The Olympic Challenge

I enjoy the Olympics. 

I enjoy the ideals espoused and, in large, followed.

The Olympic Creed, drafted in 1908 by Pierre de Coubertin, father of the modern Olympics, reads as follows:

"The most important thing in the Olympic games is not to win but to take part, 

just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. 

The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well."

I gain inspiration from that creed.

It reminds me of what, in my view, is truly best about sport - not the victories or the fame or the grandness of hardware received, but merely engaging the desire to compete. Not as profession or a means to an end, but simply competition for competition sake with people from all over the world who share that enthusiasm.

That enthusiasm is not so terribly different than what I recall playing sports as a kid. The pure enjoyment derived from playing a game for no other reason than to challenge oneself to perform. The ability and desire to load upon oneself self-doubt along with confidence, power with control, rage with calm, fear with courage, to willingly put oneself in a position to fail or succeed.

Having been an active kid, I recall only wanting to play any sport or game I could get my hands on.  I settled on a few favorites but I often tell people that I grew up playing golf. I mean this as frame of reference in time but also in regard to mental maturity. Golfers will understand what I mean. Golf, when in its most essential form, has a way of making us all very humble and also keeping us very equal. Size and strength really matters very little when it comes to golfing success. It was from that sport I learned at an early age what failure is like... frequently.

What I also learned is that when one continues to try, successes will also become apparent. I consider myself quite lucky in that most of my friends growing up felt the same way as I did and we all loved to compete with and against each other. Whether it was a fully sanctioned league game of some sort or a simple backyard challenge, I enjoyed whatever form it took. Not realizing it at the time, those days spent playing sports and games were all little defining moments in my growth to adulthood.

In my adulthood ironically, and especially I find when one has a family to be concerned with, I wonder if I too easily recuse myself from challenges, seeking the security that comes from experience and the 'knowns'. As a parent I feel often as if I default to a place of low-risk security in an attempt to provide that solid platform for my children to learn to test their own limits. I also wonder if sometimes I couldn't better exemplify behavior toward challenges by testing myself more, showing them how I define and respond to success and failure.

It's often said we learn most from our failures, and less from our successes. I happen to agree. That fact that failures are so often frequent is also what makes those fleeting moments of success all the sweeter. The Olympics exemplify this on the highest level and for that I am grateful to witness.

It also serves as a reminder that there is a little bit of Olympian in all of us... 
if we choose to embrace it.

Current Sports Umbrage and Proposed Solutions

Cleaning out various physically cluttered areas of one's domicile or workplace also leads to considering where else might the general clutter in one's life be, physical or otherwise. Today's housecleaning will address some of the clutter from the sports world that occupies a (perhaps all too large) percentage of my mental energies.


Indiana High School Class Basketball 
Over four decades of life in this state and two decades of living with the changed system from single-class high-school basketball tournament to four classed tournaments leads me to this conclusion - IT SUCKS. Little pride or excitement remains for a tournament which formerly was the stuff of legend (I'd argue envy of other states) and part of the identity of the entire state. One of the greatest sports movies by most accounts, Hoosiers, is a tale based on it. 


'Hoosier Hysteria' (the origin of which can be attributed to basketball's inventor James Naismith's agreement that Indiana was the sport's spiritual home) associated with the original tournament gave us frequent 'David versus Goliath' match-ups throughout the many levels of the tournament that resonated with the people of a flyover state where national attention is a rare as a hurricane. Even the tournament's draw was televised because of the intrigue with learning who your favorite school would play. Most everyone celebrates the underdog in its struggle to overcome the larger foe - mainly because, in my view, we identify more with them as people and especially as residents of Indiana. So it was for Indiana High School basketball then and no matter if it was the early upset win in a sectional (the first and most local rounds of the tournament) or the state final, it gave the smaller teams their shot at enduring glory. 


By adopting a four-class system for the 1998 tournament (even with the four class state champions playing off in a 'Tournament of Champions' however) most fans agree that the intrigue, mystique, and legendary passion for the sport and the state's championship has waned considerably and left a state with no 'true' champion for which we yearn. Another example of the popularity of this come-all, wide-open type of single-class system can be found in the FA (Football Association) Cup Tournament in England's most-beloved sport of football. I believe this to be a net negative for the students, parents, schools, and residents of this state. Many valuable life lessons are learned through participation in athletics and the size-delineated tournaments only serve to amplify a thought that differences are to be maintained, not celebrated.


Solution: 
Re-instate single-class basketball. Simple as that. I'm not sure just how much or how little it would actually take to acheive, but were it actually put in the most-democratic form of a statewide referendum, I'd put dollars to donuts the vote would go 70-30 or better in favor of returning to a single-class, single-elimination high-school basketball tournament.


It is a true head-scratcher to me that the IHSAA ever saw the multiple class system as an answer to a question no one was asking. Fixing what isn't broken has never been the Hoosier way. Fix Indiana high-school basketball.

The Search is Over.

Of course you, my terrific tens of readers, have been patiently waiting for an update to my thoughts on supportership of an English Premier League team from December and today you shall not be disappointed... except that to begin to understand my pain, you must watch this entire 4:04 video, which will feel more like 19 minutes of unanesthetized dental horrors:

The lyrics are insignificant. What is important is the utterly painful sounds and visuals this cubic-zirconia of an 80s musical gem offers. 


