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Better Call Saul: it’s all good man, in the end the winner takes it all

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Jimmy McGill (a.k.a. Saul Goodman): “You didn’t get it. You were never gonna get it. They dangle these things in front of you, they tell you you’ve got a chance — but it’s a lie. Far as they’re concerned, your mistake is who you are. It’s all you are. I’m not just talking about this scholarship — I’m talking about everything. Look, I read your essay. You can do it the way you’re supposed to, you can work fifty times harder than the rest of them. Makes no difference. They’ll smile at you, they’ll pat you on the head — but they’re never, ever gonna let you in. But listen. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need them. They’re not gonna give it to you? So what! You’re gonna take it. You’re gonna do whatever it takes. Do what they won’t. Cut corners. And win. The higher you climb, the more they’re gonna hate you. You don’t matter all that much to them? Then screw them. Winner takes it all.”

You know, it’s been a while since I watched Breaking Bad. I was 17 years old. It was a pretty horrible period of my life. My first friendzone, my isolation time, my wounded ego, and a deep desire to win and become someone in life. No wonder I empathized so much with Walter White. He was an underdog (worse, he was an underachiever), not respected, and he truly believed he was made for something more.

Jimmy McGill? Saul Goodman? A search for identity between neon lights, crime and tremendous fashion style

A mediocre job, a mediocre life, and a more than mediocre approach to it. The first thing he did when he found out he had cancer? Use his incredible chemistry knowledge to cook methamphetamine. The first time I saw it, well, I simply thought it was the most brilliant piece of fiction ever created. I loved the guy, and I loved seeing him finally snap, take action, and finally become a winner. Mind you, I was 17 and had a moral compass slightly altered by a horrible experience in high school (more than one horrible experience).

The thing is, I felt like Walt. I felt entitled to stuff and got angry when people thought otherwise. I had so much desire to change my situation. It took me more than a year to get my first wins in life, and not a single one happened in Ostia (the place where I was born). I was not smart or lucky or a strategist like Walt, but I feel like I played a good game with the hand I was dealt in life.

Fast-forward ten years… I now live in Japan and prefer Japanese storytelling to Western storytelling. But let’s take a break from manga and Murakami and focus on this amazing story: Better Call Saul, the TV show that explores the origin of the notorious Saul Goodman, Walter White’s lawyer.

Boy… I empathized with Walter, but it was nothing compared to Jimmy McGill’s story (Goodman’s real name). Before Saul Goodman, the fancy suits and Walter White’s empire, there was Jimmy McGill, a struggling lawyer trying to make it big and leave his past as a con man behind. The thing that really connects me to this guy is how hard he tried to be a good person and play by the rules.

I could honestly see Jimmy as a brilliant lawyer. There was no ego in him (at least not like Walter); he wanted to make his brother Chuck proud and live a good life with Kim, the woman he loved. The sad thing? He had all the cards to do it.

Jimmy’s office… way better than what I used to have when I worked as a broker (don’t ask)

He genuinely tried not to be a morally ambiguous character. His brother, Chuck McGill, was a tremendous lawyer; Jimmy lived in his shadow, and, a bit like Walt, Jimmy wanted something more. Maybe recognition. Maybe respect. Maybe something more. He pulled some cons during his youth that gave him the nickname Slipping Jimmy.

He also went to jail, but he vowed to be a better person: he studied for years without telling anyone in order to pass the bar and become a lawyer and be like his brother. Chuck’s mind, however, could not even fathom a different Jimmy. For him, Jimmy would always be Slipping Jimmy.

A con artist with a law degree? Something completely dangerous and out of touch. Whatever Jimmy did, he could not gain Chuck’s respect or acknowledgment. So, maybe, the virtuous road was not enough. Maybe Jimmy had to cut corners and do something else in order to gain some respect. Sometimes, I wonder, would Jimmy have become Saul Goodman if Chuck had fully supported him? Is Saul a product of the circumstances he was born into? Or maybe Chuck was right all along, and Jimmy could not help his nature and would always have been Slipping Jimmy?

I think I am making the same mistake I made in high school. Our traumas (even the most terrible ones) do not give us an excuse to be criminals. The show’s writers did an amazing job of analyzing Jimmy and making us empathize with him. Yes, he had a horrible hand. Yes, people treated him harshly. Yes, he was deeply misunderstood, even by his own brother. But he became Saul Goodman because he wanted to, just like Walter chose to be Heisenberg. The cancer was not the reason (it was never the reason to start with, since people offered him financial help from the start). He wanted to be a criminal; he wanted to feel in charge of his life.

