up to the Long Island Railroad but two minutes is two minutes and I was late. Forty pushups was the consequence.
I hate pushups and I suck at them, too. But after struggling through about twenty, a few men went beyond verbal encouragement. They grabbed my belt and made sure I got through the whole thing.
I was supported to succeed and, no doubt, would be supported to succeed in the future. I, at least, was determined not to be late again. Ever.
Then again, recently I was riding my bicycle while monkeying with my phone. Bang! I hit a tree and ended up hospitalized with a collapsed lung.
Now, be on time is a clear, simple, black-and-white standard. You uphold it or you don’t.
One such involves my wife’s blood and immune system, which has been seriously compromised for the past five years. Any type of pathogen is very dangerous and, as her husband, I’m the most likely potential vector. Minimizing my exposure to people from whom I can catch some kind of illness – any kind of illness – is a more complicated and serious commitment. In this case, the consequence of failure go far beyond a few pushups: they could be catastrophic.
Of course, it’s not possible never to be exposed to something that could give her a cold, the flu, covid, or worse. But it is possible to be impeccable in my precautions. And yet, though I’m afraid of the consequences, I don’t always wear a mask in public. I don’t always avoid being near people. Living in fear that I am not giving my best, and that I am endangering her: those are my consequences.
The simple lessons have been learned: don’t be late and stay off the Long Island Railroad when time matters.
But the less obvious, more complex lessons, with vastly more dangerous, yet more abstract consequences, have not.
Be that as it may, damn right I’m staying off my phone while riding and I’m not going to be late.
