The Big Game

Good afternoon, all!  Took a short hiatus, but chose a quasi-national holiday to come back!  Can't really fault me, many a good TV series has had its premiere right before or right after the Super Bowl - seems smart for me to follow suit.

You don't have to be a football fan to know this, but this is the end of a long season for two teams.  Regardless of what happened in the regular season or the playoffs, what happens today really counts.  This one is for all the marbles, for all the glory, for the big parade in the city that team represents.

Well, that's for the players and coaches.  How about you?

You got an even better deal than they do, believe it or not.  In the NFL, you might get eliminated from the playoffs and not make it anywhere near the Big Game without a ticket.  In real life, your season does not end until Divine Providence chooses to end it for you, and not before.

Your Big Game does not have to only come once a year.  You don't need any kind of regular season record, home advantage, or even a bigger stadium to get there.  You just have to play to win.  And the winning formula is made clear and obvious by the Four Pillars.

It's very likely that some of you reading these words might not feel like such winners.  Maybe someone has told you that you don't measure up to their standards, and you accepted that assessment as fact.  Maybe someone thought laughing at your inadequacies in front of an enabling audience was a fun thing to do, and it left a bruise.  Maybe someone pushed you to a breaking point, and you actually broke.

Good news, everyone.  The damages recited above are all curable.  They can be removed like they never even happened.  And once they are removed, you're ready to suit up for your own Big Game.  The prize will not be the Vince Lombardi Trophy, but if you win, you'll earn something far more valuable:  Dignity.  Self-Respect.  Emotional Maturity.  Confidence.  Power. 

Today, you can watch someone else make it happen.  Tomorrow, it's your turn.

I EXIST.  I MATTER.  I BELONG.  I DESERVE.

I AM BOLD.  I AM BULLETPROOF.  I AM BETA.

Going Incognito

You knew I was gonna go there.  You knew I was not going to stay silent on this issue!

When it gets to the point that even the atmosphere in an NFL locker room is crossing the line, something has got to give.  I commend the Miami Dolphins for taking the proper action against someone whose actions went beyond harmless horseplay.

People think that a "real" man can't be abused, or bullied, or manipulated just because.  Just because of what?  He could just kick someone's ass?  Because he should be able to "just take it?"  The very thought of this is sexist in and of itself.  You don't know what's going on inside that guy's head.

We don't live in a comic book, the jungle, or the old west, and most of us aren't in high school anymore, so don't tell me that kicking ass is the only way to solve problems.  Yes, I agree that there really are people who deserve to get smacked as hard as possible, due to the aforementioned inability to behave like adults.  But they're the animals, not us, so let's not try to play dirty like them as long as we can help it.

People love saying that if someone is being bullied, then it's the victim's fault.  I put very little stock in that.  More likely, the perpetrator has issues that were never dealt with, or better yet, maybe they had parents who just got too lazy to discipline them, and couldn't explain that there's a way you behave and there's a way you don't.  No, I think that bullying escalates less because someone "asks for it," and more because early childhood behavior was not properly guided.  Hence one of my many catch-phrases, Teach These Damn Kids How To Behave.  It's for damn sure you can't teach them anything of the sort once they reach adulthood, or turn pro!  This is why we have anti-bullying laws, because society does not owe them a free lifetime pass of "just ignoring them."

I was already working on this before, but now that this story broke, here it is:

The Animal attains goals through aggression and dominance, and fear and intimidation.

The Man does so through intelligence, within the bounds of basic ethics.

The Animal follows a herd and engages in groupthink.

The Man thinks for himself and chooses whether or not to follow the herd.

The Animal bullies, plunders, and usurps.

The Man treats others with respect.

The Animal thinks nothing of causing harm.

The Man chooses his battles wisely.

The Animal does not understand right or wrong.

The Man does.

Now that this unfortunate news has coincided with the new, and more accurate, title I've given this blog, you're gonna see a little more of this.  The notion that you have to do something just because you're a man, and someone thinks every man should do it, is no less sexist than saying that a woman's place is in the home, barefoot and pregnant.

