Dignity, perfection and the missing cheerleaders

Seems every year I watch more of the NFL. This year's games have me thinking about two things, neither of which is cheerleaders.

First: dignity. The celebrations, pushing matches, whining to the refs, the commercials (oh my, the commercials), the absurd pageantry: there is, really, very little dignity in professional football.

Second: perfection. Football can no longer be played reliably on a turf field: turf muddies and is uneven. Most teams, it seems, play on something artificial, probably laser leveled. Commentators speak endlessly about perfection of timing in the passing game. Football is described in absolutes. Chains measure progress on fixed markers (which you can be granted a free time out to have exactingly paced off in some circumstances.) And the replay review. Two feet, no bobble, specific rules around control, placement, knee down before the ball slips? So fine tuned, the human eye at real speed is insufficient. High speed photography is employed, instead.

And this seems to be the summary of modern politics as well. Dignity? Ha. Perhaps from a few of the best tier of politicians but certainly not from the machinery or noise surrounding them.

But perfection? Here's what I mean: each suggestion must be perfect or it is ridiculed. Each word carefully chosen or picked apart in the great cog of dissonance. Every slogan protected. Every sentence enunciated. Every estimate must declared fact or it is unworthy of consideration.

When we live and work with dignity, our bearing, our character, our words, our actions all inform the perception of our intentions. And we are allowed a grace, a continuum of trust, to continue and improve our works. Our character is at least an equal measure of our result.

I ponder that a culture that favored a little more dignity and a little less perfection might allow a more evolutionary and practical path to achievements in discourse and public policy.

Perhaps our games mirror our values in this regard.