Word to the Wise

There is a person that I know who seems to be the living incarnation of a black hole. This person pops up every so often, pulls me in, and rips me apart. I don't know how to keep it from happening. I'm fairly certain I'm in the early stages of it happening again.

So if anyone has any advice on how to avoid black holes, it'd be appreciated.

Just Cease Speaking Forever

You remember Caitlin Upton, the champion of maps everywhere.

Guess what? She's back on the pageant circuit. She doesn't want to be played the fool again, so this time she's prepping for those brain-whacking interview questions. Caitlin, what do you think about the swine flu epidemic?

"You know what? All these people who don't take their antibiotics when they have the flu or the cold- it creates new cat-a-strophies."

Rest assured, she looked very poised and intelligent when saying this.

And she's richer than us.

The Three Stages of Cinnabon

Stage 1: "I have to have one! It smells irresistable!"

Stage 2: "Oh man. This is so good."

Stage 3: "I should not have eaten that."

Pro? Am?

I'm pretty sure everyone who watches sports, at some point, has wanted to be a professional athlete. And 99% of those people had delusions of becoming a pro athlete. I'll share when the dream died for me.

We had a weekly tennis club in middle school. We would play on the parking lot behind school with these crappy nets. There were four or five courts, I think, and the courts were arranged in a hierarchy. The worst players were on the far left, the best players on the far right. By the time eighth grade was over, I was the best player on the best court. To me, it stood to reason that I was going to move on to high school, be the best player on the high school team, go to college, become the best player there, then move into the pros. I never said it had any ground in reality.

So my freshman year, I had my first match of my career against Chagrin Falls. I was playing second doubles. One of the opposing players showed up wearing jeans that were a little tight and a little short, and there was a pack of Camel Lights sticking out of one of the pockets. He and his partner proceeded to clean our clocks. My pro aspirations ended that day.

I watch a lot of pro tennis and follow it pretty closely, and on more than one occasion, I wish I was there on tour. Lately, though, I've been thinking: Is that really the best scenario?

To get to the professional ranks, you have to have a singular focus. How many pro athletes are well-rounded people? It doesn't seem to be a high number. Baseball players, for some reason, seem to be particularly stupid. Pro athletes essentially live on another planet. They have money beyond the dreams of most and do not interact with the common man, usually. They exist separate from the rest of humanity. It's extremely difficult for them to stay grounded. How many athletes go broke soon after retiring because they couldn't manage their money? How many get busted for drugs because they need the rush?

It might not be worth it. A sports career doesn't really contribute much to the human race, all things considered. There might be an Arthur Ashe or Muhammed Ali that comes along every once in a while, but they're rare. I feel like I'm more connected to humanity, better well-rounded, more intelligent than the average professional sportsman. I feel like I have the opportunity to do things to really make the world better, and that I don't have contempt for the common man that rich athletes do.

I'm not saying I wouldn't join the ATP if I was offered the opportunity. I'm also not saying I'm better off the way I am. But perhaps the life of the pro athlete is not as awesome as we'd like to think, and maybe our "common" lives are better than we realize.

This Might Not Make Sense

The average IQ is 100. This provides an objective benchmark for comparing people, but most of us use ourselves as the standard. We consider people smarter than us to be smart and those not as smart to be, well, not smart. This is OK when you're average intelligence, but what if you're not? Are dumb people considering slightly less dumb people smart? Are smart people considering slightly less smart people dumb? Does that truly matter?

The older I get, the more I think the "ignorance is bliss" axiom is true. I think this is because I look around and I see a lot of people wrapped up in their consumerism and/or their own worlds, and they all seem pretty happy. Meanwhile, the people who like to take a deeper look and change things don't seem to be quite as thrilled with the world¹. Change never came from those who were satisfied.

It's well documented that many great artists and thinkers had problems with depression and other disorders. This is not likely a coincidence; it seems harder, for some reason, to produce great things when you're happy.

It's like some sort of devil's bargain. Most people who are smart and/or gifted probably wouldn't trade it for the sort of carefree demeanor the less worldly seem to enjoy, but it seems to come with some sort of torture mentally or emotionally. There is a price to be paid. Faulkner probably doesn't write The Sound and the Fury if he loved everything, right? It seems to be harder to be happy, the smarter and/or more gifted you are. It's like you see things, and you see how it's all wrong, and it's all you can focus on. And nobody else is able or willing to see it that way. How can you possibly be happy?

Maybe The Matrix was on to something. If you saw the truth, how could you deal with it? Those people never seemed happy, but they didn't want to trade their knowledge for happiness. Except Cypher, of course.

What it comes down to is I think the mentally and artistically exceptional have a sort of burden, something trying to drag them down. Some hide it, some don't acknowledge it, but it's there. Some overcome it, some embrace it, some merely fight it to a standstill. But it exists. There's a reason Alanis Morisette stopped making good music after she wasn't angry anymore. How many people still listen to "Thank U"?

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1 I realize this sounds really bitter and kind of elitist. This is not intentional.

Just Down the Road From King's Island...

I'm excited! This week is the ATP tournament in Cincinnati. For the second straight year, I'll be attending. I went for the first time in 2003¹, then again last year.

The first time, it was the excitement of seeing pro tennis in person for the first time. Everything was a new experience, and it was pretty overwhelming in a great way. Last year was fun and newish because five years had passed, so many of the players at the tournament I hadn't seen before. I was seeing almost all of them for the first time.

That won't be the case this year. In fact, this won't even be the first tournament I attend this year; I spent a day at the Sony Ericsson Open in Key Biscayne. I actually was within five feet of Roger Federer. This was when things were looking like they were falling apart for him and everyone thought he was kind of done, but I was still in awe to be near him. I've been in close proximity to all of the world's top players except Juan Martin Del Potro. Nobody had me as awestruck as Federer². Being near Nadal was kind of like being near a rock star. Djokovic was kind of like a guy you know from the bar. Andy Murray seemed like he was amused by it all.

