I moved with my parents from Cooranbong, Australia, to California’s Napa Valley in May of 1977. I was 11. I wasn’t good at making friends, so I spent my time reading books and dreaming about how awesome I would be when I got my freedom.
My Seventh-Day Adventist preacher daddy had fans and one of them gave us some radios, one of which I took. I had never owned a radio before. I now had a pipeline to the exciting low-brow world of sports and pop music.
We didn’t have a TV, so my radio was my most exciting companion. It showed a universe to me where I could be great. I could be the next Brent Musburger or Dan Rather or Howard Cosell.
I played sports but I wasn’t any good. I wasn’t the worst. I was just average. I last played on a team at age 18 when I was living in Tannum Sands, Australia, after graduating from high school in California. I was part of the BITS (Boyne Island Tannum Sands) soccer club. I played on the B team without distinction. I had no special talent, but I showed up to practice regularly and did what I was told.
After age 18, sports became something that I watched.
I love a good fight. Sports rehearse you for life’s battles. Watching wasn’t just escape—it felt like training.
Life is a team sport. Group strategy will usually out-compete individual strategy — both for happiness and for effectiveness. Walking a mile or two on your own without distractions can be a chore, but walking five miles with a friend is a joy.
From age 22 on, I struggled with exhaustion (due to my vegetarian diet I found out at age 55). I came to welcome anything that gave me a clean burst of pep.
As someone prone to emotional addictions (by 2015, I was in five 12-step programs for various process addictions), however, I knew that cheap excitement is dangerous for me.
During the last World Cup, I read half a dozen books on soccer and earned the right to watch soccer intelligently.
Soccer strategy revolves around creating space while on offense and reducing space for the opponent when you are on defense. Possession is king.
This resonated with me. Like most blokes, I like freedom and space. The more possibilities, the better (until there are too many, when they become exhausting). If I don’t take action, life hems me in. Like Dirk Diggler, I see myself as a big bright shining star, and I don’t want to be henpecked.
When I misread myself and the world, my attempts at freedom often backfire and shrink my life. For example, by creating space for myself by speaking freely, I sometimes hacked away at my most important relationships, and in the loneliness that resulted, I felt miserable (on the other hand, appropriate bravery when wisely speaking up helped me to connect with others, particularly online). Chasing freedom through self-employment often shrank my life into financial desperation. Once I accepted a normal job, my money problems diminished and I felt freer. I perform better at work when I feel like a star, but I have to demonstrate to those around me that I am in on the joke lest they hate me.
A subterranean motive driving my conversion to Judaism was my overwhelming conviction by age 22 that left to my own devices, I would destroy myself and damage those around me. I knew I needed less space, and less freedom to choose. As I moved into Judaism, however, the closeness often felt like it was strangling me (it’s hard to convert to a ritualistic religion from a non-ritualized background), and the fallout hurt both me and others.
As I moved into my forties, I felt gratitude for the balance that Orthodox Judaism offered me between individualism and group identity. For example, pretty much anything I want to talk about, I can find an Orthodox Jew or two to have that chinwag, but I should always take care not to say things to unnecessarily hurt those around. I’m not as bonded with the tribe as your normal Orthodox Jew, after all I’m a bachelor, but I am more bonded to the group than I would be if I only followed my inclinations. These days I’m better able to choose the right amount of freedom and connection for myself and for those affected by me. For example, I can volunteer up to ten hours a week without feeling stifled, but if I consistently volunteer over 15 hours of week, I burn out and want to run away from my commitments.
When I expand wisely, I’m playing offense; when I set boundaries, I’m on defense. The trick is not to forget that both are part of the same game.
When I join groups, there’s a part of me that wants to show I know better than everyone else in the group and therefore I should be the leader. This path leads to my destruction. My drive for distinction over connection (I bet many of us mistake the craving to stand out for a path to freedom, when in fact it can cut us off from the very people who make freedom possible) is not a winning formula, but I can’t kill it. I can only follow God or 12-Steps or Good Orderly Direction that push me towards more connection than is natural for me. What is natural for me is not optimal for me.
I still love enormous amounts of solitude to read and to write, but when that isolation slips into loneliness, I drown it in Dallas Cowboys highlights on YouTube.