Now that you've endured it, you must know watching that pales in comparison to the utter calamity and torture of watching a passenger train named Wigan Athletic wrecking down the side of a mountain... over the course of six years. Six years of mental anguish. Six loooong years. Six very looooong years of constant 'what-ifs', 'why-nots', and head-shaking. To be fair, there were some interspersed highlights, albeit counted on less than one-hand's worth, of which nearly all revolved around a final-week reprieve from the sporting gallows.


No matter the outcome of Wigan this season, I have now officially severed all emotional and sentimental ties to this club and after some deliberation have settled on a new club.  Here are the finalists:

Sunderland - a considerably-skilled squad with great kits, decent financial backing, great fans, and storied rivalry with local opposition Newcastle. The addition of one of my favored managers in Martin O'Neill was certainly a boost to the club and my consideration. Ellis Short, an American with Irish heritage, is the current majority owner after being a partner within the previous owners' consortium. The Black Cats appear to be on the upswing although have dallied up and down with the Premiership as recently as the mid-2000s

Everton - a storied and historic club whose 108 years in the top flight of English football is second to none. Coupled with steady manager in David Moyes, the English-owned outfit has maintained an upper-half level. Over it's history Everton has won the top flight 9 times, FA Cup 5, and League Cup twice. They have American keeper Tim Howard, have loaned-in American Landon Donovan, and maintain an historic and friendly rivalry, The Merseyside Derby, with 'The Reds' of Liverpool. The 'Blues' or 'Toffees' enjoy modest, yet continual success in the top flight, and dalliances with European football, often in the shadow of cross-river rivals Liverpool.  

Aston Villa - owned by American Randy Lerner, I have some admiration for a club who hails from what I call the 'Chicago' of England - Birmingham. It is the second largest metro area outside of London with historic recognition for manufacturing and production.  Blue-collar all the way, their storied Second-City Derby with rivals Birmingham City reminds one of the Cubs-White Sox divide. They also have one with nearby West Bromwich Albion which recalls the historic Chicago Bears-Green Bay Packers rivalry. Aside from football, Aston Villa has done incredible things within its community (such as donating 300 days of hospice care and the front shirt sponsorship space to Acorns Children's Hospice. They also champion local farming and food systems and provide considerable support to local employment and training services).


Certainly not an easy choice for me but I finally have settled comfortably on one of these clubs...

"And the winner is"...

EVERTON F.C.

Another reason I considered Everton, which I didn't state earlier, was that when I went about first selecting a club in 2006, I was down to Wigan and Everton. 'Smaller Upstart' vs. 'Establishment'. While I respected both views and with little separating the two then, I then made my final selection (rather embarrassingly now) on the style of the Home shirt.


With some years of experience now behind me, I can see what drew me to Everton originally is what I like about them today. Granted, their kits aren't the most nattily designed, but do have a continuity which I like.  You may soon see me in something of a solid Royal Blue with the Everton badge, so henceforth, you may consider me a 'Toffee' or a 'Blue' and a fan of "The People's Club".


I extend by thanks to all of you who conscientiously offered suggestions and gave well-reasoned input. It was not in vain and did help me determine what was most important in the evaluations of teams. Nil Satis Nisi Optimum is the motto and 'Nothing but the Best' is what I intend to give them and also look to receive.


As Survivor sang, " the search is over, you were with me all the while". It is my sincere desire to not be at this point again someday, so now, as an Evertonian, I must be true. 


True Blue.

Dr. Changeteam (or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Find a New EPL Team)

The torture for me is over... finally. 

EPL Table - Dec 5, 2012

With little mystery left as to the fate of Wigan Athletic's EPL status (despite not having even passed the mid-season/ December break yet), I can therefore begin the process of determining what may be next for me as a fan of English Premier League Football. 


It is with some regret (but more relief) that I must remove myself from the scattered hundreds of fans worldwide who support Wigan Athletic, for there is certainly no logical way this team will survive the top shelf of English Football beyond this season.


Since I have decided that personal sanity and mental well-being is more important than any loyalty to my very first EPL team, I am finding this bit of freedom in looking for a new team quite welcome. This is not an indictment of loyalty (more the opposite actually - maintaining loyalty to self-preservation), nor is it band-wagon-off-jumping as I see it more as self-preservation than fleeing a disaster. Think of it as losing that first love. Years from now, there will be clarity and a realization that it just wasn't meant to be, but you will always look back with fondness and wistful sentiment at those early days.


Unfortunately, and what does cause some considerable conflict at this point, is that much of what Wigan Athletic does as a professional sports organization, I have great respect for. By most all reports, owner Dave Whelan is generous, loyal, professional, and runs his local club in a proper manner. It is therefore sad to see such an honest, hard-working (albeit relatively small) club have to be relegated to a lower division because they cannot compete with the over-spending, hardware-seeking zealot owners from around the world who choose to 'smash-and-grab' their way into the top flight by spending beyond their means, often leaving their 'toy' with little choice but to be sold off to the next-in-line suck-errr... buyer.