So I think I'm going to be entering this with a bit more poise. I won't have the sense of discovery. I like that feeling, but it will be nice to know what I'm doing and maximize my time there. If you've never been to a pro tennis event, there's a lot of things to do there. It can be overwhelming. You never see it on TV, but there are multiple courts, a huge food court³, and shopping. Lots of shopping.

I'm planning on bringing my camera this time. I'm not much of a photographer, but hopefully I'll come out with some good shots. It's gonna be a blast.

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1 You can see some unexciting pictures from that trip on my Facebook page.

2 A couple months ago, I planned on writing a short entry. Roger said he still believed he could beat Nadal on clay, and I was going to poo-poo him and basically say that window had closed. Of course, he goes out and beats Nadal at Madrid, then wins the French Open and Wimbledon. I'm thankful for my laziness.

3 And the food is pretty good and not unreasonably priced. At Key Biscayne, I had a delicious mahi mahi sandwich for less than $15. It's a better deal than it might sound.

Candy Sweet

I realize my window of opportunity for dating a girl with pink hair is quickly closing. I find this depressing. I feel like this is something I should get to do.

Snort of a Problem

One of the nice things about pro tennis is that it has so far avoided the steroid scandal that other sports have become embroiled in. I'm not sure why this is¹. However, a drug of an entirely different sort has reared its ugly head: Cocaine.

Perhaps tennis is just 30 years behind baseball. What makes this all noteworthy are the circumstances behind the cases and the rules regarding cocaine. Firstly and most shockingly, cocaine is considered a performance enhancing substance. No, really. If there is a way to describe coke, "performance enhancing" is not one of them².

The penalty for a first-time cocaine offense? Two year ban. No, really. That seems perfectly reasonable and just for a recreational drug. Not counseling, a fine, or even a one month ban. Two years.

Two top players have been busted in the last two years: Martina Hingis in 2007 and Richard Gasquet this year. In both cases, the player denied using steroids and fought the ban. Hingis' attempts were rebuffed; Gasquet was cleared.

There are so many levels of stupidity behind these things, it's hard to sort them out. Hingis' defense centered around inconsistencies in the testing and handling of samples. This is generally a bad idea; organizations do not like the accusation they did something wrong. It's not much of a surprise, then, that her appeal failed. What was Gasquet's accepted defense? That he kissed some girl at a nightclub, and she probably did some coke, and that resulted in his failing the test. No, really.

Read the finding by the tribunal in his appeal. Try not to marvel at the how dumb Gasquet's story is and how idiotic the panel had to be in order to buy it.

Gasquet's positive test was 151 ng/ml. This is the equivalent of the size of a grain of salt. Hingis? 42 ng/ml. That's right, a trace of cocaine one-third the size a grain of salt triggered a two-year ban that effectively ended her career. I can't completely fault the tennis governing bodies for this; they follow the World Anti-Doping Agency and this is their rule. However, it's a stupid rule and doesn't do any good.

Oh, and just for fun: The amount you need to fail a test in the American military is 150 ng/ml³. So it's actually easier to fail a cocaine test if you're an athlete than if you're in the armed forces. Now which are you more concerned about being on coke?

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1 And frankly, I don't really care. If steroids made Rafael Nadal the fist-pumping, testosterone-exuding champion he is, great! I want to see tennis played as well as it possibly can be.

2 I realize it could theoretically help. But seriously, do you really think people are snorting coke and benefiting from it?

3 I can't find the list of WADA cutoff amounts. If anyone can, send it my way, please.

You Really Like Me

In addition to posting my entries on Blogger, Facebook also imports all my pieces to my Facebook account. Sometimes people will use the "like" function on those posts. I don't know what exactly that means, and it really bothers me.

Kids and Their Rock'N'Roll

I write this at the risk that I sound old and curmudgeon-y at the tender age of 25.

I've come to the determination that either the current crop of kids suck, or the music that defines them does. Possibly both. Music is the medium that really defines a generation. Movies try, but they don't. How many times have you really watched a movie and thought, "Yeah, I really feel like this is my life"? More importantly, how many times do you look back at a movie and think that? Now how many times do you look back at the music you listened to when you were in middle/high school and feel like that music reflected your world view or mindset?

I realize I'm not exactly breaking new ground here. But if you look at the 90s, you can see how the young generation looked at life. They were angry. They were confused. They didn't know what to do, but they knew who they were blaming. Nirvana still resonates to this day, even though it was a corporate production¹. Pearl Jam is still doing its thing, and they're still beloved. People still identify with them. You know the mentality of the alt-rock crowd. You know the mentality of the ska crowd². What's the zeitgeist of pop and rock music today? Kind of ugly.

If I'm missing something, please correct me. But I just see it today and it's just... nothing. Maybe it's just a logical extension of the increasing jadedness of Americans. Maybe it's the logical extension of the consumerism and lack of meaning we find with aspects of society. Maybe they're distracted. I just think it's pretty sad, the prospect of Fall Out Boy being the voice of a generation.

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1 I think that's a real tribute to the talent of the people involved.

2 If you listen to ska, which doesn't have wide appeal.

Marilyn Monroe

It's a bit mystifying to me that Marilyn Monroe is held up as this sort of paragon of feminism by my generation. Have these people actually spent the time to learn about who she was an what she did? She slept with anyone and everyone. She was an alcoholic and a druggie.

So, yeah, aspire to that.

Two Face

Some words of wisdom from my roommate, Steven C. Porter:

"You have two modes: Really exciting... and everything else."