So, gentlemen, which would you rather be.  A Man, or an Animal?  If you're not sure, then let the above suggestions guide you towards "manning up!"

I EXIST.  I MATTER.  I BELONG.  I DESERVE.

Not Just The Big Game!

Hey All --

Sorry I missed my usual Sunday night spot.  However, I spent that night at the home of my friends on Long Island, hanging with their kids, and watching the Super Bowl.  In all the post-game euphoria, as well as my trip home to get ready for work the next day, I just couldn't really sling it together.

But I can share with you a few scenes from that Super Bowl weekend that made me smile.  First, I'm proud of my godson's older brother!  The day of the Super Bowl, both boys went to the high school track to let off a little steam -- the kid is 7 1/2 years old, and he ran 2 miles around the track without stopping!  Unreal!  As it happened, the high school track coach was in the vicinity and came over to his mom to compliment her on her son's perfect form!  He suggested that she have him run every day, so that by the time he hits 9th grade, he can go out for the team!!!! 

You know that seals the deal for me -- say what you want about Eli Manning, Justin Tuck, Jason Pierre-Paul, and Mario Manningham, that weekend this kid was athlete of the year to me!

Another scene that made me smile was an attempt to do something slightly uncomfortable to make a child happy.  My godson received as a present from a well-meaning relative a model roller-coaster kit.  This thing, when finished, would measure six feet by six feet, had a motor, would be the envy of all who saw it or played with it.  Essentially, it was a model train set taken to the next level!

While this would be played with by children ages newborn to 7 1/2 years, it was meant to be assembled by ages 10+ -- with a degree in engineering!  The three grown men in the house who tried to follow the directions step by step found themselves stymied not by what they said, but what they didn't say.  While we were smart to build this device in sections, the directions had absolutely NO EXPLANATION how these sections would all come together.  In fact, part of these directions told us to build portions of the roller coaster incorrectly.  This led our faithful band, two of whom were familiar with the concepts of construction and wiring, down the path of oblivion, leaving us with a scarier feeling than the steepest roller coaster drop.  I myself was left to wonder why, if I had legs sturdy enough to carry me 26 miles, I felt as sore as I did kneeling on the floor while navigating this infrastructure.

In the end, the call of game-time caused us to halt construction on our mini-scream machine before it could be finished.  However, we promised our young charges that we'd finish it for them another time.  A lesson to carry with me whenever I reproduce my progeny -- part of fatherhood necessarily includes putting things together that make no sense for the sake of children's happiness.  I would feel even greater happiness later knowing that Gisele Bundchen would not take us to task for not finishing the job.

Last but not least, was my favorite part of Super Bowl Sunday -- explaining the game of football to my father.  G-D bless him, the man is the anti-sports fan!  He came from a generation that thought sports was a waste of time, and so never picked up the difference between a two-point conversion and a third-down conversion.  So every year, this would be my time to teach him the basic fundamentals of the game -- no, kicking it through the uprights is not a "hat trick," and he didn't score a "home run" when he reached the end zone, and there is no "free throw!"  This year I called him at halftime to keep the tradition going.

And so was the way I spent the un-official American holiday of Super Bowl Sunday -- with a bunch of good friends, young and old.  I ingested and imbibed a large amount of food and drink that would melt my insides if it were my normal diet.  I felt young again the way only kids can make you feel young again.  And even though I remain a proud Jets fan, it still felt good to see the Giants win.  Now all Rex and the boys have to do is put in a season just like that.

So now, as we enter the dead zone of the professional sports calendar -- spring training weeks away, hockey and basketball playoffs months away, and no clue what happens with soccer -- it's better to let other pursuits grab our attention.  I'll be back to my normal Sunday night jam, and I'll look for those who like this blog to keep on commenting, including this "Anonymous" person, whomever he or she might be!  ;)

As I advance towards this year's NYC Marathon, I'll be sharing my progress as I seek a PR in the Super Bowl of running!  More inspirational posts to follow . . . .

