one play

everyone has something that helps soothe the spirit in times of distress or confusion or fear. something that brings comfort or inspiration or courage when it’s needed. something familiar and trusted and loved so much that it can reset your compass or pull you out of a swampy ditch or cover you in a protective suit of armour. or something new and unexpected and surprising – like finding a spaceman on the subway - that arrives at just the right moment, in just the right way, like a serendipitous sign from the universe.

it doesn’t have to be something grand in and of itself (see, again: the spaceman), but it can hold great power. it might be a stuffed animal tucked away in a closet or a motivational quote pasted on your fridge or a piece of music with a chord progression that reaches into your soul and yanks hard whenever you hear it. it could be a prayer or a hug or, in some cases, just a really great night’s sleep.

whatever it is, it always does its job exactly as it should: it makes you feel better.

and, for me, that thing is Rudy.

yes, Rudy.

the movie.

scoff not, please.

for the uninitiated, the film – made in 1993 and starring sean astin – tells the true story of daniel “rudy” ruettiger, who wants nothing more than to play for notre dame university’s “fighting irish” football team in the early 1970s. i think i’ve probably seen it about 30 times and, each time i do, i find within it the message i need to remember: never give up.

rudy is small. 5’6” and barely 165 pounds. everyone tells him he’s nuts to think he can play college football, let alone for a team as renowned as notre dame. they laugh. they caution him about the futility of his dream. they outright refuse to support his efforts. and even notre dame itself issues a polite, “erm, no thanks.” but rudy doesn’t give up. he knows what he wants, and goes after it with the tenacity of a terrier.

realizing that his dream can’t happen overnight, no matter how badly he’d like it to, rudy sets a course filled with patience and hard work. he does everything in his power to get as close to his dream as he can, so that it’s always in his sights. he doesn’t get into notre dame, so he goes to its nearby sister college, holy cross, instead. his grades are sub-par and he discovers he’s dyslexic, so he studies and studies and studies. he wants to be a part of the notre dame experience, even off the field, so he sneaks onto the spirit squad. he gets a job working on the grounds crew so he can step into the stadium, even if just to rake its grass. he keeps applying to notre dame, semester after semester, and with each rejection letter he receives he grows more and more despondent.

but he doesn’t give up.

he tries harder. he works longer. he hurts more. and, when that long-elusive acceptance letter finally does arrive – after years of struggle – rudy just sits on a bench beside a pond and cries. even after 30 viewings, i cannot watch that scene without devolving into a weepy, snotty mess, because it’s such a beautiful moment.

rudy’s tears are tears of profound joy and relief, to be sure... but his dream is still a ways off. he may be a student of notre dame, but getting onto the football team remains a near-impossible challenge.

ergo: he doesn’t give up.

he’s too small for the team, but the coaches so admire his determination and unfailing spirit that they put him on the practice squad – essentially, the also-ran players who aren’t good enough for first-string but against whom the actual team members will practice mercilessly as though they were the opponents. for rudy, even this supreme battering – day in and day out, at the hands of guys twice his size – isn’t enough to deter him. in his eyes, and despite the concerns of his coaches and fellow players, it’s all worth it because he knows it’s getting him that much closer to where he wants to be.

rudy’s body takes a beating, the naysayers continue to say nay and, for a while, it seems that no matter what he does or how close he comes, his dream will always remain just out of reach of his bandaged fingertips. he’s tried everything to make it happen – he’s seen it, tasted it, come up to it, stood beside it, crawled under it, climbed over it, run around it and been thrown flat on his back by it... but still cannot seem to touch it. his family and friends and teammates witness his struggles and his drive and start to want his dream for him almost as much as he wants it for himself, even against ever-increasing odds and a clock that’s ticking down to graduation.

give up? not a chance.