The Man Across the Net

The human existence is driven by rivalries. We thrive on competition, even if that rivalry is with ourselves. Think about it: The Cold War was really just a rivalry with the US and Soviet Union. Politics thrives on rivalries, especially in this country. You have a rivalry with at least one of your friends in something. The instinct to one-up is hardwired inside us.

This is doubly true in sports. They don't just thrive on rivalries, we need them. If we don't have them, we create them. They are the most important part of the season. The effects of a rivalry are astounding. Winning that game means more than any other win, except a championship. It inspires players to raise their games higher than they had before or knew they could. A rivalry brings more attention and interest to a game than it otherwise would. It's art (sports) imitating life.

I had a rivalry of sorts in my high school career. I say "of sorts" because it was one-sided, and as the old saying goes, it's not a rivalry if one side wins all the time. It was with one of my teammates, Andy Keller.

Andy was/is a friend of mine. We had a lot in common, we were teammates, we had some gym classes together. We saw each other a lot back in the day. He's a good guy.

While I had started playing tennis in middle school, he didn't pick up the sport until his sophomore year of high school (my freshman year). When he joined the team and he wasn't very good, of course, because he didn't yet know how to play. So we played a couple times and I beat him. He started the year on the JV team.

He proved a quick study, moving up to second doubles by the time the season ended. When the next season rolled around, he was a lot better. All of a sudden, I couldn't beat him. His friend Jason also joined the team, and while he wasn't a very good tennis player, he was such a good athlete it was extremely difficult to get a ball by him, and he won matches that way. I wasn't good enough at that time to beat somebody like him, so I went from thinking I was going to be one of the best three best players on the team to not being able to beat a guy I could before and this other guy that had just picked up a racquet.

It was frustrating. I thought I was getting better, but Andy clearly was, too. I never beat him in those last two years he was on the team, and I haven't beaten him since¹. Andy, in fact, was the #1 singles player on the team his senior year². Is he better than me? Yes, but not so much so that he should beat me 100% of the time. He's a little bit faster than me, a little bit stronger, a little bit tougher mentally. Having a lot of little advantages really adds up, more than you might think. I had better volleys and a better second serve, but he made it tough for me to get up to the net.

It came down to my mentality. I didn't think I could beat him, so I never did. One time we were playing and we had to quit tied 5-5. We picked it up the next day, and all I could think was, "Just don't lose the next eight points in a row." What did I do? Exactly that. Why did I do that? Stupid. What made it worse was it would almost always be by close scores; I would just fold at the critical moments.

For his part, I doubt Andy ever saw it this way. Like I said, we were friends, and he was always nice and encouraging. I pulled out an old yearbook not long ago and read what we wrote. Not only did it make me laugh out loud, but I also noticed how he went out of his way to try and pump me up. So maybe I didn't have the requisite anger to really want to beat him for any reason other than my own ego.

One irony about all of this is that I haven't played since I realized all this. I really think I can beat him now. It's partially because I think I'm stronger mentally, but mostly because he doesn't really play anymore. We just don't live near each other these days. It's sad, because we still get along well.

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1 I could beat Jason, who was almost as good.

2 I suspect Joe Ziska intentionally allowed Andy to beat him before positions were set so that Joe could play easier opponents. All three of our singles players that year were pretty close in skill, which was good for the team.

Summertime, Summertime

This article by Steve Tignor¹ had me feeling nostalgic. It's a little weird to feel nostalgic about summer during summer, but think about it. It's not quite the same, is it?

I suppose that's one of the consequences of aging: Summer just doesn't quite have that magic. On the face of it, it makes sense; school is out, you have no responsibilities other than making sure you come home alive when the sun sets, and there was just a sense that you could do anything. The days were wide open. Sometimes you had a thing planned that you knew you were going to do, but more often than not you would get together with your friends and ask, "What are we going to do today?" If you were anything like my group of friends, you'd spend half the day trying to figure that out, but when you did, it was on.

I spent more than one summer this way: Get up, call Josh Crawford, go outside, play basketball in the driveway for 10 hours², sit on the porch when it was finally too dark to play. Throw in an Indians game once or twice a week³ and it was summer well spent. I remember that semi-humid haze of a summer dusk, when it was not quite cool but not really hot and the sky was sort of a ruddy color. Sitting there on the porch, it was just really nice. In high school, it would be going to the tennis courts at end, turning on the lights, and just playing in that warm summer air and imagining it was the US Open with the lights on. We would play well past midnight sometimes, just because we could.

Like all youth, I was foolish enough to think it would always be like that. Now, summer doesn't hold that promise of possibilities Why? There's a variety of reasons. For one, I think I have friends now that prefer to be inside than outside⁴. I also have a lot of friends that are married or in committed relationships now, so they're hanging out with their significant others and not me. Probably more importantly, we have jobs and commitments and other things. We can't just go outside and run around for no reason. We almost have to have a reason to go outside and have fun; it has lost its intrinsic value.

As I got older, I spent less time outside. Why? I'm not sure. It seemed like movies, videogames, etc. just held our interest more. The thing is that I don't think I've ever regretted spending a day outside; there have been many an occasion I regretted not doing so.

Summer hasn't changed, of course, we have. I would still take summer 100 times out of 100 instead of winter or fall. Perhaps I need to learn to appreciate summer in a different way. I've come to appreciate waking up to a brilliant azure sky instead of the gray dinge with which winter greets us. Maybe I need to take the bull by the horns and just get out there more⁵. It's a lot easier to just go to work, go home, eat, and do other things. And by the time I realize it, the day is gone and it's already night. Carpe summer⁶?

(Side note: Hey, hey! Blog post #100! Here's to the second century mark.)

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1 He's become one of my favorite writers. He also uses the technique I think is necessary to be a successful tennis writer: He writes about the things surrounding the game, the spirit of it. He combines this with unparalleled insight and good humor.

