Do-overs are a tried and true tradition among the younger set. It is a relatively civilized way to resolve conflicts. The thing that sometimes gets left aside in these matters is those situations in which one party was correct in the first place, but then ends up on the wrong end on the do-over. Take it from an elementary school teacher: hard feelings abound in spite of the push of the reset button.
News from this past week reinvigorated my sense of justice and its relation to the playground. Lyle and Eric Menendez are inching their way toward freedom after more than three decades spent in prison for the murder of their parents back in 1989. Their sensational tabloid trial way back when ended with the two brothers being sentenced to life without parole. At the time, Eric and Lyle's attorneys insisted that the boys, eighteen and twenty-one at the time of the crime, were acting in self-defense after years of physical and sexual abuse. Last year, the Los Angeles County District Attorney recommended that the boys who are now men be resentenced in accordance with California's youthful offender law because they committed the murders before they were twenty-six. That and apparently new evidence that came to light via a Netflix documentary on the brothers suggested that new evidence might change the previous ruling.
Which seems fair.
But it sets my mind to wondering about karma and how that account will be settled over eternity.
I have similar wondering about professional baseball's decision to reinstate "Shoeless" Joe Jackson and Pete "Charlie Hustle" Rose, making them both eligible for induction into the Major League Hall of Fame. The one for baseball, that is. Prior to this, both men had been declared ineligible for gambling on the game that brought them fortune and fame. Or at least infamy. Commissioner of Baseball ruled that the conditions laid out by Rule 21 had been satisfied after Pete Rose died last September. Mister Jackson was allowed back in under the same process, even though he passed away seventy-four years ago.
Which seems fair.
Meanwhile Barry Bonds, who holds the all-time Major League record for home runs and was never suspended or declared ineligible by the powers that be has to be wondering what he has to do to get a chance at the Hall of Fame.
All of which leads me to the immediate resolution of Ro-Sham-Bo, or Rock, Paper, Scissors. The winner moves on. The loser goes to the end of the line. And if you think there aren't cries for "best two out of three" or tears from the loser, well you haven't spent as much time on the playground as I have.
Which seems fair.
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