when rudy sits alone in his dorm room at night, clutching his notre dame jacket as though it’s the most precious thing he owns, or when he walks up to the game roster to see if his name has maybe been added to the line-up (only to discover, time and again, that, despite everything he’s done, it has not), i watch and i know that feeling. that wanting. that all-consuming hope. that disappointment of feeling like all has been for naught. and, simultaneously for me, that nagging fear that it’s just never gonna happen.

for rudy, though, that unrelenting belief that his dream will be realized, that he will succeed, that everything for which he’s fought will matter in the end carries him through those nights. he digs deep within himself to find the reserves of strength and faith he needs to continue. he fights on. he forges ahead, even if it’s only in microscopic increments. (yes, drops, as it were.)

and, by the time he’s finally FINALLY allowed onto the field for one play – ONE PLAY! – in the last game of the season in his last year at notre dame, his dream has changed its shape somewhat but its manifestation is no less huge. when little rudy ruettiger FINALLY bursts out from the sidelines where's he worked and hoped and tried and waited for so long, and runs into the spotlight in what is literally an explosion of pure euphoria and personal victory, everyone in the stadium erupts into thunderous applause and deafening cheers. his dream has become theirs. his presence in the game is, at that point, simply a good-will gesture from his team that ensures he goes down in the school’s official record books as having played, and his participation in the game amounts to a single sack... but rudy’s dream has, at long last, come true.

he savours it and embraces it and gives himself completely over to it, charging onto the field, running that lone play and being carried off on the shoulders of his teammates like a champion as a reward for his effort and the extent of his tireless journey. and that one play, lasting less than a minute and which might be considered an insignificant moment to so many is, for him, everything.

all the hardship, all the doubt, all the fear, all the obstacles, all the things that could have made him quit are erased in a matter of seconds.

all the hardship, all the doubt, all the fear, all the obstacles, all the things that could have made him quit are instantly rewarded.

and all the hardship, all the doubt, all the fear, all the obstacles, all the things that could have made him quit are all the things that make his triumph that much more meaningful.

one play.

that’s all it took. one play.

and a dream came true.

when i watch that movie, i see myself. i see my own struggles, my own hardships, my own fears, my own naysayers, my own doubt reflected back at me through the mirror of this eager young football player and his underdog story. many a night, i’ve sat alone on my sofa, clinging to one dream or another the same way rudy clutches that jacket, wondering if it’s ever gonna happen. wondering how much longer i should keep trying. wondering whether i should just give up and go live in a cave.

desperate for one play of my own.

so, when i feel myself succumbing to fear or self-doubt or despondency over my life or about a dream, i try to think of Rudy. i think of the character’s long and difficult and winding road, and the unadulterated elation of eventually reaching a destination no one but he himself believed he’d ever reach. i’m reminded that faith in yourself, belief in yourself, support of yourself and a resolve that must come from within are just as important, if not more important, than having a cheering squad waving pom-poms in your direction.

maybe that one play for which i hope isn't the same as the one you'd want for yourself, or as significant to someone else as it might be to me, but if i want it to happen then i'm the one who has to make sure i keep going. i'm the one who has to push myself. i'm the one who has to keep believing. i know this, but often i forget. so, even though (like rudy) i'm usually able to get myself close to a dream - to see it and feel it and walk around it and almost touch it - i find that i'm usually the one to pack it in and walk away when the going gets especially tough or the outlook seems bleak or i feel like time has just marched on too long.

the movie inevitably recharges my spirit and, when that final play occurs and tears are streaming down my face (every single time!), i feel better. even just the first few strains of jerry goldsmith’s pitch-perfect score are enough to send tiny reverberations of renewed conviction through my veins.

and, curiously, when i do experience those periods where i’m sinking in the proverbial quicksand, the universe seems to know and throws me a line by dropping the film into the television schedule somewhere.

thursday night before bed, when i was feeling very much alone and anxious and down, i checked the TV listings to see if the universe was paying attention.

sure enough, Rudy is on next week.

and, even though thursday's cloud has lifted, you can bet i’ll be tuning in for the 31st time.