
On Mind the Game, 40-year-old Lebron James and 51-year-old Steve Nash discussed the evolution of the NBA Playmaker. The Playmaker creates plays for others, doesn’t just score. Basically, the Playmaker makes those around them greater. Lebron and Steve talked about NBA Playmakers Nikola Jokic, Jalen Brunson, and Anthony Edwards (Ant Man). The NBA has evolved into the positionless era. The Era of the Playmaker.
Lebron said, “Everything changes.”
He said, “The game is beautiful, man. And we have to evolve with it. Just like what we have to do with everyday life.”
Steve said, “I’m a big believer that there’s talent everywhere… I love the game.”
Lebron said, “These guys (the older generation) said, ‘You can’t be friends. Why you smiling on the court?’”
When the Minnesota Timberwolves closed out Lebron’s Los Angeles Lakers in the NBA Playoffs, Lebron and Anthony Edwards (Ant Man) stood next to each other smiling and talking. In the 2024 Paris Olympics, Ant Man learned as much as he could from Big Brother Lebron. They have nothing, but mutual mad love and respect. So, what if they smile? So, what if they’re friends?
Smiling Steve confessed, “I’m an Old Head… The Old Heads are bitter and pissed.”
Lebron playfully disagreed, “You’re different… You, too positive. You, too appreciative.”
Steve laughed, “Those guys (Old Heads) were really competitive. They can’t let go… They won’t let go.”
I’m 63-years-old, older than Steve Nash. I’m an Old Head, too. Like Steve, I try not act like one. We both let it go. Give up being right. That the past is better than now.
I’ve trained in Aikido for over 35 years. I’m Godan (5th degree black belt). Like the late Mizukami Sensei, I love Aikido. It gives me life. In the past, Mizukami Sensei had us black belts take Aikido Seminars at other dojos and represent him. I saw all different kinds of Aikido, a lot of it wouldn’t work in a real attack. Still, I kept quiet. I did what that Sensei taught in the seminar.
Before attending Aikido Seminars, Mizukami Sensei reminded, “Do what the Sensei does. Don’t do what I do.” I said, “Hai.” Mizukami Sensei was the Humblest Man on Planet Earth. Nothing, but mad love and respect for Sensei. He was a father to me.
Upon returning from the Aikido Seminar, Mizukami Sensei asked, “So Jon, what did you learn?” Invariably, I complained that the techniques were utter bullshit. They weren’t going to work in a real attack. Sensei smiled as he talked me down from my ledge of self-righteousness. He said, “Show me.”
I showed Sensei the technique from the Aikido Seminar. Then Mizukami Sensei showed me how to move the attacker’s head and throw with his feeling out, from his one point, ki. He showed how to make the technique work. He didn’t make the Aikido wrong, didn’t make that Sensei wrong. Mizukami Sensei was the humblest man, I knew. I learned humility from Sensei over the years.
Mizukami Sensei said that there are all kinds of Aikido, because there are all kinds of people. He said if Aikido Founder O-Sensei were alive today, his Aikido would look different, too. O-Sensei would have evolved. His Aikido would have evolved, too.
Like Lebron James talked about basketball and Mizukami Sensei talked about Aikido, everything changes. That’s just life. I have to evolve along with change, evolve with life.
Mizukami Sensei taught Ishibashi Sensei and me until he passed away. Now, Ishibashi Sensei teaches me. By definition Mizukami Sensei was an Old Head, but didn’t act like one. He said, “Make it work. Make the technique work for you.” Sensei taught us to throw with our feeling out, from our strength inside.
Sensei said, “Wait it out. Enter the attack. Take a glancing blow if you have to. You’re not always going to get away scot-free. It’s one time.” That wasn’t only meant for the bigger stronger man attacking. I take a risk, take a hit for what’s meaningful to me.
Ishibashi Sensei said, “The purpose of Aikido is to release your fear.” He said, “The safest place to be is under the attack, in the danger.” Under the attack, in the danger, I open up. I let go my fear inside that I’m not good enough over, and over, and over again. I free me. I’m quiet inside. I evolve.
After Sunday practice, I told Ishibashi Sensei, “I get it, now.” When I’m center-to-center with the attacker as they attack, I profile, and let the attack pass me. I might take a hit, but it’s a glancing blow. It’s one time. Ishibashi Sensei smiled. He said, “That’s from Mizukami Sensei.” Aikido evolves. We evolve. We become better people. That’s what Mizukami Sensei wanted for Ishibashi Sensei and me.
I had the abusive and traumatic childhood. Dad scared the hell out of me when I was a little boy. I got that I’m not good enough, that I never would be. Old Heads said, “Suck it up. Be a man!” I didn’t listen to that nonsense.
I asked for help from my therapist Lance Miller. Lance helped me heal my childhood trauma and depression in therapy. I forgive Dad for not knowing how to be a father, for being afraid inside too, and for being imperfectly human. I forgive myself for not being strong enough as a little boy to stand up to Dad and protect Mom. I forgive myself for being imperfectly human, too. I love myself for who I am and for who I’m not. I evolve.
Everything changes. We all can evolve for the better. In my evolution, I try to make a difference for others. I write about loving and forgiving thine own self on the Good Men Project with my editor Lisa Hickey. Maybe what I write helps others find their path to end suffering. I teach Aikido to kids and teens. I teach them to take a glancing blow, to throw with their feeling out. I teach them that they’re stronger inside than on the outside. That they always were. Maybe, they create their meaningful lives, too.
I’m old enough to be an Old Head. Still, I’m open to life. I let it go. It’s not all about me. It’s about others, about them. Maybe, I can create the space for the next generation to be as great as they can be. They can make the world a greater place. Don’t be an Old Head. Make a difference for others. Help bring them up. That way, we all evolve for the better. We just train.
