It’s funny how a single word can carry so much weight, isn’t it? Take ‘amateur,’ for instance. We often toss it around, sometimes with a hint of condescension, other times with a grudging respect. It conjures images of someone dabbling, someone not quite serious, someone… well, not professional.
I was recently reminded of this when I stumbled across a short film titled Amateurs. It’s about an amateur boxer with dreams of going pro, but before he can even think about the big leagues, he has to navigate the choppy waters of jealousy from other boxers and the often-shady dealings of promoters. It’s a classic underdog story, really, where the 'amateur' status is just a hurdle, a temporary state before the real work begins.
But the word 'amateur' can be a bit of a slippery character. It’s not just in sports. I recall reading an essay that brought up a rather amusing anecdote about a childhood acquaintance who, when interviewed by a local paper, declared his passion for 'cybernetics.' He didn't actually know what cybernetics was; it just sounded impressive, futuristic, and scientific. He used it to sound knowledgeable, to impress. It was a word, a label, that he attached to himself without truly understanding its substance. The author of the essay used this story to draw a parallel with certain academics who, like this acquaintance, use jargon and complex terms from fields they barely grasp to appear profound. They borrow concepts, sprinkle them into their work, and rely on their audience’s likely ignorance to maintain an aura of intellectual superiority. It’s a bit like wearing a fancy suit without knowing how to tie the tie – it looks the part, but the substance is missing.
This brings us back to the boxer. His 'amateur' status is a starting point, a phase of development. He’s not defined by it; he’s actively trying to move beyond it. He’s putting in the hours, facing the challenges, and honing his skills with the explicit goal of becoming a professional. His passion is real, his dedication is evident, and his ambition is clear. The label 'amateur' in his case is simply a descriptor of his current stage, not a reflection of his commitment or potential.
It makes you wonder, doesn't it? When do we stop being 'amateurs' and start being 'professionals'? Is it a formal designation, a certain number of wins, a paycheck? Or is it more about the internal drive, the relentless pursuit of mastery, the willingness to face down those jealous rivals and tricky promoters, whether in the ring or in the realm of ideas? Perhaps the true 'amateur' isn't the one who is still learning, but the one who uses labels to mask a lack of genuine engagement, much like that childhood acquaintance with his borrowed word.