I want the little club to triumph by being a well-run, financially-conservative club with an eye to longevity whose top-flight status is not a perennial question. Maybe that's too much to ask. Maybe FIFA's much-needed and more-equitable Financial Fair Play rules phasing in over the 2012, '13, and '14 seasons will come after the demise of Wigan's top-flight status. At any rate, it's become too much for me to shoulder anymore as a fan and I for my own good I need to change teams.  Top level stability is nothing but a predetermined security blanket in the American sports world to the delight of mega-buck owners with little impetus to defend their status and detriment to lovers of a more pure style of competition.


So in looking for a new team, and being faithful to my original tenets of club selection back in 2006 (in order of priority; EPL-level club, non-'Top-4' club, nice looking kits, English-owned, newer to the EPL), I am now a crossroads from which my future EPL fandom will set out. 


Option 1. Choose one of the three newly-promoted sides each season to cheer on with survival being the benchmark for success.
Option 2. Pick another club whose chances of survival are significantly greater and meets as many of my original tenets as possible.
Option 3. Get over my own limits, grab a big club, and bandwagon it like everybody else.


Here's where you, my beloved readers, come in: 

I am open to your input, so you therefore will help determine what my decision will be. 


Give me your selection of the three Options above in my comments section below. The most-popular suggestion will showdown with my personal favorite option to determine the system for selecting my next EPL club.

Childhood - TV Memories

Hopefully all of us had that sweet-spot time in our lives when we retained the joy of the insular and innocent phase of early childhood, yet were old enough to begin to view and appreciate the larger, mature world around us with an inquisitive sense of wonder. I place this time in my life at approximately ages 7 to 12, which dates approximately 1974-1979. 


For most at the time, the singular most accessible vehicle for entertainment (beyond ourselves) was television. VCRs were only an amazing bit of expensive technology on the horizon for the general public and cable TV was just a fantasy for those of us who lived outside the largest 30 American television markets. I look back at this being a fairly fortunate time to be watching TV, because it seems the looming 'threat' of cable programming to over-the-air TV made for some interesting gambles by the big three networks.


One particular show comes to mind and evidence of its popularity and influence on TV shows remains to this day. I refer to the pseudo-talent contest know as The Gong Show. Short of listing a synopsis and history of the show, which can be found numerous other places on the internet, I merely note the sheer fun and frivolity that occurred on the show as a standard but in particular a recurring bit known as Gene Gene the Dancing Machine.
  
Often thrown into the show at 'spontaneous' moments, the crowd would go wild and other cast members joyfully played along with the popular and special bit that had almost nothing to do with the contest format of the show. Gene was a stagehand whose wonderfully simple dancing, positive demeanor, and 'everyman' appearance eventually became popular enough to become a requested and regular feature on the show. 


The pure fun that this segment brought (at a time when economic and post-Vietnam War woes had the USA in a bit of a funk) was a welcome respite and elevated Gene to celebrity status.  I wish to thank Chuck Barris and Gene for brightening those darker days of the late-70s. Only recently did I find that, sadly, Gene lost both legs in 2001 to complications from diabetes. I am all the more thankful that we can relive that fun space in time via YouTube.


Without further ado, I present Gene Gene the Dancing Machine...

Addled w LLS - Lovable Losers Syndrome

My forward inertia, weakened by time and poor short-term memory, relents and backward I go, as if some addiction-addled junkie. Someone should really put me out of my misery or at least attempt an intervention.

"Hi, my name's DZ, and...  I'm a Wigan Athletic fan." **sobs openly**

Only while writing this do I realize the expected catharsis of openly stating my problem is instead serving to highlight and magnify it. My problem is... I'm a fan of demi-losers. 

I've somewhat proudly decided to not become one of the scads and kaboodles of dullard bandwagoneers who grab the brightest sports team to follow with blind attraction. Nope. Not me. I take time to consider many variables and settle on what seems right for me. Apparently, I'm a borderline loser, annual fodder for the lower tiers.

In a few short weeks I'm sure I'll be kicking myself for not having bailed on my first Barclays Premier League team selection (the details of which are too pithy to describe here) - Wigan Athletic. Certainly they will have already disappointed me by losing at least two of the first three matches of the season. All of which they should be winning. Those first three are all of the recently promoted clubs from the lower nPower Championship division of the English Football Association. 

You see, in the last 90 days of the previous season, my Wigan languished in the bottom three positions of the Barclays Premier League standings. Those lowest rungs, at the end of the season, are removed from the loftiest of the English Football Association ladder and sent down to what is the equivalent of the AAA in American baseball.  The whole of the club and ownership takes a knock, and generally includes an associated self-loathing by players, fans, towns they represent, everything. 'Relegation' it's called and is a wonderfully maddening and enticing system where the bottom three of 20 clubs go down (including less income, less TV money, less ability to spend on payroll, etc.) and the top three from the next lower division come up (promotion) to test their mettle. 

So as I stated, Wigan had been trod upon enough to be sitting near the foot of the table (standings) for most of the 2nd half of the season. Only by their near-miracle turnaround during May, did they scrape enough wins and draws to rise above and resuscitate their top-flight status.  Before that, in February, realizing the unlikelihood of their task ahead, I had vowed to dump them after the season as they were certainly going down. Good riddance to bad rubbish, and they OF COURSE, on the last week of the season, scratch their way out of the hole and here I am, fresh with optimism, at the dawn of a new season, again drawn back to being their fan.

