Memories...Do not Open
What remains when everything else has already happened
17 June 1994
The final game of the World Cup. A football player with a ponytail and the name “Baggio” written on the back of his shirt, picks up the ball, walks up to the penalty spot, places the ball on it, takes several steps back. If Baggio scores the penalty, Italy could win the World Cup, and he’ll be remembered forever…
Baggio begins his runup. In the stadium and in cities around the world, hearts screech to a halt. He has been the star of the tournament, the standout player by several miles…
Baggio completes his runup, he kicks the ball, it sails over the spot, past the goalkeeper, over the bar, and into the stands. He misses. Brazil wins the World Cup. For an eternity and then some, Baggio, arms on waist, head bowed, is rooted to the spot. He hasn’t moved since the ball was kicked. Somewhere in the distance, a commentator says “Baggio died standing”…
Memories…Do not Open is the title of my favourite The Chainsmokers album. That title feels more like a loud warning than a subtle reminder.
On the right side of my office desk sits a spinning top, a memento from Inception, one of my favourite movies. When I spin it, I often drift to the last time I watched the movie with one of my favourite people. As the top whirls, I think more about the person than the movie. Eventually, the top stops spinning. The thoughts don’t.
These days, parts of my life feel like a museum. I turn the key and get instantly swamped by a deluge of thoughts from a day that is not today. There are books on my shelves, notes in a box, and a small army of daily habits and gestures, all tied with people-shaped apron-strings.
When we experience people and have great memories with them, we die standing. When I take a step back and gaze into the animated sea of memories, I feel like an insect stuck in amber, forever frozen in moments. In certain spots, there’s laughter on my face, in others, a frown, in another, a nickname on my lips.
In a lot of ways, I am stuck standing, living in those moments, laughing, smirking, shaking my head, the many motions of thinking and overthinking and trying to take it all in. The “how”, the “what”, the “why did this have to happen?”, the “I should have done better or handled that differently”…
In these moments, I fully understand Baggio standing still for as long as he did. Just looking into the blur and taking in the gravity of the moment, knowing that nothing will be the same again.
When it comes to life and people, I am as inspired by the dying words of Don Corleone (“Life is beautiful”) as I am by the words of Mo Gilligan when he said “Money comes and goes, but friends are the family that you choose forever” in his new special. You should watch it; it’s one of the best things I have watched this year.
When I go through my bank statement, I cannot remember how every alert made me feel. With friends, it’s a mixed bag. A gallery of random pictures make remember inside jokes followed by raucous laughter, nicknames, and conversations that only ended because the Sun had set several hours before and there was work the next day.
On a random Friday evening, my phone lights up with a call from someone I haven’t seen in half a decade, the minutes pass and leave a reminder that time and distance can only dim, never kill, affection.
In my experience, moving on from people-shaped memories is such a hard task. You want to move but your feet have a mind of their own and even if they didn’t, there’s an anchor of memories holding you in place. Even movement comes with its own burden. Where do you stash the inside jokes, the nicknames, the memories, the plans?
Be here for the next one
In a recent video of Roberto Baggio, he’s visiting a stadium. He waves to the fans and apologises for the miss in 1994. The ponytail is gone. The regret lingers. And I get it. If he could, he would do so much differently. And that’s life. We only get so many chances to do things the way they turn out…
In the years to come, some memories make your face give birth to a smirk, others cause your eyes to dim and leave you just staring into the distance, a top spinning on your office desk, your arms akimbo, staring into the beautiful chaos of it all.
What remains, remains…
See you soon.
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