2 You would think playing that much would have made me good at it. It did not.

3 My parents were partial season ticket holders.

4 I'm starting to think this is a consequence of getting older. Kids want to be outside all the time. Adults do not. Why? Maybe we feel the temperature more, maybe we get used to the comfort of being inside.

5 I underestimated how much easier it is to be outside all day when there someone else making your meals for you.

6 Something that I've found is that it's so much more enjoyable to do nothing outside than it is inside. Even if it's just reading or updating your blog, it's a lot better to do so outside. That's what I'm doing right now.

Please, Just Stop

Has there been a sports star less interesting and compelling in recent memory than Michael Phelps? The man has the personality of a doorknob. Yet even one year after the Beijing Olympics, he's still all over the media. Why? Even the bong "controversy" was bland. Not even the media hype machine could generate much interest in the story.

Just let the man swim in pools and date strippers. That's all he's good for. Tell us about people that might actually capture our attention.

Jacko

Amid all the strange postmortem love for Michael Jackson was innumerable people citing him as an influence. It's not hard to see; how can you be a worldwide phenomenon, sell a kabillion records, and not inspire others? NeYo said Jackson is the very reason he wanted to be a musician, and that all R&B artists owe their careers to him.

Well, now I know whom to blame.

I Have the Best Water Bottle in the World

I don't get excited much about material possessions. Sure, I'll salivate over a book or maybe a new racquet, but that's about it. However, this beauty is quite the exception.

Awesome, isn't it?

It holds 750mL of liquid. Only 75% of what my Nalgene holds, but that's OK. What sets this apart is the double-walled, vacuum-sealed nature of the bottle. In other words, cold things stay cold and hot things stay hot. For hours. I've had ice cubes only half melted several hours in the July sun. It's amazing. I love it. It doesn't sweat, either, which makes it easy to hold.

It also has a filter cap that keeps things like ice cubes from hitting me in the mouth while I'm drinking. And it has two twist caps: A bigger one for pouring, a smaller one for drinking.

It's my new favorite thing. I can't recommend it enough.

I've Been Outsmarted by my Grandmother

Every year since I stopped having birthday parties¹, I got a card in the mail from my maternal grandmother. I suspect I'm not alone in this regard. In the card was a check, money I could spend anyway I want! Woohoo! It was never a large amount; she grew up during the Great Depression, had enough to get by but never a lot, retired some time ago, and has been a widower for almost two decades now².

Accordingly, the amount of those checks steadily decreased through the years. They started to be accompanied with notes of apology for not being for very much. She just couldn't afford to give more³. Some time ago, I simply stopped cashing the checks. I felt like the she needed the money more than I would like to have it.

I didn't tell anybody about this until this year, mentioning it to my father. He told me I should be cashing them⁴; I had no desire to. It was a system that I thought was working out well: She would write them, I would ignore them, she kept the money. After all, it's the thought that counts, right?

Well, I recently opened birthday card 2009. Inside was a $20 bill. Apparently she had noticed I wasn't cashing the checks⁵. I can't exactly send it back to her, can I?

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1 I honestly cannot remember when I ended this practice. After I turned 14? If you remember, help me out.

2 A sobering realization, typing that.

3 She has seven grandchildren and four great-grandchildren. She probably doesn't send anything to three of them anymore, but that's still a lot to spread around.

4 Anyone else thinking of the "Seinfeld" episode? I feel like saying, "She's on a very fixed income!"

5 Or she just didn't feel like writing one. I find this less likely.

I Think They Made a Mistake

Roger Federer is the greatest player of the Open Era. Rafael Nadal is currently the #1 player in the world and is the reigning Wimbledon and Australian Open champion, as well as the best clay courter ever.

So why do they suck so much in Virtua Tennis 3? I hope you guys fixed this for VT4.

Do Us All a Favor

I have absolutely no problem helping anyone. In fact, I am happy to do so. However, there are limits. I realize I might have been the only guy you knew at the wedding reception. I understand that there was some creepy dude hovering near you. But dragging me out on the dance floor so that you can use me as a shield against said creepy dude is not in the range of my services. Let's not make things more awkward than they need to be.

It's Like, You Know...

So, I miss you a little bit. I'm not saying I want to be with you- we're apart for a reason- but I haven't completely divested myself of feelings for you. I do enjoy talking to you, even though I find myself saying stupid things for reasons I can't explain. I've never fully been able to get a grip on myself, you know.

I wasn't sure for a while if we were going to continue to be a part of each other's lives, but we still are, and I'm glad for that. So, yeah. That's all. Just needed to say it.

McDown Under

Saw an ad on Australian TV for McDonalds. With a food purchase, you can buy a mini-board game for a dollar. Why don't we get promotions like that? I still wouldnn't eat there, but I would get one of those games. Just another reason Australia rules.

Oh, Rafa

You have a machismo I haven't seen since Razor Ramon. You have women actually screaming uncontrollably in your wake. I touched you last year and might have gotten a temporary testosterone increase.

None of that excuses this:

I don't know if it's you or Nike- I suspect Nike- but your wardrobe choices this year have been positively brutal. You don't have to go back to the pirata look if you don't want to. At least look less like some neon alien, OK?

And Another Thing

When two people in a romantic relationship grow very close very quickly, this is seen as a bad thing.

When two people in a Platonic friendship (usually of the same sex) grow very close very quickly, this is seen as a good thing.

Someone explain that.

Riddle Me This

In many public restrooms, they have those big double toilet paper dispensers. Why is the roll that's farther away the one that's always open? You have to sort of lean to get it... why can't I just slide the cover over and get to the close one?

No Tennis, Anyone?

Now that I've explained in exhaustive detail my "history," such as it is, of me being a sports writer, I will now explore the natural follow-up question¹: Why not my favorite sport?