For the record I would totally support relegation/promotion in our American sports system. No more guaranteed anything, just win baybee. My Kansas City Royals would have been relegated 15 years ago, the Colts of Indy during my college days would have been geldings, and basketball 76ers of Philly would be right about where they are now. Nowhereville. Even blithe Cubs fans, amiably content with mediocrity, really have no idea how ugly it could be.

But forgiveness reigns and the love for my near-losers will soon return and Wigan will be right back in my thoughts again. I'll likely peruse the various online shops for some new Wigan gear. Possibly begin developing a canned speech to recant my previous hardline stance of February. Look for all the positives and optimism that a new season brings and say a little prayer for better times to come.

So here's wishing and hoping for a better season and perhaps the grim reaper of English Football doesn't appear quite so closely next spring. I don't think I can handle another season of near-loserdom.  

Eh, now that I think about it, I said that last year also. 
And the year before that too.

Dear Universe, You Suck.

Why hast God forsaken us? 

Photo by Richard Carson, Reuters

I really want to believe there's a terrific payoff somewhere down the road for the players, coach, and fans of Butler University Men's Basketball team because I'm left wondering just how the universe, in it's infinite and expansive wisdom, saw fit to allow, on one of the biggest sporting stages in these 50 states, the worst display of shooting a basketball there has ever been.  And it didn't happen to some anyteam at some random anytime... noooo.  What is now the most infamous of least prolific shooting nights was bestowed upon a fan-favored, unlikely underdog team, on the biggest stage of Intercollegiate sports events in this country.

Dear Universe, you suck. 

I understand that Connecticut's defense was aggressive and difficult to deal with, so is most any team's who make it to that level, but seriously? 18.8% total shooting percentage from the field?! I honestly believe that, had I played for Butler and U Conn had agreed to let me shoot undefended from beyond the half-court line, I could equal the accuracy of the Bulldogs last night. That, of course, is a ridiculous analysis but it IS equalled by the profound ridiculousness that is 19% from the field in the NCAA final. This had to be more than just players ineptitude, there must have been other netherforces at work. I doubt I'm alone in this assumption.

Nobody wanted to see Butler lose. Nobody wanted to see Butler play poorly, but what we saw was the equivalent of being forced to watch torturous things happen to a loved one.  In slow motion. 

Having played sports, been a fan of sports, and watched sports for the better part of 3 decades, and one who pays attention, I can spot trends. I could see in the first half one of those 'winners trends' and the signs of a Connecticut win. Seemingly a majority of loose balls, rebounds, and other assorted intangibles bounced Connecticut's way. Loose ball scrambles, bouncing off a foot or knee of multiple players and into the hands of a U Conn player. I recall a point early in the second half when a U Conn player inexplicably lost control of the ball as he was ready to jump for an easy layup, only to have a Butler player grab the loose ball and subsequently allow his own knee to free the ball from his grasp and out-of-bounds. It's those freakish little events that so often portend the outcome of a sporting event. Most people don't even notice them.

A vast sporting majority wanted Butler to win last night. A vast force in the universe seemed to conspire and see to it that most of us were grossly disappointed with the alternate outcome and forced under sheer optimism of recovery to watch. For this I call into question the God, Gods, or Universe. 

Perhaps there is a golden reward for this bunch of quality kids who study and play hard in Indianapolis. I just hope I live to see it someday, because then I'd know the Universe does truly seek balance.

Presidents Day

This is the Presidential aesthetic circa 1840:

Sweet Georgia Brown, them's some bomb-ass sideburns Marty. 

Judging by the entire coiffure, I'm guessing this photo was taken at approximately 4:43am.

Say It Ain't So Ryan, Say It Aint' So...

In a recent story by Sky Sports News, the writer asks whether 36 year-old Manchester United legend Ryan Giggs would possibly see his waning football days out in the United States via the MLS League.  Despite mentioning his favorable opinion of living in the U.S., he doesn't shed much light on whether he would seek gainful employment on the pitch.

As a fan of Giggs and an admirer of his career and talents, I selfishly would be thrilled to see him play his final season(s) in the U.S. so as to see the man live as much as I possibly could even if slightly past his prime. But, conversely, as a fan who appreciates his career and accomplishments, would certainly respect his desire to finish in storybook fashion, in England with the team who've employed his entire professional career.


So often, and perhaps as the nature of the beast, athletes tend to have a hard time knowing when to quit or how to exit gracefully. It is fully their right to play their chosen sport as long as humanly possible despite the public way with which their wares are so often shown to reveal a tarnish to the lustre of achievements past.


It is for that very reason that I support that rare player who, on their own terms, having fully enjoyed the fruits of their labor, can leave their beloved profession at a time when their skills are still evident and can easily be remembered fondly.


I salute Ryan Joseph Giggs and his decision (should it be) to not finish his playing career in the U.S. and see out his limited days in a Manchester United uniform. It is simply the way it should be and nothing outside of a storybook ending for this man's illustrious career would do.

Good Winter, but Time to Change...

OK, I'll admit it - I've had a great winter.

Atypical and surprisingly enjoyable. Largely fueled by a return to snowskiing after many years layoff, and the best natural winter snow conditions I've seen in Lower Michigan for several years, I can say that 8 skiing days and the occassional sledding run makes for an enjoyable winter.

So much so that I've developed a 'wintersports me': a somewhat crotchety, over-40, ski-only, board-averse, old-school (like 80s old-school, not 2002 old-school), longboard, Glen Plake devotee, groomer piste, midwestern trucker.