Jimmy and Chuck (really look like brothers)

He wanted the respect he felt like he deserved. And Saul? It’s not completely different, even though he is infinitely more likeable than Walt.

However, there is one thing that always resonates with me. His speech to a young girl who did not obtain a scholarship. “The higher you climb, the more they’re gonna hate you. Good. Rub their noses in it. Make ‘em suffer. You don’t matter all that much to them? Then screw them. Winner takes it all.”

He was not talking to her. He was talking to himself. He was trying to numb Chuck’s presence. He was trying to completely annihilate Jimmy McGill and let Saul Goodman be born. And, to some extent, I think it’s right.

The winner really takes it all. I think this message can only be fully understood by people who have been completely looked down on at least once in their lives. There is no worse feeling than losing, just as there is no better feeling than winning. But let’s not forget what we are really aiming for here. Shortcuts (such as Saul Goodman and Heisenberg) inevitably lead to downfall. I am not saying it’s wrong to have fantasies about winning and having a comeback. I am saying that it should not be our main goal. People come and go (more often go than come), and, in the end, we are alone with ourselves. My demons from childhood and high school? They live only in my head, and they’re merely projections. Trauma can result in taking action and breaking the inertia. But letting it become your entire personality? That’s a completely different story.

Creating something good out of the trauma that happened to us in order to become a version of ourselves that we enjoy: I think this is the ultimate endgame and the ultimate win in life. But my game has not ended yet. As long as we are playing, losing is just psychological. Don’t worry too much — it’s all good, man. And in the end, the winner really takes it all.

P.S. Thanks a lot to Frogs are Evil for the follow. I really appreciated it!

Yokosuka Blues, Shenmue and a can of coffee

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I used to dream about this moment. Dobuita Street never seemed so beautiful and nostalgic. It’s my first time here, but I know my way around. I walk past the flower shop, but Nozomi is not there. I guess it’s to be expected; it’s exam season, and she has plans to move overseas.

Every time I mention her to my friends, they cannot help but giggle. I wonder why.

I should be in school as well, but today I had to train with my father. This year the tournament will be held in Yokosuka. My head kind of hurts from all the jabs I have received, but I feel like my defense is improving.

I feel the first drop of rain. The sailors are already meeting at the bars. I always feel like they have too much time to kill.

I decide to visit Tom and get a hot dog. “Hey, Freddy!” he shouts at me in his broken Japanese.

“Freddy? What do you mean?” I want to ask, but I decide to ignore it.

“Hey, Tom… Can I get a hot dog?”

“Of course! Still a black eye, huh? You guys sure do not hold back!”

“You can’t improve if you don’t suffer a bit. I guess that’s life.”

“So young, yet so wise. Do all 28-year-olds speak like you?”

Last time I checked, I was 18, but I still do not correct him. With all the customers he has, he is probably confusing me with someone else, even though I may appear older than I am.

On the other side of the sidewalk, I notice Goro, the wannabe bosozoku, waving at me.

“Tell me… how is life treating you? How is your father?” asks Tom while he prepares the ingredients.

“Busy. He is kind of busy with work, but he still has enough time to train me. You know, with the competition and all the rest…”

“It’s a good thing, Ryo. My father was hardly around. Family is important. Don’t take for granted the time you have with him. When life gets tough, you can still talk to him.”

“You know, Tom… it’s funny you mention that. It has been pretty tough, actually.”

“How so?”

I reply:

“I have no idea what to do. The future is uncertain. I am not even sure if I will be able to stay here. Every day becomes a little harder to wake up. I need to fight both the past and the present. The only time I feel something is when I get punched.

I think I am not special, and that I probably never will be. Mediocre at what I do best. I am afraid the echoes of the past will win.I think there is no such thing as a prize in this world. Every time I get what I want, I simply think I did what I was supposed to do. When I don’t get what I want, I feel like I am not enough.

Every failure I gather in the present keeps adding to the ones I had in the past. There was a time when I enjoyed writing and creating new worlds with different characters, but they stole that from me too. And the thing is, they didn’t really steal it. I let them take it. You know what I mean?”

Or, at least, this is what I want to tell him.

But somehow I just say:

“School and everything.”

He whispers something like: “Oh, what I would do to have those problems and be so young again, take care Struggler.” Or something like that.

He hands me the hot dog, I pay him, and I leave. It’s starting to snow. I wonder if my father is alright. I wonder if Nozomi is alright. I buy a can of coffee from a vending machine. I sit on a bench in the park next to the shrine beneath the falling snow.

Despite all of this, I feel grateful. Ryo, Freddy, Struggler… whoever I am. I sip the coffee and I can’t help but smile. Despite everything, I am exactly where I need to be.