The obvious answer is one of accessibility. While basketball is far from America's favorite sport, it has a massive following and has a team what seems like every five miles across the country. During the season, there are games every night. Anyone with a decent cable or satellite package is likely to find five or more games on TV a night. There is no shortage of basketball, which means there is a need to provide coverage of it².

My position is kind of unique; everyone wants to cover UNC. Few people want to cover the MAC, but there is a decent amount of people that follow it. Being one of those people that actually want to cover it, I found a niche. No such niche exists in tennis.

While college basketball is probably not even in the top five most popular sports in America, it is still far, far ahead of tennis. Only professional tennis matters; nobody cares about college or the minor leagues³. And, in case you didn't know, professional tennis tours. It moves. I can find MAC games within a few hours' drive 2-4 times a week; Cincinnati has a one-week tournament, Indianapolis is the same, and that's it. The next closest tournament is the US Open in New York, and a couple other tournaments of significance are sprinkled around the country. However, the majority of the tour happens beyond my reach and means.

I suppose I could follow the tour on TV and write about that⁴, but what is the point of that? While I know more about tennis than most and probably could lend some insight into what is going on, it's not going to be enough to be worthwhile. This dovetails into a couple more important points. The first is that tennis is a simply awful sport for television, perhaps the worst. Tennis loses everything in translation on television, and I mean everything. You don't get any sense of the speed, the athleticism, the spin on the ball. I'm the biggest fan of tennis that you know, but even I have a hard time watching it on television. In person? Riveting. I can't take my eyes away.

Basketball, on the other hand, translates excellently to television. Not as well as football⁵, but very well. I love watching in person, but I can tune in and lose very little, perhaps even gain a little; it's easier to take the court as a whole on the screen than in person. I'm not getting to every MAC game, but I am watching it on TV and listening to it on the radio, and it gives me enough that I can use to write about. Not so for tennis.

The other point is that tennis, frankly, sucks to write about.

John McEnroe wrote in his autobiography that tennis is "poetry written on water." It is beautiful, but once it's over, you can't recapture it. The sport is by nature somewhat ethereal; the written word can't really capture it. This is why so little actual tennis writing actually has to do with the matches themselves. Instead, writers look more for what is happening around the game. Occasionally, they try to play psychologist and figure out what is going on in a player's head, a fruitless exercise.

Also, there is no way to statistically quantify tennis. There's that etherealness again. Sometimes, the player that wins the most points loses the match. It's goofy. We don't really try, either. Look at the stat set for a match sometime. It ain't telling you much.

I know some sports reporters grow to hate the sports they cover for a living. However, I think I could deal with seeing the world and meeting all sorts of people for a while. Plus, I'd be intimately involved with my favorite sport.

Heck, I can't be worse at it than Peter Bodo. Maybe I should give it a shot.

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1It's natural to me, at least. Then again, I've been known to put myself through the Socratic method with me.

2Ever notice how my paragraphs tend to be short? Telltale sign of a newspaper writer.

3The Challenger and Futures circuits, FYI.

4I actually did try this for a while. I did not enjoy it.

5We're actually at the point where it's better to watch football on television than in person. This is part of the reason football is the top sport in the country. It's also part of why tennis will never be more than a niche sport in the United States.

I, Sportswriter

I've been a writer almost as long as I can remember. I wasn't producing anything profound by any stretch; some of my earliest work involved creating stories for the Hot Wheels cars that I spent many an hour racing¹ in my room. My love of sports does stretch back as far as I can remember².

I had also established that I wanted to be a journalist at a young age. One project in seventh grade involved picking a career and doing research for it, including shadowing a person of that particular occupation for a day. I followed a reporter at the Sun Newspapers and just thoroughly enjoyed it.

So when I told people I wanted to be a reporter, many of them connected this desire to my love of sports and asked if I wanted to be a sports writer. I scoffed and sneered that I wanted to be a real journalist³. I told those people I wanted to report on things that matter.

How, then, did I get here? I'm officially a semi-professional sports journalist and am currently in talks to run MAC Report Online, as well as an incredible opportunity I'm not going to fully discuss at this time.

What I really wanted to be was a political reporter. What better, to follow the movers and shakers around and tell the world what they were doing⁴? I would be contributing to the democratic process, ensuring an informed electorate. I actually believed this.

So I set out with that goal in mind. I was able to land the statehouse reporter position at The Post, and I did a lot of work that I was proud of. I produced copy that was compared favorably to similar work at major metro dailies. I was doing what I had dreamed of, and I was good at it⁵.

That pretty much ended when I left The Post. I couldn't go back, and when I finally could, I found that I didn't want to. I wrote my column for Speakeasy for a couple years, and it was fun, but it was more an exercise in self-indulgence than anything else.

I finally left Speakeasy when I got tired of its terrible management⁶, and my public outlet for writing, save my blog, went with it. I had my poetry- always have- but that has always been a largely private endeavor. I never really stopped writing, but I felt like I needed an outlet. However, I had become disillusioned with the journalism industry and felt my life going in another direction, so I wasn't sure what to do.

Allow me to rewind a bit. I signed up for the newly-revamped Bobcat Attack forum in early 2005, just as the Ohio basketball team was starting on the run that ended with a MAC tournament championship and a thrilling date with Florida in the NCAA tournament. While I had always been an insanely close follower of sports, my knowledge of them was quite superficial.

Through the forum, I became connected with other fans. I started signing up for other fora and connecting with more people. As I did, I acquired more knowledge. Through these connections, I happened upon The Mid-Majority and Fire Joe Morgan.

While it may seem crazy, I credit these sites with opening my eyes⁷. Through FJM, I learned of sabermetrics⁸, which has been invaluable in fantasy baseball⁹. More importantly, Mid-Majority, and its spin-off site, Basketball State, turned me on to tempo-free stats.