Lest you get caught up in this least-favorite-season revelry, I am here to now remind myself that, like Peter Brady sang, It's time to change. To me that means the countdown and planning and anticipation for that last weekend in May is on like Donkey Kong.

Spring was for many years my favorite season, largely because the crescendo of events of my favorite sports (basketball - NCAA tournament, golf - The Masters, and IndyCar - The Indy 500) sent me off into summer breaks with enthusiasm (1987 was a particularly spine-tingling year for me - IU Hoosiers = Champs, Larry Mize chip-in FTW, Al Unser's unlikely 4th Indy 500).

Now the planning for the Indy trip is in full swing, and the unexpected momentum from winter has carried over into the impending spring... at least it better be impending...

Watch out Indy, the boooyyyyys arrrrre baaaaaack innn toooownnnn!!

Olympians and Empathy

I noticed something last night - something perhaps I don't like - something about myself for which I am both perturbed and somewhat stubbornly unwavering. 

Watching the Winter Olympics with some friends, I mentioned (with some residual anger), that I can't root for a certain athlete. Not until 'she gets it'. 'Getting it' means showing contrition for a stupid move that was seen by all the globe in the highest of competitions. A friendly return volley was instantly received that was something to the effect of, "that was 4 years ago, she was a just a kid and made a mistake."  Who among us hasn't made a stupid decision that came back to bite us hard right in the tucus?  Perhaps, I have been hasty in my opinion. Am I judgemental? Am I hateful and leaking compassion?

I've been taught and have tried hard to be, in general, a very empathic person. I attempt to understand the other person, without judgment, first. The limits of my empathy do seem to end when the perceived or realized suffering is from one's own intent and doing. I have been given pause to rethink this limit to my empathy however, citing the universal constant that is 'human error'. Case in point - The Fall of Lindsey Jacobellis. 

In 2006, I watched as many did with utter disbelief that this young woman, who apparently decided to tweak out a trick on the next to last jump of what would have been a Olympic gold-medal snow-cross run, bit it hard in the snow of Turin, Italy. As an athlete, I was angry. As an athlete that had no chance of ever thinking that I had any ability to be the quality of an Olympian, I was positively pissed.  As an American, I was utterly aghast at this egregious and arrogant display of disregard for the fellow competitor and of the competition.

Her immediate and sheer disappointment for crossing the line in second I felt was the most honest of reactions to knowing she had 'blown it' and in a BIG way. In the days, weeks, and months following, she attempted to mitigate the loss by stating she 'always uses a grab to stabilize', 'was just celebrating' or 'just messed up, oh well, I still got silver'. I seethe at such wriggling behavior. Karma exacted a swift and (quite memorably) equivalent toll for her move. In multiple interviews given, even to this day, she seemingly does not understand or is unwilling to admit, that what she did was wrong in many ways. It is on this basis that I refuse to reconsider my empathy or lack of support for her. I can forgive a mistake, what I cannot condone is the unwillingness to be contrite about it.

For this I stand steadfastly against the attitude that prevails all too often in sports today - that "personal expression" (bullshit term for excessive celebration in the face of one's competitors) is some sort of personal right and fully acceptable in today's society. Personal expression is one thing when a person or group is testing and ultimately exceeding the self-imposed hopes or expectations. Those are the true victories in life.

The methodical showboating / taunting while in direct competition with others serves ONLY to show blatant disregard and lack of respect for the opposition, the competition, and is an embarrassment to those who support the athlete / team. It neither expresses personal joy nor adds quality to the competition.

Sport, I believe, is one of the most visible remaining vestiges of what goodness can be found in this human race. A place to showcase what can be great and right and good about people. Jacobellis, and those like her who are unwilling to admit what they do is insipid and wrong, continues to represent a growing, embarrassing, and pathetic trend found in an athletic world for which I choose to not be empathic - one that devalues a true sense of sport and fairplay. I will celebrate those who from a sense of equality promote fairplay, and for which human commonalities and appreciation may be reached, not parted.

PS: I would be happy to change my opinion of these types, provided they show some empathy of their own by discontinuing and discouraging the showboating behavior described above and by apologizing to those they may have offended. Then is when my empathy for them may begin.

An Open Letter to the Ownership and Executive Adminstration of Hulman and Company

Dear Board of Directors - Hulman and Company:

As a native Hoosier and lifetime Indy 500 fan (primarily and Indycar Series supporter second despite them being close relatives), I track with great passion the sport's changes as how they may affect the Indy 500 first, and the remainder of the sport next. Mr. Tony George's resignation from the board is the final shovel of "not good" that has tipped the scales for me from optimist to pessimist regarding the future of IMS and the Indy 500.

This recent bit of news is troubling to me, because I am optimistic by nature, but I now have an insurmountable fear that no one is left who has the passion, vision, and desire to carry it forward in a manner which allows it to not merely survive, but thrive. Surely, your privately-owned, family business must realize it has generations of a vast public who personally identify with (and in some cases even gave their life for) this event, it's history, and the grounds. The staggering popularity of The 500 and it's history certainly are evidence of that. I understand I own precisely 0.00% of the company's stock however I am mentally and emotionally invested in the place which is worth more than a little.

From this meager platform, I ask the board to please give us, loyal 'lifers' some sort of idea what the heck your plan is for this place.

