Whatever happened to the ordinary Democrat’s sense of decency?

Honour is a word rarely used these days, and too often it’s used by scoundrels to whom any idea of a code of behaviour is simply something strange people have which they see as a weakness to be exploited. On the other hand, it’s too often talked up as something olde worlde whose subtle intricacies are far beyond the ken of ordinary mortals, but it’s actually a simple thing. A personal thing. Occasionally you’re forced by nobody but yourself to abide by it, no matter whether that does you good or ill.

I played sports all my life because I simply enjoyed so many aspects of it. The comradeship of being in a team, making the perfect shot, the pure joy of letting go of your body and just letting it flow into your game. I miss it. One sport I liked to play was Badminton because it combined power and a light touch beautifully. Towards the end of my sporting career, I played it in village teams in local leagues. On any match night, you’d meet six comparative strangers from the locale, play your three games of the nine to be played that evening and generally socialise between games.

Winning a match is always the prime objective, but if you truly love the game, it can’t be at all costs. A team match of Badminton consists of the best of nine sets, with each set decided by the best of three games. In other words, each pair plays every other pair in the opposition’s team. The first game on one match night, one of the opposition players started cheating. It was supposed to be subtle, but that’s what it was. It’s the form in amateur leagues for the opposite pair to call a shot to them as in or out – he was calling as many shots out as he could get away with. When he served and the receiver was in stance, he’d delay by four or five seconds before serving, just along enough for the receiver’s muscles to lock up. He was doing other crap, but it all amounted to the same thing – cheating.

This went on all the way through the first game, which he lost. For the second game, no attempt was made to return any of his serves and when his partner served, the shuttlecock was simply knocked off the court. The third went exactly the same way, giving the cheat an easy set, and ended without the usual handshakes and was received in stony silence by both teams.

The next game, their captain played and to his credit and his partner’s, played in exactly the same no compete fashion to even up the sets. Every time win at all costs played, he was handed the same no compete win in silence and his teammates duly evened the sets score by throwing the set. The three sets actively competed for were fine games, powered on their part by shame and anger at the damage the wretch they’d brought along with them had done to the match, but also a determination to prove they could win fairly. It ended up at four sets each going into the final ninth set, traditionally the captains’ game.

That was one fine set played at the extreme edge and beyond of all four player’s abilities and reserves of strength. It went to three games and by the end, they stopped sweating which is a real danger sign – the body’s been driven to give all it has. The only fuel left to run on is somewhere deep down inside you. It was won in the end but it was the sort of sporting match where a momentary handshake is not enough. The spontaneous embrace that follows it is an acknowledgement that for one fleeting moment we were all brothers who’d given everything we had.

The men involved in that incident would take the praise that they’d been sportsmanlike, and would I think cringe slightly at being described as honourable, but that’s exactly the way they’d behaved. To their way of thinking, they’d just been fair. The greybeard who’d originally refused to play the cheat’s game lost an arm in the service of his country high in the skies over Normandy during the war. If he got a sense the opposition was taking it easy on him, he’d a way of making a light jokey remark but the message was clear – don’t give me any special breaks, because I won’t be giving you any. He fell over a lot, sometimes knowing that was going to be the cost of returning a shot, but he played a well-judged game. A sense of honour doesn’t diminish with age, and unsurprisingly, I never saw win at all costs appear in a league team again.

Where is the voice of the traditional, life-long, rank and file Democrat voter in this blatant theft of the presidency? Not a Democrats against the Steal group, not a protest, not a murmur, not a peep, nothing. The party that styled itself as the party that cared primarily for the poor, the downtrodden and the discriminated against, and above all some common decency and fairness is forever dishonoured if the travesty of this election is allowed to win. If you don’t feel shame, it can only be because you have none.

Perhaps you’re waiting for some leadership from your honourable congressmen. Not only are they silent too, but that silence is the stain identifying them as complicit in stamping a seal of normality on the most corrupted and last supposedly free election America will ever have. That’s if anybody after it can be bothered to actually vote, because that seems now a futile gesture, since the people in charge of the counting computers have already decided in advance who’s going to win. The labels Democrat or Republican no longer apply. In this constitutional crisis, it’s about whether the Republic stands or not. You’re either tacitly complicit in the Steal, or you’re going to fight it, irrespective of what your traditional party label is.

It’s far from over, but either way, your decision window about which cause you support is closing. If you stay silent and the cheat wins, or you stayed silent before Trump clawed back what he’s rightfully earned, you’ll never again be able to talk to a Republican voter about your values of fairness. That ship with you aboard it will have left port and sunk without trace.

I heard a story about a ten-year-old boy who was crazy about Rugby, and more specifically his local provincial team. His parents bought him what they thought was the perfect present – the strip of his adored club. Much to their disappoint, when he opened it, he said he couldn’t wear it until he had earned it. As a grown man, he did earn it and has since gone on to represent his country internationally. He set his own standards early, which is perhaps why he’s become so successful.

In the child is always the seed of the man he will become. Read Psalms 8:2.

©Pointman

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Comments
5 Responses to “Whatever happened to the ordinary Democrat’s sense of decency?”
  1. philjourdan says:

    The leadership of the democrat party are without honor. But 30% of the rank and file democrats think the election was stolen. They are the old style democrats, much like your team players. They play to win, but they do not cheat to win.

    But they will never have a chance in the new democrat party who cheats just for the sake of cheating, because they can.

    Like

  2. Michael Moore says:

    Very good question. I’m sure there are still the odd decent Democrat but they are scared into obedience and silence. The cancel culture and threats are too much for the odd decent Democrat.

    Like

  3. babygrandparents says:

    This is identical to the Liberal Party in Canada. No matter the corruption of Trudeau – all you hear are crickets. No honour or voting pout the leader. Sycophants all of them. Sad.

    Like

  4. oebele bruinsma says:

    The US democratic party has been taken over by totalitarian leftist thinkers and doeers by the Gramsci recipe of the 1920s: Take over the institutions we run our democracies with.

    Like

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