I won't bore you with the specifics, but it's an entirely new, different, and superior method of using statistics to evaluate player performance on the basketball court¹⁰. I saw the value in these stats early on and jumped on them.

One of the other fora I'm a member of is the Buffalo fan site, UBFan. One Buffalo fan, Tim, runs a blog, Hoops Junkie. In January 2007, he decided he was going to go on vacation and needed a couple people to man the ship while he was gone. I figured, hey, why not? So I asked if I could give it a go, and he agreed. And it was fun, so I asked him if I could make more contributions to the site every so often. Apparently, he liked what I wrote¹¹, and he said that was cool.

So I was doing that for a bit, and Dave Ruthenburg, who runs MAC Report Online¹², said Tim sometimes contributed to the site and saw I was writing for HJ as well and wanted to use a couple of my articles on his site. Would that be OK? Yeah, sure. Eventually, he said I was free to submit anything for the site that I felt would be appropriate.

So I was doing writing for Hoops Junkie and MAC Report Online, based solely off of my passion for MAC basketball and writing. I was employing my skills with tempo-free stats¹³, which had grown a considerable amount. I shot off an email this winter to Dave, who had recently moved to Oklahoma, a far cry from MAC land. I asked him if he needed any help covering the tournament. He said yes. I suddenly found myself with a media credential for the MAC tournament.

I ended up covering most of the tournament. I did two of the four games in the first and quarterfinal rounds, plus both semifinals and the finals. It was a blast, and I took in every minute. I even set up a Twitter account for MRO and gained a lot of followers. It was a big hit. The 12-hour days, while tiring, didn't faze me at all.

During the tournament, Dave flew in from OK and we spent most of the latter part of the week sitting next to each other. At some point, he asked me if I would be interested in running the site next year, as he felt like like I was doing good work and he needed someone closer to the ground.

So I went, essentially, from random idiot on a message board to what looks to be the editor of a respected site, as well as the undisclosed opportunity, which I'm actually more excited about, and will explain later. As I joked to Whelliston in Cleveland, I'm a lesser, regional version of him¹⁴.

That took a lot longer to write than I anticipated. Sorry. Still, it's kind of extraordinary journey. I kind of feel bad for people that want to be actual sports writers. I just consider this a hobby that has taken me on a great ride. Don't know where it's going to take me next, but I'm excited to see.

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1 I had tournaments with full brackets and seedings and everything. I even had a rankings system. This was serious business. Acquiring a new Hot Wheels (not a crappy Mattel) was a big deal; I had to see where it fit in in the ranking system, how good of a car it was. I was aware that races were probably influenced as much by the unequal strength of the arms I used to race the cars and that I favored some cars, especially Ferraris, over others, but I didn't care.

2 I remember my first baseball game at the old Municipal Stadium. The Indians were playing the Red Sox, and Mike Greenwell hit a foul ball off the roof of that gigantic stadium. I don't remember how old I was. Maybe four. I do not remember my first basketball game; apparently I saw Kareem Abdul-Jabbar play. My first football game was a Monday Night Football affair in which Bernie Kosar beat Steve Young.

3 I felt that sports reporters weren't taken seriously in the journalism community. I have not been fully disabused of that notion.

4 I was certainly inspired by All the President's Men, but I had already established my intentions to become a journalist before reading it or seeing the movie.

5 If you really want to read my old work, Google "Jeffrey Fitzwater" or search for that in The Post's archives (if they work). You can also ask me and I'll do the searching for you. I'm just that nice.

6 And getting the "Most Improved" award from a first-quarter editor that clearly hadn't even read me before just felt like a slap in the face. I'm not bragging, but I was the site's biggest draw when I was there. At least pretend like you know what you're doing when you're my editor.

7 I should also say that they are/were run by terribly nice people. When FJM decided to hang it up, I sent them all emails to tell them my gratitude for the site, and they graciously wrote back. I have also had the pleasure to hang with Kyle Whelliston, the proprietor of Mid-Majority, on a number of occasions. Great guy.

8 I love, LOVE, the fact that Tufts University actually has a class on this.

9 Since employing these stats when drafting my team, I'm much more successful than I ever was before. It really works! I'm making $30,000 a month working from home! Call now!

10 As Houston Rockets GM Daryl Morey said in Michael Lewis' fantastic piece in the New York Times: "Someone created the box score, and he should be shot."

11 I just went back and looked at my first entry on the site, and it's terrible. Boy howdy.

12 The #1 site for Mid-American Conference news! Really.

13 Established sports writers are notoriously slow to adapt to new ways of thinking, especially when it comes to statistics. So, in a way, I'm still kind of on the cutting edge and have even been recognized as such, which is pretty cool.

14 He started Mid-Majority out of love for mid-major basketball. He traveled to games, used the site to chronicle his travels, and ended up as a writer for ESPN and Basketball Times. Now he travels all around the country, is kind of a rock star, and has a lot going for him.

The Weather Was Fantastic, Too

If you know me at least a little, you ought to know that I intend on joining the Peace Corps once my time at Ohio University is over.

There are a couple reasons for this. First and foremost, I believe the plan God has for me on Earth involves serving my fellow man. I believe it is something I am to make my life of, and I believe God has shown me this way, to get away from everything and devote myself to helping others.

I truly enjoy helping others. I have never gotten tired of it when I do it. I always learn something important and meaningful, and it fulfills me. Lastly, Peace Corps offers a great chance for adventure and travel, two things am I very much in favor of.

Even though I work, I try to take advantage of volunteering opportunities as they come along. For example, I spent spring break two weeks ago in Miami, Florida, volunteering at the Miami Rescue Mission,

The Mission is dedicated to helping the homeless. They have a program for people to help them get clean¹, get education they may need, help them get employment and a place to live, and help them build a relationship with Christ. It also opens its doors at night for dinner for the people on the streets and offers free showers a couple times a week as well.