It is yours in ownership.  It is also mine in heart and soul.  Understand me, your loyal fan, and do NOT toy with it.  What I bring to you shows up as positive numbers on your Balance Sheet if that is all you understand.

If you can understand the above, then understand these concerns:
- Who will be the passionate visionary to energize and elevate this place?
- Who among you is dedicated to the 500 to your very core?
- Who will be the talisman with tireless diligence to an entity whose value as a national treasure is far greater than the sum of its parts.
- Who is next?

You will note that I do not address the 'How' or 'What' is next, but 'Who' is next.  This is by far the most critical component in my opinion.

Who is next?

My concerns are growing, my patience wearing thin.

Instead of a lifetime of dedication from me (your most loyal fans), you must know that you have now relegated yourself to a year-by-year basis.

I strongly advise not screwing it up.

The Spirit of the Game

It's agreed that little can be gained by debating the morality of Mr. Woods' extramarital dalliances, although it can be argued that to discuss the effects that these events have on the worlds of golf, sports, and popular culture, is of a different matter entirely.  That is the intention of this article.

All too often it seems we find (perhaps fairly or unfairly) our 'heroes' let us down, but for the many who golf, Eldrick has appeared to have fallen from an even greater height than most (for the record, I will no longer reference him as 'Tiger' as I believe its origin as a heroic nickname given by his father in honor of a military friend is one for which he no longer deserves.  His given name, Eldrick, or Mr. Woods will suit for me).  As easy as it might be to heap blame and shame, and follow those who will name names, I for one, will not join this game (OK, I admit to being a Theodore Geisel fan).  It is perhaps a more jagged dagger to simply witness the effects that Mr. Woods' decisions will have in relation to the sport for which so many play, enjoy, and follow.

The disappointment shared by people seems mixed both in its volume and direction.  One conclusion shared by Mr. Jack Nicklaus publicly was that this is a private family matter for Woods-Nordegren.  Fair enough, although surely Mr. Nicklaus is acutely aware that, as we speak, business decisions are being made that relate to the financial support of Mr. Woods and his family.  Granted, with proper management in place it would seem that Woods and his family should need not have concern for their financial legacy but the public damage brought about by the slow and painful removal of his prominence from products, events, and the sport of golf are an additional shame for which he should and must solely bear.

Many have already displayed the events following Kobe Bryant's extramarital story as a pattern for what will likely happen with Woods.  I sincerely hope this will not be the case.  There are various and sundry similarities certainly, but the fact remains that golf is a sport and profession that differs vastly from most any other (and for which Woods is most certainly aware) due to its core beliefs that are prominently written into its rules and for which the difference between other recent and infamous affairs by professional athletes becomes so illuminated. 


The Rules of Golf, from its very origins, display an inherent honesty, integrity, and fairness as the platform for manner of play.  It is often said that the Rules of Golf are also good rules for life and personally I find that to be accurate.  The very first paragraph by the Royal and Ancient of St. Andrews and the USGA, following the introduction to the Rules of Golf, sets one on the proper path and goes as follows: 

The Spirit of the Game
Golf is played, for the most part, without the supervision of a referee or umpire.  The game relies on the integrity of the individual to show consideration for other players and to abide by the Rules.  All players should conduct themselves in a disciplined manner, demonstrating courtesy and sportsmanship at all times, irrespective of how competitive they may be.
This is the spirit of the game of golf. 

So too may the spirit of the game of life.  To cheat or even attempt to skirt the rules of life should be as widely admonished and reviled as it is in golf.  Woods should expect little in the way of tolerance from the world of golf and its patrons and we in turn should show no leniency.  His penalty and sentence must be served for the good of all.  Woods knows the rules as well as anyone else and still elected to not apply the same integrity to his marriage and family as he has with the sport that has paid him ridiculous sums, in some cases to merely appear.

It is for this simple reason that any fan, company, or organization wishing to remove its support for Woods, can be assured that my full, unwaivering, and unabashed support, as a fan of golf and consumer of goods and services, will exist.  While that may seem a trifle in comparison to what legal or financial pitfalls await Mr. Woods, my integrity is of great value to me.  Moreso than Mr. Woods apparently.

PS: In acknowledgment of Woods' (and our) innate and imperfect humanness, and from one human being to another, my hope is that he will get good help in beginning to heal himself and his family.  Life does carry on and the extent of the damage is yet to be fully known, but should be worked through only with the caring and genuine aid of others trained to assist in matters such as these.

"I am not a role model"

In the wake of recent insinuations and allegations regarding Mr. Tiger Woods and his personal life, the "Where There's Smoke, There's Fire" crew have apparently been proven right.

I've recently recalled the Nike ad of the late 1980s in which 'Sir" Charles Barkley claimed "I am not a role model."  At the time I was a huge Philly 76ers fan (mainly because of my worship of Dr. J) and was both surprised and disappointed by the Sixers star forward's statement, as he seemed a perfect rags-to-riches, blue-collar candidate for hero worship.  It did cause a fair bit of discussion on the sports-related talk circuits as I recall.  Some argued 'yes' they are role models by virtue of their profession and privilege whether they like it or not, and others argued 'no' despite their self-promotion, professional athletes are still mere human beings.  In the end, as I recall, the general public was divided fairly evenly about this topic.

