We all know, deep in our hearts, that virtue consists of all and only those things that David Robinson tried to teach us back in the day. The gnomes, Tim, are out of bounds. Not the flowers. The gnomes. The - the occult, Tim. Out of bounds. And building a school is a pretty cool thing to do too. But in the weeping moments, I sometimes crave more than what is written in the interviews and coded in the highlights. What does the Admiral think about the scaffold, for example? Where is his wisdom then?
Now, David Robinson is omnibenevolent, but certainly not omniscient - he is obviously not watching you watch his Hall of Fame speech or his old highlights; he is not so vain or idle. But while he does not see everything, he can be channeled to be anywhere. And I performed just such a channeling the other day.
That great Spurs player and school-builder appeared in a greatcoat outside my apartment - here in freezing, snowy St. Petersburg. Only Mr. Robinson's iconic face was visible through the black cloak, which was neatly ornamented with golden buttons like a constable's uniform. It looked somehow oversized, like a child's costume. This great figure was capped by a black hat shaped like a basketball court that made perfect sense when I saw it. With fast wit, I commented how GREAT his greatcoat was. He showed me that, face excepted, he was made totally of greatcoats. A mass of greatcoats, everstacked and interleaved like a planar knot. The heavy and stacked greatcoats were without flesh or form, just as Robinson himself was without malice. We were beyond the concerns of the physical world and its harsh winters. His face beamed and the winter went away.
"Where did you get all those coats, Mr. Robinson? I'd imagine it's hard to find 7-foot greatcoats, even in Russia!"
"They are all mine originally, from my wardrobe. Every coat I have ever owned is represented. Heh, but call me David."
"Okay, David. But let's not dance around the issue. I summoned you to tell me what true virtue is, Mr. - David. Would you please help me?"
"Alright, kid. Dennis Rodman may take the rebounds, but the Rodman that rebounds is not the Pippen that creates. The admirable center must not power forward. The guard that points must not shoot. You must always respect your family...."
"That's just nonsensical ranting, David."
"Heh, yeah. In '97, Tim asked me a similar question. If I remember right, he let me go on for a good 20 minutes because he thought I was serious. Ha! It took me another hour to convince him that I was joking. You like Duncan, right?"
"Yes..."
"Who's your favorite Spur?"
"Uh...both....of....you?"
"Excellent answer. But I still say Tim Duncan. Did you know he beat me in a 2 v 2 on the roof of the AT&T center? We all wore crowns. The teams were...let's see...Duncan's wife and myself against my son and Tim Duncan. I don't know why we chose those teams."
Suddenly the chiasmic incomprehensibility of the teams increased his smile 71 sizes. I was struck with a thought: The world must be a sort of Cheshire cat when The Admiral is around, with the man himself as the smile. I hope the world never totally disappears! I was confused and happy, but in my euphoria I misspoke, and accidentally gave the impression of impatience.
"So -"
"So then I told him the same thing I'm telling you. Virtue is not just the things that I say, Alex. The things that I say are part of it, for sure, but virtue is about following wisdom, and wisdom requires understanding. You have to be able to tease the difficult things out from people to find out what they're about. You have to find the rare words, Alex, that fit the people you love. You have to find the universal Word of God even after its vocalization has been made hoarse and tired and distorted by its medium."
"I...I understand, David."
"If you summon me again I will use a sphere metaphor, because once I was stuck inside a sphere. It's a long story. But don't summon me again for a month at least - you have no idea the airfare."
Then his face disappeared. I surely would summon him again, I thought, as the coats collapsed into a heap and then also disappeared. I had learned my lesson, though, and no longer would I try to play God in my own life. For God is like the David Robinson of life: there is only one, and no one else should even try.
Now, David Robinson is omnibenevolent, but certainly not omniscient - he is obviously not watching you watch his Hall of Fame speech or his old highlights; he is not so vain or idle. But while he does not see everything, he can be channeled to be anywhere. And I performed just such a channeling the other day.
That great Spurs player and school-builder appeared in a greatcoat outside my apartment - here in freezing, snowy St. Petersburg. Only Mr. Robinson's iconic face was visible through the black cloak, which was neatly ornamented with golden buttons like a constable's uniform. It looked somehow oversized, like a child's costume. This great figure was capped by a black hat shaped like a basketball court that made perfect sense when I saw it. With fast wit, I commented how GREAT his greatcoat was. He showed me that, face excepted, he was made totally of greatcoats. A mass of greatcoats, everstacked and interleaved like a planar knot. The heavy and stacked greatcoats were without flesh or form, just as Robinson himself was without malice. We were beyond the concerns of the physical world and its harsh winters. His face beamed and the winter went away.
"Where did you get all those coats, Mr. Robinson? I'd imagine it's hard to find 7-foot greatcoats, even in Russia!"
"They are all mine originally, from my wardrobe. Every coat I have ever owned is represented. Heh, but call me David."
"Okay, David. But let's not dance around the issue. I summoned you to tell me what true virtue is, Mr. - David. Would you please help me?"
"Alright, kid. Dennis Rodman may take the rebounds, but the Rodman that rebounds is not the Pippen that creates. The admirable center must not power forward. The guard that points must not shoot. You must always respect your family...."
"That's just nonsensical ranting, David."
"Heh, yeah. In '97, Tim asked me a similar question. If I remember right, he let me go on for a good 20 minutes because he thought I was serious. Ha! It took me another hour to convince him that I was joking. You like Duncan, right?"
"Yes..."
"Who's your favorite Spur?"
"Uh...both....of....you?"
"Excellent answer. But I still say Tim Duncan. Did you know he beat me in a 2 v 2 on the roof of the AT&T center? We all wore crowns. The teams were...let's see...Duncan's wife and myself against my son and Tim Duncan. I don't know why we chose those teams."
Suddenly the chiasmic incomprehensibility of the teams increased his smile 71 sizes. I was struck with a thought: The world must be a sort of Cheshire cat when The Admiral is around, with the man himself as the smile. I hope the world never totally disappears! I was confused and happy, but in my euphoria I misspoke, and accidentally gave the impression of impatience.
"So -"
"So then I told him the same thing I'm telling you. Virtue is not just the things that I say, Alex. The things that I say are part of it, for sure, but virtue is about following wisdom, and wisdom requires understanding. You have to be able to tease the difficult things out from people to find out what they're about. You have to find the rare words, Alex, that fit the people you love. You have to find the universal Word of God even after its vocalization has been made hoarse and tired and distorted by its medium."
"I...I understand, David."
"If you summon me again I will use a sphere metaphor, because once I was stuck inside a sphere. It's a long story. But don't summon me again for a month at least - you have no idea the airfare."
Then his face disappeared. I surely would summon him again, I thought, as the coats collapsed into a heap and then also disappeared. I had learned my lesson, though, and no longer would I try to play God in my own life. For God is like the David Robinson of life: there is only one, and no one else should even try.
This is maybe the most fun, accessible, short piece I've done on Pearls of Mystery. It's certainly one of my favorites.
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