In talking with some of the men² in the program, it was extraordinary to hear their stories. Where they had been, what they've done, and where they are now. It was exciting to listen to these men talking about how God had entered their lives and was working to change them in profound ways.

To be sure, the work wasn't easy, but the reward was greater than the work put in. In the short week I was there, I built connections with some of the men there. Most people have their own conceptions about the homeless. My own thoughts, sadly, were mostly formed by TV. I imagined dour, dispirited people that were borderline hostile with others. This could not have been further from the truth. There was an amazing spirit of positivity, hope, and optimism. They weren't letting themselves get down because of what they had been through. They were excited about where they were going. One slogan I saw was, "We may be homeless, but we are not helpless."

It amazes me, what people can pull themselves up from, given a little help. No man is an island, right? People have to take ownership of their situation³, but if they do and there is a person willing to give a hand, they can go places. It truly never is too late.

I may share some actual stories, but not now. I just wanted to reiterate the power I feel of God's love and the love we have for each other, how powerful that it is. It was awesome, and it's the kind of thing I truly cannot wait to do on a more permanent basis.

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1 Many homeless people have a drug addiction. I realize this is far from a groundbreaking statement, but it's striking how big of a problem is truly is.

2 They have separate programs for men and women. Obviously, I worked with the men.

3 Provided that they are able. Some people are not and need that much more help and love.

A Broken Heart Isn't Always a Tragedy

I grew up loving "Peanuts." I just really enjoyed the characters. I sort of related to Charlie Brown's toiling fruitlessly on the baseball diamond, I liked how Linus would wax philosophical between sucking his thumb, it cracked me up how Marcie called Peppermint Patty "sir," and I admired Schroder's Beethoven-wannabe piano chops.

More than anything else, I loved Snoopy. I thought he was the coolest dog ever. He hunted the Red Baron on his Sopwith Camel, he stalked the desert as a vulture, paraded around as a penguin, and excelled at baseball. Even with his amazing talents, he was still very much a dog: He was Charlie's loyal friend¹, he loved to get the blanket, and he would sometimes curl up with Charlie at night when he went to bed. For all of his losing characteristic, I still thought Charlie Brown had the best life of them all because he still had Snoopy.

As I've written before, I love dogs. I think they're the perfect non-human companion. You know movies like "My Dog Skip"? I never really dug them, but I envied the relationship between the boy and the dog, his closest friend. What else could a boy really want? I was jealous of the people that had that.

Our family had a dog, and I loved her very much. However, she wasn't "my" dog. I always felt that distinction. I always wanted my dog, one that came to me first and considered me his true friend. Because I enjoyed "Peanuts" so, I wanted to get a male beagle and name him Snoopy.

I tend to fight loneliness in my little corner of Athens², and I have more than once wanted to have a canine friend to live with me. What really held me back was money; I didn't feel that I had enough of it to properly support a furry pal. I certainly had the desire and willingness.

My hand was somewhat forced when a coworker said she found a dog chained to her front porch one day. It was a beagle, and she was trying to find a home for it. It essentially came down to me or taking the dog to the pound³. I figured I might as well give it a try. The dog- a girl, as it turned out- was either a stray or abandoned. We figured she was a couple years old and had been taken care of for at least some period of time⁴.

So I picked her up and brought her back to my place. She didn't have any tags or any sign of ownership save for a collar on her neck. There was no way to tell if she had been fixed or had her shots. We didn't know her name, and she was going to be mine, so I named her Lucy⁵.

And she was an absolute sweetheart. She loved to give face kisses and hop in my lap and just chill. She's also an absolute fireball: It was nearly impossible to get her to calm down and relax. I know young dogs have a lot of energy, but she did not take well to being inside. And being inside alone? She couldn't handle it. She would start freaking out within five seconds. And no matter how little time I spent outside without her, as soon as she came back in, she would leap on me and look at me with a "I didn't think you'd come back!" mood in her eyes⁶.

When I was getting ready for bed, though, she sensed it and would wait for me on my bed. This was, in every sense of the word, a dream come true for me. I have very little experience sleeping with another person in bed with me⁷, so to have a dog curled up beside me was very special. I always wanted to have a dog that wanted to sleep on the bed with me. I just thought it would be the coolest thing ever, and it pretty much was.

The main problem was when Steve and I left for work for the day. She absolutely tore the apartment apart. My DVD remote, various boxes, some of my bedding... it was all destroyed. She somehow managed to open up my book bag and shred some of the contents inside. I had a couple razors in there, so that was a scary moment.

She lives to be outside. I don't think she ever willingly went back in; we always had to guide her through the door. She was an outside dog for sure.

And it was that, really, that was the tipping point. I really liked Lucy, but she was just too much. Because she was older, she was harder to try to train, and I didn't think she would ever be an indoor dog. We weren't going to be around during the day enough to let her outside so that she would not turn the apartment into a fallout zone.

It really broke my heart. Lucy, as I said, is an absolute sweetheart, which made it that much harder to let go, but I had to. It was ultimately the best thing for both of us. Thankfully, a rescue organization was able to find a home for her. I've been told she's in Canada(!) now, which is really the perfect place for her. I miss her, but I know she's happy.

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1 Even while tormenting him the way only a dog can.

2 Especially lately, when it seems like none of my friends are single.

3 Taking a dog to the pound in Athens is tantamount to a death sentence.

4 One sign: Her nails were trimmed.

5 Yes, Lucy Van Pelt.

6 It led me to believe that she was abandoned. She never seemed to figure out that, yes, I was going to come back.

7 No, I'm not counting the times I shared a bed with my sister when we stayed in hotels.

Now That's What I'm Talking About

Before this utter nonsense of snow and temperatures in the 40s, we had the first legitimately beautiful day of the year Sunday in Athens. The mercury reached the low 70s, there was just the slightest bit of wind, the clouds were sparse but pretty enough, and the air just felt so fresh.