Now the squeekiest of clean athletes in recent times appears keen to apologize publicly for his "personal failings" which appear to be an obscured confession of what the media already appeared to surmise.

I am again surprised and disappointed at Tiger's apparent failings.  It makes me all the more certain now that Sir Charles was right - professional athletes are not role models.  As they are human, they are susceptible to many of the same issues dealt with by the general public and even issues about which the public doesn't have a clue.

It is often hoped by many that these people, who have extraordinary physical and mental talents, will somehow serve as a inspiration to the rest of us who would gladly exchange places with them, especially in regard to bank accounts.  We all seem to need some sort of guideline or example to follow to further our own lives.

To this I now must say, "bullshit".  Our lives belong to, and are the sole responsibility of us and no one else.  It is our own duty to be that example.

We all need to be our own heroes.  
We need to place high value and regard on the things that really matter in life - love, honesty, fairness, empathy.
We need to be the ones who try our best each and every day.

We need to discount the things which so often are promoted as valuable.  When Tiger's ability to hit a golf ball, or Britney's ability to sing and dance, or Robert Downey's ability to portray a fictional character is more highly valued than their ability to be the best father/mother/person they can, something is profoundly wrong.

I appeal to direct your hero worship to those who truly deserve it: those who work hard and with great personal sacrifice to provide for loved ones; those who've accomplished much with few resources; those who get up each day to help or protect others before themselves; those who place the good of the whole before the good of the individual; those who do what they can to make their own worlds better - little by precious little.
These are the true heroes of today and they are people you likely see everyday.

These are the people that deserve your ultimate respect and whom you should emulate.

These are the people who truly make a difference.

These are the people we should strive to be. 

Open Letter to Women: The effect of 'ouch' on the male psyche

Somebody just said it's been over a month since my last post.  

By golly, they're right.  I'll just have to come up with something interesting now won't I?  Hmmm let me seeee...  OK, Current Events will be the category...

I have a friend who is getting a very sensitive operation on his male appendages this week.  I don't find any humor in it whatsoever.  

OK, maybe a little, but I think the more important issue is to communicate with women how important this seemingly innocuous little procedure really is to the males of the species.

Women, if you've ever known a man who you think on occasion may lack the ability to be more sensitive and caring, you have a golden opportunity to lead by example when you find one that is having his Vas Deferens severed and clipped shut.  

Show him some gentle, unrestricted, and loving care that is so crucial to leaving one with a feeling that all will be well.  "But we already care for them in ways they can't seem to imagine."  Yes, we do know this despite rarely recognizing it.  

Believe me, we men know we have it good compared to women when it comes to bodily issues.  Please don't blame us for that.  We had as much to do with that fact as you do with causing the sun to rise every day.  I also believe that regarding our physical beings, we men are wired a bit differently so as to feel that we are powerful and nearly invincible (we hunt, we gather, you know the deal...) meaning we have relatively less regard for care and sympathy than women.  We seem to not desire or request assistance of any sort.

Women, does this sound like any men you know?   Like EVERY man you've ever known perhaps?  Did you think that we learned this in some secret meeting in fourth grade while you were learning about various hormones and cycles?  Not hardly.

BUT, when happenstance produces a time that we are feeling vulnerable (due to some sort of injury, surgery, and pain, real or imagined), we are forced to reckon with the fact that we are rendered vulnerable and frankly, it can frighten us, even if only for a few moments.  It is no more apparent and lucid then, while still at a relatively physically strong, virile, and competent stage, the most sensitive and emblematic region of a male's body becomes a target for scalpels and stitchery.  

It is at times like these that you have a special and unique opportunity to pass along some of your wisdom.  

Be overtly but sincerely kind and caring.  Don't joke about it.  Don't cause it to be worse than it already is because you may not realize how vulnerable we are feeling, just as we can't really understand how difficult childbirth is.  We do get it - pregnancy is a major bodily trauma that lasts for months if not years.  We, as men, do understand, yet we can have no first-hand, direct brain-wired concept either.  A statistically miniscule number of men actually go through the pregnancy sympathy suit training but that seems quite far from what must be the actual truth.

So, for the man who has the vasectomy on his immediate horizon, please understand that I empathize with you.  I offer my sympathy and will endeavor to assist if called upon.  I'm also hoping that there is a minimum of one person, one special female in order of priority ahead of me who will serve as primary caregiver and nurturer-back-to-normal.  Nothing personal, you understand.

I'm hoping (and quite certain) she will be giving you the loving care and sensitive hospitality you will crave.  I share your pain(s) and your vulnerability... from a safe distance.  Sorry, just not wired that way.

>Hiccup<

My computer crashed 4 days ago and I got it back last night.

Pros = I lost nearly no data, I have a newfound respect for being a diligent backer-up, I can resume working, I can again enjoy some leisurely computing moments such as these, and I will not be trying to input some inane status update via my phone.

Cons = I have a newfound fear of this happening again with MUCH worse results, I've lost two days of work that I can't get back, I have to spend some time checking and verifying my backup system to be sure that when the worst happens, my contingencies will actually work.

All in all it could be much worse than what it was, but still a hassle and 4 days of worry about the results of the scanning, testing, and analysis of the hard drive and what the next step would be.