Scuola, odio e Pink Floyd

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Ho sempre odiato la scuola. Mi piaceva imparare. Alcune materie le trovavo persino interessanti. Ciò che non sopportavo era svegliarmi alle 07:00, prendere i mezzi pubblici e parcheggiarmi per sei ore su una sedia in mezzo ad altri 22 ragazzi. Non mi sono mai sentito a mio agio nei luoghi sovraffollati e alcune persone, soprattutto gli insegnanti, non facevano che rinfacciarmelo. “Perché non parli mai?” “Sei muto?” E, spesso, queste considerazioni da premio Nobel provocavano più di una risata tra i miei compagni di classe. Dicono che la scuola ti prepari alla vita e non potrei essere più d’accordo.

La scuola ti prepara a passare il resto della tua vita a svegliarti presto, a incurvati le spalle su una metro, a passare le giornate con persone che preferiresti evitare, ad ascoltare i tuoi superiori (insegnanti, capi: fa lo stesso) a dirti cosa fare con un vago cenno di frustrazione nelle loro voci perché anche loro non vorrebbero essere in quel posto.

Forse la faccio un po’ tragica. Non tutti gli insegnanti erano così male e non tutti godevano nell’asserire autorità a dei ragazzini con rimarchi più che discutibili. La maggior parte sì. Credevo di essere l’unico ad aver avuto un’esperienza orribile al liceo ma sta di fatto che non è così. Con chiunque abbia avuto modo di parlare, la scuola – soprattutto il liceo – è stato percepito come un periodo se non orribile, perlomeno negativo. Ma, come direbbe il professor Oak in Pokémon, non è questo il luogo o il momento per muovere una critica al sistema scolastico. La scuola è essenziale per la crescita mentale di un individuo. Letteratura, matematica, arti, scienze: tutto è fondamentale. Ma la scuola raramente si basa sull’apprendimento delle materie, basandosi di più su una burocrazia infondata e insensata che non porta a risultati tangibili.  

low angle photo of two men fighting in boxing ring
Come avveniva il confronto con il mio professore nella mia testa. Montante e gancio sinistro. Una delle mie combinazioni preferite.

Si sta avvicinando la mia stagione preferita, l’autunno. Già oggi ho visto un bambino insieme alla mamma che comprava un quaderno a righe e un compasso. Ciò mi ha fatto tornare alla mente ricordi che avrei preferito dimenticare. Ore e ore della mia vita a sentirmi inadeguato e depresso in un’aula anonima di provincia. L’unica cosa positiva di quel periodo era la mia ragazza e Il Trono di Spade. A pensarci bene, forse, la colpa non è del sistema scolastico ma solo mia. Se avessi avuto una bella esperienza le mie parole sarebbero ben diverse.

Eppure, sono grato di non essere più uno di quei bambini costretti a varcare le porte di un liceo. E sono ancora più grato di non essere uno che varca le porte di un ufficio. Ogni volta che entravo in quei posti mi sentivo un animale pronto per essere macellato. Forse anche i Pink Floyd si sono sentiti così. Quel video è stata un’esperienza catartica.

“Don’t be another brick in the wall…”

Io lo sono stato per troppo tempo. Mi ricordo ancora quando mio padre mi diceva: “Adesso odi la scuola ma da grande ti mancherà tutta questa spensieratezza e vorrai tornare indietro per rivivere questi meravigliosi anni!”

Preferirei un avvelenamento da cianuro piuttosto che rivivere quegli anni. Ho ventiquattro anni, un pelo grigio nella mia barba da tre giorni, lavoro da remoto, ho quattro paia di jeans e vivo in una casa in affitto lontano dal posto in cui sono nato. Non è molto ma in confronto a quell’obbrobrio della mia vita a sedici anni mi sento Elon Musk. E, cosa più importate, ho un obiettivo, un sogno e qualcosa di tangibile a cui aggrapparmi. Quella scuola non è stato altro che un inferno per me. Credevo di averla lasciata una volta per tutte dopo un ricco 95/100 alla fine degli esami. Ma le cicatrici sono ancora qui dentro di me. A volte odio me stesso per lasciare che il passato mi influenzi ancora. Ho una lunga strada di fronte a me ma sono fiducioso.

Sono grato di ciò che mi è successo. Le esperienze negative possono essere tanto utili, se non più utili, di quelle positive. I rimpianti sono per i perdenti. Ciò che è accaduto è accaduto. Tanto vale imparare la lezione e andare avanti. Non si può cambiare il passato, ma si può agire nel presente e cambiare il futuro. Questo è già qualcosa.

Buona fortuna per chiunque sia ancora alle prese con le mirabolanti avventure nel sistema scolastico.