When I watch Dak Prescott throw a touchdown pass, or I watch Brad Pitt drive a race car in the F1 movie, I experience it as though it’s me doing the cool things.
Do normal people watch movies without feeling part of the story?
ChatGPT says:
Here’s why some people immerse much more deeply than others when watching sports or movies:
1. Absorption & Imagination
Psychologists talk about a trait called absorption—the ability to become fully immersed in an activity or story. People high in absorption often lose themselves in music, books, or movies. They blur the line between imagination and reality more vividly.
2. Mirror Neurons
Neuroscience shows that when you watch someone perform an action—like Dak Prescott throwing a pass—your brain activates some of the same neural pathways as if you were doing it yourself. For some people, this mirroring is stronger, making the vicarious experience more real.
3. Personality Factors
Openness to experience: People who are curious, imaginative, and emotionally sensitive often immerse more deeply.
Empathy: If you’re naturally tuned into others’ emotions, you may step more easily into a character’s shoes.
Sensation-seeking: If you crave intensity, you might “lean into” movies or sports to get that rush as if it were happening to you.
4. Life History
If you once played sports (even without distinction), your body remembers. Watching can light up those same motor memories, so the game feels like your game.
If you dreamed of broadcasting, racing, or stardom, movies scratch that itch—your identity hooks into the story.
5. State of Mind
Fatigue, stress, or longing for escape can make people more prone to “merge” with what they watch. That’s why someone burned out might binge action movies and feel like they’ve lived an adventure.
6. Cultural Framing
We’re trained to see sports and movies as participatory. Cheering, chanting, crying—those are signals that you’re meant to join in, not stay detached.
So: normal people do feel part of the story, but not everyone to the same degree. Some watch a touchdown like they’re on the field. Others just notice the stats.
When I get clarity, I feel exhilarated. I expand. When I feel bad, when I’m defeated and humiliated by life, I feel oppressed and small. My choices diminish. One great thing psychotherapy gave me was a realization that I always had more options than I initially believed. After failure, part of me wants to collapse and give up and crawl into a cave and say there’s no point trying.
Alexander Technique, therapy, 12-step work, volunteering, and beef organ capsules are the greatest things I’ve done over the past 20 years to create more space for myself while staying connected to those I love.
At 59, I’m still playing the same game I played at 18 — knowing when to spread the field and when to close it down.
I asked ChatGPT: What other areas of life can be understood this way of creating and closing space? Where else might these strategies apply outside of sports?
ChatGPT said:
Some parallels:
Negotiation and Business
Offense: you create space by broadening options, introducing new terms, or reframing issues so you have more room to maneuver.
Defense: you restrict space by narrowing the scope, limiting concessions, and controlling the terms of discussion.
Conversation and Debate
Offense: ask open-ended questions, invite perspectives, and give people room to express themselves.
Defense: tighten the focus, push back on digressions, and constrain the range of acceptable arguments.
Creativity and Problem-Solving
Offense: deliberately expand the space of ideas—brainstorm widely, consider far-out options, let thoughts flow without judgment.
Defense: later restrict the field—apply criteria, eliminate weak options, narrow down to the feasible.
Parenting or Teaching
Offense: give kids room to explore, make mistakes, and find their own way.
Defense: set boundaries, keep them safe, and block harmful paths.
Politics and Law
Offense: create space through broad coalitions, new legislation, or expanding rights.
Defense: restrict space through regulation, precedent, or narrowing interpretation.
Personal Boundaries
Offense: open yourself to new relationships, opportunities, or experiences.
Defense: close off toxic dynamics, set firm limits, and protect your time and energy.
Have Republicans under Trump opened space for their team and restricted space for their enemies? Are Democrats fighting back by opening space and restricting space for their enemies?
ChatGPT said:
Both sides constantly work the “space” game, just in different directions.
Republicans under Trump (opening space):
Expanded the rhetorical and cultural space for openly nationalist, anti-establishment, and grievance-driven politics. Things that once felt “off-limits” in mainstream discourse became normalized.
Opened space in the judiciary and regulatory arenas by prioritizing deregulation, reducing oversight, and seating conservative judges who reinterpret the law in ways that give more leeway to business, religion, and gun rights.
Republicans under Trump (restricting space):
Restricted access to immigration, voting, reproductive rights, and federal agency expertise (e.g., science-based policymaking).
