Nonsense identity

by Carl Dyke

Andy Murray is about to play Rogerer Federererer for the Wimbledon men’s tennis title. There’s the usual media fooferall on, which this time around includes a bunch of complete nonsense about how Murray represents the hopes, dreams, fantasies, delusions, who knows what-all of international Britishdom. Meanwhile at 30 years of age Fed is somehow representing the reciprocal psycho-cerebral garbage of old people. Hannah Storm just now said, and I’m not making this up, “It’s hard to overstate how important this Wimbledon final is.” “Much more than a tennis match,” another suit says.


Wtf, as the kids say nowadays. If Murray wins it will mean exactly zero about the particular qualities of any other particular Brit, whatever that means, or Scot, or redheaded oatmeal eater. Fed’s victory will make me and other old folks not even slightly less fat, slow and uncoordinated. Or skinny, slow and uncoordinated as the case may be.

Really, just stop it.


3 Comments to “Nonsense identity”

  1. “Maybe that’s what it comes down to. We really want there to be something non-physical. We really want to save a bizarre idea of mental causation, however hobbled and jury-rigged, from the evil forces of non-reductive physicalism. We really want to be special in a way that squirrels can never be.” (Asher, last post.)

    Maybe it’s obvious that these cases overlap. What bothers me about the kind of identity claimed for Brits and old people with the Wimbledon finalists is that it’s reaching for an empty aspirational transcendence, a participation in something bigger and grander than oneself that has no grounding in actual performance.

  2. I’d riposte Phillies, but maybe next year.

    Also, with Murray’s loss it’s now decisively proven that the British are a nation of losers and old guys rule. Except British old guys, of course.

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