When Regrets Matter.

Good Evening, All.

This post is going up a little late, since I got swept up in the big playoff games.  All things being equal, I would have rather seen my Jets paying at this level, as they did last year, but I was still happy to see the Giants win IN OVERTIME to win the NFC Championship.  As I was telling a friend of mine, when football is played at this level, I want to see a CLOSE game, with both teams getting ahead and falling behind, with no clear winner until the very end.  Otherwise, if it's a one-sided blowout, I'll just change the channel.

What we'll all remember about both championship games is that the kickers made the difference.  In the AFC game, a kicker could have put the Ravens into overtime with a field goal, but poor guy, he missed.  In the NFC game, a kicker won it once overtime already happened. 

Strange thing about football -- most of the game is won or lost on tough defense, accurate passing, and fast running, which most of the players must be well-versed in, but sometimes the winning score is made by one guy on the team who only specializes in that one skill.  While everyone else is taking the hits, rehabbing the injuries, hitting the weights, and talking the trash, this one guy just hones his accuracy in that one skill that nobody else practices but him.  If he wins the game for the team, people shake his hand and then pass him by to give more accolades to the quarterback, running backs, and linebackers.  If he loses the game for the team, then he gets all the criticism and blame.  Not such an easy position to play, by any means.  Success is always a team effort, but failure is his alone.

It goes without saying that I'm always looking out for the little guy.  Since most of those kickers are much leaner than your typical behemoth-like player, kickers would certainly qualify as the little guy in more ways than one.  I'm glad that today's championship games reminded us all to remember the little guys, because they truly can make the biggest difference in this game.  For those of you reading this in the DC/Baltimore area, try to go easy on your little guy -- he had a lot riding on him.  And even if nobody said anything about it, he'd still know it and remember it.  Everything I've posted about not attacking people for making mistakes definitely applies to him, and everything I've posted about not flagellating yourselves when you make mistakes applies even more.

That being said, since these kickers have an advantage of longevity.  Since they are exempt from absorbing the impact that most quarterbacks and halfbacks are expected to risk, their careers can last significantly longer.  I'm sure that Baltimore's kicker will be back next year -- maybe not with the Ravens, from the chatter I hear, but certainly with another team.  He'll have another chance to be a winner before his career ends, and his peers will hopefully stop thinking of him as "the guy who choked."

A friend of mine recently shared a link on Facebook that highlighted real regrets:  In this link, a nurse who cared for the terminally ill on their deathbeds recalled the regrets people had as they neared the end.  People faced with the end of their lives regretted forfeiting their goals, not being true to themselves, and not being happy more often.  This nurse, however, did not recall patients regretting any specific mistakes, slip-ups, or choke-ups.  That's because the deathbed is the time when we're all faced with our own evaluations, and not those of others.  That Baltimore kicker will probably live a long and fulfilling life.  Even if Ravens fans forever tar and feather his reputation, he will probably be more interested in doing more with his life than questioning whether the geometry and physics of that one play should have been realigned differently.  I sincerely doubt he'll regret the end of a 2012 playoff game on his deathbed -- and he shouldn't!

For those of you on Facebook who know her, I encourage you to visit her Wall and click on that link -- it'll make you put everything in proper perspective.

Not to make this a double portion, but the topics of football and deathbed regrets are converging on the memory of one venerated college football coach -- Mr. Joe Paterno, who passed away today.  Sadly, he may very well have had some deathbed regrets that had nothing to do with his storied coaching career.  Unfortunately, these regrets led to the end of his career.  However, that should not have been his regret.  He already paid the appropriate price for what he did wrong, or did not do right, with regard to his assistant coaches, by having his career taken from him.  He was still a winner who set high standards for his players, his staff, and for Pennsylvania State University itself.  Once he paid the price, his misfeasance or nonfeasance was purged from his system.  I can only hope that he left this earth with memories of national championships and undefeated seasons, and not of talk shows and tabloid journalism.

Have a good week all -- and don't be afraid to comment!