Naturally, I played tennis. The weekend marked the first time since the shoulder injury that I hit the court, and it just felt really good to be back out there, like I had returned home. I pray I don't have to leave it again.

Also, I walked around and played in the cherry blossoms along the Hocking. They are in full bloom now, vivid white flowers bursting from the twisted limbs of that unique tree. Some of the petals were wobbling gently to the ground; they fell on and around me. It was easy to just close my eyes, breathe, and feel.

For those precious few moments, I was able to find and hold onto a true sense of happiness.

And That'll End That

Crap.

Well, that unofficially ends the Spurs dynasty. It was a great run; four titles in eight years is better than one would realistically hope for at the beginning, and there were a couple genuinely great teams in there as well. Still, it's going to be pretty depressing watching Timmeh fruitlessly try to carry this damaged, washed-up team through the playoffs.

Buford, things need to change. Starting this offseason. The team as it is built now is not good enough to win. You have enough left of Duncan to make another run, but he needs more than what he has now.

I suppose it's time to go into full-blown spite Cleveland mode now that I don't need LeBron for fantasy purposes. I also must root against the Lakers. The Rapist must not win.

Have Cake, Will Eat

Anyone who knows me at least a little knows I spend the vast majority of my time single. And, once upon a time¹, it's something I whined a lot about. I sort of got suckered in by seeing romance on TV and movies, sadly. I felt like I was missing out on the human experience by not having a girl to do things hand-in-hand with.

Oh, but I had a plan. I was going to go to college, meet my wife, get married, and start life from there. It was beautiful, simple, and guaranteed to work. As you can likely ascertain, that did not happen. I'm sure the 18-year-old version of myself would have considered this a failure at life. The current version does not share that opinion.

If anything, I've grown accustomed to, and perhaps even come to expect, the single life. At heart, I'm an independent person. I want to do whatever I want, whenever I want. I don't want to have to account for my whereabouts with someone else or have to worry about another person's schedule or opinion when figuring out what I want to do².

When you're in a relationship, the primary price you pay is your freedom³. I've had it for so long, I don't know what I would do without it. That would be a huge adjustment for me. I'm an American, right? Am I not supposed to cherish freedom? Freedom and guns? A subset of that is the expectations. You're expected to "check in" every so often, whether you want to or not. I bristle at that.

I've always wondered why so many people end up pairing off. I find it hard (if not impossible) to believe everyone is happy in a marriage/lifetime relationship. Why do it? Tax benefit? Societal pressure? Fear of living alone? Child rearing? I don't know. Maybe I'll ask the next miserable-looking couple I see⁴.

I'm at that age where more and more friends are getting married. This scares the crap out of me. Are you people all insane? What is wrong with you? My best friend has been married for more than a year and a half now. I don't know how his head has stayed attached to his neck. Someone very prominent in my life recently intimated to me his/her future husband/wife is his/her current boy/girlfriend. My first thought? "No! This can't be! I'm not ready for this!" How do you people do it?

I've yet to have an actual adult relationship, so maybe I have it all wrong. I've had flings- more than I thought I would- and I won't deny they were fun. Perhaps I enjoy the thrill of something new. Maybe when it comes down to it, I'm terrified of a committed relationship and I subconsciously pick girls I know it can't work with or I sabotage it. I don't know, but it's an interesting theory.

I've gotten used to my life as it is. If anything, a girl coming along for the first time annoys me more than anything else. This is for a couple reasons: 1. I expect things to fail. 2. It messes up my routine, such as it is. Suddenly, I have to start thinking about that other person. I have to try talking to them⁵, which means I have to start putting other things around it. It's annoying, but I feel like I have to at least try⁶. I mean, hey, there's a girl, and I'm interested... something good might happen, right? Right? So then I find annoyed at the girl for being the reason I'm changing things up. Of course, she's completely innocent in the matter and never did anything wrong to deserve such feelings. As a result, I get even more annoyed at myself for being annoyed. It's a nice little circle.

In other words, I don't want to try, except I do. And I want things to change, but stay exactly to same. That's not asking too much.

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1 High school. I have no idea why anyone put up with me back then; I was insufferable.

2 Like last summer when I went to Cincy for three days to see the tennis tournament. I didn't tell anyone. I just went. That's freedom you can't buy.

3 But considering how few people choose to be single for life, it must be worth it. Still, I find that a bit crazy.

4 I could launch a full sociological study at the Athens County Fair alone.

5 But not too much! And not too enthusiastically! It's beyond stupid.

6 Otherwise, I have cousins thinking I'm gay.

Resume Management

There comes a point in one's career in which prospective employers no longer care about part of your history. When I'm trying to get a job when I'm 30, nobody really needs to know that I worked at Sea World when I was 16. It's relevant, but only in a very limited sense and has little direct bearing on what is happening now.

I wonder now if I have reached the point in which high school relationships don't count. Yes, I officially dated two girls in high school, but that was a long time ago and under very different circumstances than I would date a girl now. Does it count? Should it be removed from the "resume"?

What of relationships that were such in name only? Does it count that I dated Kat for two weeks? How can that be part of the tally? Probably not. I say now I have never been in a "true" relationship¹- one in which genuine exchanges of emotion and spirit took place. I never have been in the position to need to truly take another into account when making an important decision. I have not had to think of another person when envisioning the future, long term or short.

Perhaps I should just note my "girlfriend number" has an asterisk. Makes sense to me.

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1 I note with some ruefulness I'm getting to the age in which this would freak women out. Sounds like a catch-22.