The “I” Remains Steady

The small-sided pitch felt tighter than usual, every shout ricocheting off the chain-link fence. I stood between the posts, gloves on, reading the pitch. Across it, their keeper turned his mouth into a weapon.

He barked at everyone. Us. His own team. The referee. He called, complained, needled, instructed. Anything to get inside a head. You could feel him fishing for a reaction.

One of our guys snapped back. Then another. The trap sprung.

There’s always a player like this, a master of mental static. He doesn’t need to outpace you. He only needs you to stop playing your game and start playing his.

The antidote is simple and hard: don’t react. Keep your head down. Keep moving. Play. Because once you engage, your attention fractures. Your touch gets heavy. Your timing blurs. Football punishes the unfocused. So does life.

You may not be on a pitch this week, but the provocateurs are everywhere. Decline the trading your presence for fury. In Yogi Ramacharaka’s teaching on Karma Yoga, the wise person “acts, but is not disturbed by the fruits of action or the praise and blame of men.” You do the work cleanly, and steadily. And at the same time, you refuse to let outcomes or opinions hijack your nervous system.

Praise? Don’t inflate. Blame? Don’t deflate. Noise? Let it pass through without leaving a mark. On the field, equanimity wins more than talent. In life, it wins more than cleverness. Because equanimity preserves the one resource everything depends on. Your attention.

Play your game. Don’t react. Let the crowd be weather. Act cleanly. Untouched by praise or blame. The “I” remains steady.