As a result of this little snafu (and oddly I admit), I also seem to feel the need to eat more salad, greens, veggies, etc. and layoff the excess calories no matter how delicious. Perhaps my subconscious is detecting a further reckoning with Karma on a grander scale than just experienced. Warning signs are all too often there, and all too often overlooked. I'd hate for this (relatively) minor incident to be enviable compared to some other near-future event...

Having said that, I've had cause (and time not being on the computer) to reflect on some things and hold the following truths to be self-evident:
> I believe the universe attempts to seek a balance.
> I believe in Karmic retribution.
> I believe that you better get busy livin' or get busy dyin'.
> I believe that what you give is what you get.
> I believe in doing unto to others as you'd have done to you.
> I believe laughter is the best medicine.
> I believe in love.

Sorry if this post appears a bit reflective or maudlin but when events conspire against the normal run of play, it makes you sit up and take notice, even briefly. As I said, the warning signs are all too often around us and all too often ignored. A little proaction doesn't hurt ever does it?

So, if you are reading this right now, you have been warned. Warned that there is a warning sign somewhere you're ignoring. Pick one of them, any one of them, evaluate the possible outcomes and take action to alleviate a bad thing before it happens. It may seem not the right time or possibly inconvenient at that moment, but just an ounce of prevention, people... an ounce of prevention...

I Got Nothin'

Sorry, but just posting for the sake of posting really. Haven't fallen off the Earth, haven't been incarcerated, just sayin' "Hi, I'm here, but I got nuthin". Guess that's neither good nor bad, so there you go.

I will say I wish I was going to LebowskiFest in Chicago this coming week...

See Ya 'Round!

DZ

End of another summer

For me, summer is not magical anymore. Ironically, I noticed this while watching our kids and friends' kids, with grouped effort and at great energy expense, joyfully make huge waves in their swimming pool. It took me back in time for a few moments...

I can say that during my childhood and even up into my early 20s, my body, mind, and soul appeared to be on that wonderful rhythm which followed the school calendar and late May through late August was 'Magical-Super-Fun-Summer-Time'. In my mind's eye, every day was perfect, filled with sun and warmth and leisure and fun. Make no mistake, I'm glad I at least have those memories and apparently have suppressed any rainy, complaint-filled days of boredom and discomfort there may have been.

Now, a full 20 years off of the school calendar, my body and soul have quite obviously taken leave of that very enjoyable and reliable cycle, my mind disconnected with everything altogether. Our kids have gone back to school as well this week and there was a lithe bit of fun during the first day of school. The few standout snapshots of this day for me were mainly three-fold and goes something like this:

The Prologue - Walking to the schoolyard, anticipation in the air, helping the kids find their teachers, kids and adult friends of ours who are teachers lamenting the start of another year (at which those of us schlubs who work year-round snickered).

Act 1. - A small group of parents (myself included) cheering and clapping for the lines of kids following their teachers into the school on the first day. I saw and meant this as encouragement to the kids and the teachers to help alleviate some of their anxiety for what lies ahead. Good on us.

The Epilogue - Draggy parents with empty coffee mugs slowly dispersing from the playground and back into the more rigid confines of the workaday world.

I enjoyed my childhood or at least I remember enjoying it. I enjoyed school and I enjoyed summer break. I'm happy our kids are experiencing it, but as for me, the first day of school just serves to remind me how much I miss it. I'm also a Leo so me and summer do go hand-in-hand.

At times like these, I feel disconnected from myself and i don't like it. Maybe I should have been a teacher after all...

Find your center.

Summer is winding down (although some may argue it never got started around here) and with it comes that time each year when we contract into our family and set about planning more structured time management. It's not easy because summer is (and should be, by my way of thinking) typified by free and easy times with significantly less regimentation. My lawn is a great example of that.

Now is the time for all good parents to begin the task of setting up the kids for one of the most exciting and anxiety-producing days of the year - (in doomlike voice) The First Day of School.

Thankfully many things have already begun without my knowledge or planning which is terrific for someone who rarely thinks anything major in our household cannot happen without my terrific influence and knowledge. Sad, but true. I am coming around though thanks to the great other in the house who sets about getting things done and not merely talking about them.

To achieve that centered feeling without creating a hysterical panic about the new schedule does require a bit of discipline and no procrastination. Little bits each day rather than a mass of chaos on the final days. This method is not in my nature apparently, but as I said, I am coming around... slowly. Today is Monday, and I am vowing to begin working toward a more regimented and consistent schedule both for myself and the kids.

Which means I must stop wasting my time blogging for now. Thanks for checking in and I'll see you down the road, more centered, more focused.

What? Why are you laughing at me like that?... (harumpf)

Quickie '3-hitter' list...

Quickie '3-hitter' list of things I like about my summer so far:
1. Not hot. 72, light breeze, and sun is perfect for me.
2. Vacation was great and the kids also seem to be having a good summer break - trying new activities and learning new things. (Thanks Lynners!)
3. Coaching the winning 2nd and 3rd grade girls' team in GYSO (soccer) league this summer. The kids went nuts when they won with a dramatic extra time goal in the final and repelled two shots to tie. I was thrilled. My wife said she's never seen me jump so high. I have to disagree, but the point being that I didn't even realize I had jumped. Nothing like a last-minute game-winning goal to spark a little pandemonium in the crowd.

That's all for now. Less lag between posts in the future... I Promise!!

DZ