"If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two impostors just the same"

From Rudyard Kipling's poem, "If"

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This past Sunday afternoon for reasons unknown to me, Rudyard Kipling and this poem came to mind. I read it first decades ago, and then here and there over the years. It still moves me, and as I said, it just bubbled up yesterday. ???

Written from the point of view of a man as coming-of-age advice for his son¹, the stoic wisdom of “If” — in this woman’s opinion — has value for us all, man or woman.

I decided to visit YouTube and have another listen. “If” has been recited by many over the years, including Sir Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman, Dennis Hopper, Kevin Spacey, Ralph Fiennes, Jocko Willink, Asha Logos, et al. This one, by a woman (as a mother’s advice to a son?) I found very moving.

So it was with great amusement that I saw John Leake’s recent post about Novic Djokovic. Published on Sunday, I saw it over at Lew Rockwell’s site earlier today. Mr. Leake opens his piece by quoting — coincidentally — Rudyard Kipling:

“The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. To be your own man is hard business. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.”

And that Novak Djokovic does — he owns himself. He is his own man — and showed that to the world.

And so apropos it is that I leave you with “If” by Rudyard Kipling as recited by Simerjeet Singh. I chose this version due to Kipling’s love of India; I thought it fitting to hear it recited by someone from the country he loved:

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same²;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run…

Damn.

1. Rudyard Kipling endured great tragedy in his life, including the loss of his only son. Just barely 18 years old, John entered the Irish Guard during World War I — with his father’s help — and was sent to France. It is fairly certain that John lost his life at the Battle of Loos. His body was never found. Having already lost a daughter to pneumonia, Rudyard was never the same after this second great loss.

2. Ironically, these words appear on the wall of the Players’ Entrance to Centre Court at the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club — the home of the Wimbledon Championships.