Hoosiers is a feel good movie. Worth watching again and again. A David versus Goliath story about a small-town Indiana  high-school basketball team that wins the state championship. (The story is loosely based on the Milan High School team that won the 1954 Indiana state championship.) Gene Hackman plays coach Norman Dale. After being fired for egregious behavior in a previous coaching job, Dale is given a second chance in Hickory, a small Indiana town by his friend (and Hickory High School principle) Cletus.

Every time I watch the movie, there is a scene that unnerves me. In a good way. Dennis Hopper plays "Shooter." He is, quite literally, the town drunk. The script for his life could be the lyrics of Springsteen's Glory Days. Basketball was and is his passion. But somewhere in his life, something tilted, and the bottle became larger than life itself. Now, Shooter is an embarrassment to his son Everett (a player on the Hickory basketball team), to the town, and to himself. While inebriated, Shooter makes scenes at games, giving the town a place to heap their moral umbrage. (What would we do I wonder, without a town drunk to make us feel better about ourselves?)

Due to health complications, Cletus is unable to continue as assistant coach. Needing an assistant, Coach Dale does the unthinkable. He drives to Shooter's cabin. It is tucked way back into the woods, hidden from view, shabby and unkempt. Shooter hears but cannot see Dale.

"Who's there?" He calls out, standing in front of his cabin, firing off a shot from his shotgun in hand.

When life is too much, everything and everyone feels like a threat.

Coach Dale assures Shooter there is no threat.

Shooter lowers his weapon and invites the coach into his cabin.

In the dishevelment of his "domicile," you feel Shooter's shame.

Coach gets to the point.

"I want you to be my assistant coach."

"Me? You want me?" Shooter asks incredulous.

And it's all there. In Shooter's face, and in his demeanor. His heart is on display.

You don't mean me, do you?

And in that moment, I am Shooter. Whenever love or grace or mercy are on the table it's easy to rifle through the litany in our minds: Me? This me? Are you sure? Is this a hoax?

Then coach Dale tells him the conditions; "wear a suit and tie and stay sober." It's the reality check. While Shooter is none too happy with the trade off, it's important to know that these conditions are not about heaping more shame; they are an affirmation by Coach Dale that there is a Shooter underneath (and larger than) the drunk, the façade, the caricature and the fear.

I want you.

Everyone needs to hear that affirmation.  

To hear someone say, "I value you... You are worthy."

Here's the scary part. We can't really hear it unless we can say it to ourselves.

And when we try, all of our well-honed defenses rise to the surface.

We are not enough. We've let others down. We've let ourselves down.

This exchange between Dale and Shooter is not just about self-esteem. (Don't get me started. While important, we've gone overboard equating self-esteem with the elimination of negative experiences.  In little league now, every gets a trophy. Really? Since when is losing so bad, especially if you gave the game your best shot?)

This story is about wading into life.

This story is about living from sufficiency and not scarcity.

And yes, it is easier said than done.

Oh the things we do from scarcity. We arm ourselves. We live defended. We treat everyone as a combatant. We pretend. We dismiss. We live like victims.

And Lord help us if we try to change.

Coach Norman Dale: [after history class] What's on your mind?

Everett Flatch: Well, coach... what you're doin' with my dad. I'm not seein' it. I mean, he's a drunk, he'll do somethin' stupid...

Coach Norman Dale: When's the last time anyone gave your father a chance?

Everett Flatch: He don't deserve a chance!

So. Where do we go from here?

Rabbi Abraham Heschel once said that we "greet the world not with the tools we have made but with the soul with which we are born; not like a hunter who seeks prey but like a lover to reciprocate love."

In other words: Put on your suit and tie and join me in the game. Show up. Even in all of your insecurity; even in your ill-fitting suit.

"But I don't know if I can give up the bottle," Shooter admits. "It's been good to me."

I know.

Here's the deal: Maybe it's enough to take the first step...

and when we do we discover that this self steeped in sufficiency is alive and well.

To take risks

To contribute

To offer a hand

To feel deeply

To get back up after falling down 

To live wholehearted

That's a tough equation. Wholeheartedness is available only to those who have known broken-heartedness.

As yes, the lunacy and loveliness of love.

What if it doesn't work out?

But what if it does? What if it does? 

From my chair on the patio, I see Rhodie blooms. A creamy pink and smaller soft lavender. By the pond, the scilla blooms--nodding bells--are a vibrant blue. Behind them, the new fronds from our sword ferns, still unfurled, like fiddle-heads, or miniature cloistered monks bowed in prayer. Off to the side, columbine blooms in colors ranging the rainbow. These early spring plants get center stage now, before the roses and peonies and other more dynamic summer acts. And I smile, because they are doing the stage proud.