“I’m not a basketball player. I am a man who plays basketball.” - William Felton Russell

Today, I find myself thinking about a conversation I had with one of our Dean’s a few weeks ago. Maybe this is because I’ve been thinking about basketball this morning! You see, one of my best friends spent this weekend in Halifax, Nova Scotia enjoying the U Sports Men's Basketball Final 8 Championship games there. When I start thinking about basketball, it’s not long before I think of Bill Russell. I remember watching him play on television when I was a boy and he’s long been a role model for me of the relationship between what we do, and who we are.

During that conversation with the Dean, who has been a wonderful colleague and friend of mine for years, I had another opportunity to mention this wonderful man and what I learned from his example. For the rest of my life, when I hear the phrase, "the role of the academic" I know I will find myself thinking of that conversation. The Dean was congratulating me on my planned retirement and commented that she can't imagine retiring as she is so passionately engaged not only in scholarship in the social sciences, but especially in speaking and working in our local community. I know from my own experience with her that she is simply sharing her genuine love for her field, and the people of the Central Valley, when she says this.

She embodies the passionate desire to know, and to share, that justifies the hard work and sacrifice required to engage in scholarship in the most meaningful way. I am glad that I have seen this kind of passionate engagement many times before. When I think of “the role of the academic”, I think of many colleagues, and many of my own teachers, who provide wonderful examples of what it means to be a scholar in the best sense of that word. I always think of my father-in-law, with great respect and gratitude, who, by sharing his passion and enthusiasm for his field, helped fan the spark of curiosity for so many students into a fire that has lit and warmed their lives and the world around them.

As the Dean and I talked about retirement, I contrasted her relationship to her work with mine. My passion has been to provide for my family while doing something useful that made a difference. Ultimately, I have tried to do what is right, with love. Still, my passion is not for the work itself. I shared with her the story of Bill Russell who, when asked "Are you a basketball player?" says, "That’s what I do, that’s not what I am. I'm not a basketball player. I am a man who plays basketball." It was a new story to her, and, as soon as she heard me tell it, she seemed to relax and to understand that I would be just fine in retirement.

With her own deep satisfaction in the work she is engaged in, she had been a bit concerned that I might find life less satisfying in retirement. As we talked, she asked about what I planned to do and became even more relaxed, and animated, as I described the many interests I am looking forward to pursuing more richly once I am retired. She smiled and said, “I think you’ll be just fine!”

As we talked, I found myself thinking that how we describe and define ourselves, especially to ourselves, is very important. Whether we actively work to explore and choose these definitions, or find that they seem self-evident for us, the stories we tell about our purpose and priorities play a vital role in defining who we are. The stories of the Dean’s inspiring journey to become herself, and of my own more modest journey of self discovery, are central to our senses of self and inform the choices we make about how we spend our time and energy in life.

I admire her passion for her work and I am comfortable to do my own work out of a passion for my family, and a desire to make some meaningful difference. I think there may be some middle ground, especially here in our world of academics, between a person like her who works in her passion, and one like me who has little passion for the work itself, and yet finds satisfaction in the contributions he can make to the mission of the university. A place where we see one another in the light of our shared purpose.

A place where academics could both be warmed by the fire of their desire to know, and warm others by sharing what they have learned in a welcoming way that breaks down the illusion of an elite. Where non-academics can bring their best to advancing our shared mission of teaching, learning, scholarship, and community engagement in way that demonstrates their genuine desire to be full partners in this work. Perhaps she and I have begun to share that middle ground already.

We all make choices, and compromises, as we define ourselves and pursue our lives. Where our choices are aligned with our values and beliefs, with our mission and purpose, we are most likely to feel harmony between our actions and our sense of self. Even the most difficult choices, the most challenging obstacles, and the most demanding tasks can be deeply rewarding. We can stretch to work far beyond our comfort zones while remaining true to who we are. We can take our rest, and recover from our labor, satisfied that we have acted in good conscience to do what is right. I have experienced this in my own life and I know that being conscious that who I am is not defined by what I do has been critically important to my ability to make good choices.

This is the third time I’ve used this story about Bill Russell in these essays. I know I’ll tell his story many more times in my life, when I want to help make the point about the difference between who we are and what we do, and I’ll always be grateful to him for his shining example of how understanding this distinction can help us add meaning to our lives. In February 2011, President Barack Obama awarded Bill Russell the Presidential Medal of Freedom and cited him as "someone who stood up for the rights and dignity of all men". I think his own understanding of what it means to be a man with dignity, and love, will always be an inspiration to me.

Now, I find myself looking forward to retirement and thinking of my best friend sharing his joy in retirement with the family and friends he loves, and often immersed in the world of Canadian university basketball that he finds so satisfying. I’ve known this good man for many years, watching with admiration as he pursued his work with integrity and energy, seeing him face adversity with courage, and feeling my heart fill with gladness as he met the best of times with grace and gratitude. I’m glad I had the good fortune to work alongside him in our days at SHARE and happy we continue to share the friendship that grew there.

I watch him enjoying the new adventure of his retirement in the same way. True to his values and to who he is. Giving to his family and community. Finding joy in those things that mean the most to him. If I am fortunate enough to leave the world of work in a way that earns me the good will of my colleagues, and adventure on into retirement as my dear friend has, sharing the love of my family and friends, giving back to my community, and exploring those things that bring me joy, I will be satisfied indeed.

© 2017 James Michael. The text of this work is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0