supa_fly_steeler
02-19-2010, 01:34 PM
The Burden of Being Myron Rolle
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/eticket/story?page=100218/myronrolle
A very long article with interviews. I want this kid more.
OXFORD, England -- Oxford at first light is an ode to potential. The purple sky throws shadows off churches and their saw-blade spires, bringing definition to the gap-toothed smiles of crenellated walls. The ghosts come out in the dream of early morning. Twelve saints and seven British prime ministers walked these streets. So did Bill Clinton and John Donne, Sir Thomas More and Kris Kristofferson, plus the guy who invented the World Wide Web.
That little list? It always happens. People construct a roster of famous yet diverse alumni when describing Oxford -- the quirky sum even more fantastic than the successful parts -- implying that greatness comes with the diploma. But a shadow lurks near those collections of names. Oxford University is full of students who will one day change the world, yes, but it is also full of those who have the gifts to change it and will fail. In the hope of morning, though, let your focus fall on Clinton and Donne, More and Kristofferson and now, as the dreamy purple light burns off as busses chug and belch down the ancient streets and another week of reality begins, Myron Rolle.
Rolle bounds down Banbury Road, long strides chewing up sidewalk, hurrying to his next lecture. Today's topic is "Pain and the Brain." He settles into a seat in the back of the room, the only student whose biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt. Around him, fellow Rhodes scholars open laptops, notebooks or leather-bound Moleskine journals. The professor, a world-renowned researcher, begins speaking, about Pavlov and the curious case of Phineas Gage. The students take notes furiously.
Rolle takes a few notes, too, but mostly he stares at the professor. The motors and gears in his head are spinning. This is how it's always been for him. His mind rarely stops computing; when his brother McKinley is throwing all the possible routes in random order during their regular morning football workout, Rolle just knows if they missed a 2, or maybe a 7. Today, he's focused on the man standing at the front of the room. What about this doctor? Where did he start? How did he immerse himself in the brain? When, and why, did pain come to interest him? Did he watch helplessly as someone he loved struggled against a devastating mental illness? Was it a wife? A child? What drove him to this very place at this very moment?
Suddenly, his focus shifts.
What about me? How did I get here?
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/eticket/story?page=100218/myronrolle
A very long article with interviews. I want this kid more.
OXFORD, England -- Oxford at first light is an ode to potential. The purple sky throws shadows off churches and their saw-blade spires, bringing definition to the gap-toothed smiles of crenellated walls. The ghosts come out in the dream of early morning. Twelve saints and seven British prime ministers walked these streets. So did Bill Clinton and John Donne, Sir Thomas More and Kris Kristofferson, plus the guy who invented the World Wide Web.
That little list? It always happens. People construct a roster of famous yet diverse alumni when describing Oxford -- the quirky sum even more fantastic than the successful parts -- implying that greatness comes with the diploma. But a shadow lurks near those collections of names. Oxford University is full of students who will one day change the world, yes, but it is also full of those who have the gifts to change it and will fail. In the hope of morning, though, let your focus fall on Clinton and Donne, More and Kristofferson and now, as the dreamy purple light burns off as busses chug and belch down the ancient streets and another week of reality begins, Myron Rolle.
Rolle bounds down Banbury Road, long strides chewing up sidewalk, hurrying to his next lecture. Today's topic is "Pain and the Brain." He settles into a seat in the back of the room, the only student whose biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt. Around him, fellow Rhodes scholars open laptops, notebooks or leather-bound Moleskine journals. The professor, a world-renowned researcher, begins speaking, about Pavlov and the curious case of Phineas Gage. The students take notes furiously.
Rolle takes a few notes, too, but mostly he stares at the professor. The motors and gears in his head are spinning. This is how it's always been for him. His mind rarely stops computing; when his brother McKinley is throwing all the possible routes in random order during their regular morning football workout, Rolle just knows if they missed a 2, or maybe a 7. Today, he's focused on the man standing at the front of the room. What about this doctor? Where did he start? How did he immerse himself in the brain? When, and why, did pain come to interest him? Did he watch helplessly as someone he loved struggled against a devastating mental illness? Was it a wife? A child? What drove him to this very place at this very moment?
Suddenly, his focus shifts.
What about me? How did I get here?