Worked to narrow the acceptable range of history and school curricula (culture-war battles over “woke” content, DEI, etc.).
Democrats (opening space):
Expanded conversations about equity, diversity, climate change, and healthcare.
Pushed voting rights legislation, student debt relief efforts, and new space for environmental regulation and clean energy investment.
Opened rhetorical space for marginalized groups (LGBTQ+, racial justice, immigrant rights).
Democrats (restricting space):
Tried to restrict corporate influence, monopolistic practices, and the power of fossil fuels.
Imposed or defended regulations in healthcare, environment, workplace protections.
Pushed back against Trump-aligned efforts by restricting space for disinformation (social media regulation attempts, legal challenges to election lies).
In short: each party plays offense by expanding certain freedoms or conversations that serve its coalition, and plays defense by narrowing or constraining freedoms that empower the other side.
Here’s how the “space” lens works in art and technology:
Art
Offense (creating space):
Artists break conventions, invent new forms, and expand the field of what counts as art. Impressionism, abstract expressionism, performance art—all were about pushing boundaries to open new creative space.
Within a single work, artists create space for ambiguity, interpretation, and emotional range so viewers can bring themselves into the piece.
Defense (restricting space):
Critics, curators, and institutions often narrow the field by deciding which works or styles are “serious,” canonical, or fundable.
Artists themselves sometimes choose restraint—minimalism, limited palettes, or strict forms—as a way to heighten meaning by constraining possibility.
Technology
Offense (creating space):
Innovators open new arenas of possibility: the internet created vast new spaces for communication and commerce; AI expands space for automation and creative tools.
Open-source movements deliberately create space for collective development and experimentation.
Defense (restricting space):
Companies restrict space by walling off ecosystems (Apple’s App Store rules, proprietary platforms).
Governments and ethicists restrict space with regulation (data privacy laws, limits on surveillance tech).
Even within design, restriction can be a feature—good UX often reduces user choice to simplify, focus, and prevent error.
So in both art and tech, there’s a constant dance: bold expansion that makes new worlds possible, followed by selective narrowing to refine, protect, or control.
Here’s a unifying framework you can carry across domains:
The Law of Space Management
Life is a game of managing space—when to expand it and when to contract it.
Creating Space (Offense)
Expand options, choices, and opportunities.
Increase freedom of movement, thought, or action.
Encourage diversity, experimentation, and possibility.
Risk: too much space can lead to chaos, overwhelm, or lack of focus.
Restricting Space (Defense)
Narrow choices to sharpen focus and efficiency.
Set boundaries that protect people, values, or resources.
Eliminate noise, distractions, or threats.
Risk: too much restriction leads to stagnation, rigidity, or oppression.
The Dynamic Balance
Success in any domain depends on the rhythm between expansion and contraction.
Innovation comes from expanding the field, then narrowing to what works.
Relationships thrive when space is given for growth but bounded by respect.
Politics swings between periods of opening rights and tightening order.
Art flourishes when bold experimentation is later refined into form.
General Rule
Expand when you need possibility.
Contract when you need clarity.
Mastery comes from knowing when to do which.
The Law of Space Management
Life is a game of managing space—when to expand it and when to contract it.
1. Creating Space (Offense)
Open possibilities, invite movement, multiply options.
Encourage exploration, experimentation, and freedom.
Broaden horizons by reframing, innovating, and disrupting norms.
Use when: you need growth, fresh energy, or new solutions.
Risk: too much space creates noise, overwhelm, or drift.
2. Restricting Space (Defense)
Narrow choices, sharpen focus, protect boundaries.
Cut distractions, eliminate weak options, define limits.
Constrain to clarify, protect, and enforce order.
Use when: you need clarity, discipline, or security.
Risk: too much restriction leads to rigidity, stagnation, or repression.
3. The Rhythm
Expansion and contraction must alternate.
Innovation = expand wildly, then contract sharply.
Relationships = give room to grow, but anchor with respect.
Politics = rights expand, then order reigns them in.
Art = exploration followed by form.
Technology = new tools create space, regulation and design contract it.
4. The Master Principle
Expand when you need possibility.
Contract when you need clarity.
Mastery is knowing which moment demands which.
