Blood, Sweat, and Times New Roman

Watching Democracy in Action

2011-09-21T17:32:00.000-04:00

This is a "The Whirling Dervish" piece originally published November 8, 2006. Of particular note is Blackwell's comments. Eerie. It's amazing the Republican message has not changed one iota.

There’s nothing quite like the excitement of a big election. I like to cuddle up with the Constitution on the first Tuesday of November and watch the results unfold and speculate who will file lawsuit where the next morning. Here’s a running diary of Election Night:

7:00: Polls should be closing soon, but apparently Ohio Democrats have successfully sued to keep polls open in Cuyahoga County until 9 p.m. Leave it to Cleveland to mess things up. Word is that results won’t be released until the polls in Cuyahoga County close later. Well, I guess I won’t be seeing “House” tonight.

7:02: Just for fun, I’ll predict the following: Strickland over Blackwell, DeWine over Brown, Stewart over Phillips, Wilson over Blasdel, Montgomery over Dann, Issues 2, 3, 4 and 5 failing and Northern Illinois over Toledo.

7:22: Ohio News Network is practically giddy because they have vote tracking on their Web site. I’m wondering if they’re more or less reliable than the secretary of state’s site, considering Blackwell runs it.

7:31: The Associated Press are already declaring Strickland and Brown to win. Wow guys, way to wait a full 60 seconds until deciding who won. It’s great to see the lessons from the 2000 and 2004 presidential elections have been learned.

On a completely different note, did anyone else feel like voting in Athens felt like taking the SAT? Was the punch card really that hard? I sure didn’t feel like voting was easier, but I sure felt like laughing when they handed me a “secrecy sleeve,” which was just a manila folder. It all just seems like an unnecessary use of money. That money can be used for much better things, like verifying Bob Taft is still alive.

Speaking of money, I really am hoping Issue 2 passes, but it won’t. $5.15 to $6.85 is just too much. I can see something around $6, but they got too ambitious. I know a few have, but why students would vote against this is beyond me. It’s putting more money in your pocket. Who is against that? The argument that it would hurt businesses is bogus. They’ve made that claim every time a minimum wage increase comes up, yet the economy survives. And if anyone thinks one can live on $5.15 an hour, well… there’s some lovely property in Nelsonville I can sell you. At $6.85, one would at least have a chance.

7:40: If the Democrats take control of the Senate, George Voinovich would most likely lose his chair on the Senate Ethics Committee. That’s a shame. If anyone deserves a spot like that, it’s a former Bobcat. In fact, let’s bring him into the engineering school after he retires.

7:48: Apparently Lake County didn’t get the memo from Blackwell because they released their results. Strickland now officially leads Blackwell, Browns leads DeWine, Issue 2 is passing, Issues 3 and 4, are not, and Issue 5 is.

8:02: The man speaking at the Cuyahoga County Board of Elections is doing a great job of passing on responsibility by blaming the Democrats who sued to keep polls open, saying it’s their fault for the problems the country has been having today. Yeah, it was the guys in Columbus not opening the polls on time and not being able to work the machines. They’re devious like that.

8:12: How in the world is Athens in the same Congressional district as half of Mahoning County? What sense does that make? Perhaps an amendment against gerrymandering is worth considering. It would be nice if the interests of an area could all be represented together. The sixth district looks like someone stuck a banana on the east part of the state.

8:54: Holy crap! ONN is reporting Blackwell has already conceded the election to Strickland. Wow. He didn’t even wait until all the polls closed. That’s incredible. I guess he knew he just didn’t have a chance. This is what the Republicans get for nominating Blackwell instead of Montgomery or Jim Petro. Somehow the weaker candidates get through in primaries. People need to consider changing this format, unless they want another candidate like John Kerry running for president in two years.

8:58: ONN is interviewing GOP spokesman Aaron McClure, who has a “I’m going to kill somebody” look on his face. He calls the AP’s early projections of winners “irresponsible,” undoubtedly because they’re projecting his guys to lose. He’s right, though. These projections don’t do anything for anybody.

9:36: Results are finally starting to spill in. With 9 percent of precincts reporting, Strickland is cruising, up 59 percent to 38; Issue 2 is still on the “yes” side, 54 percent to 45 percent; Issue 3 is failing, 60 percent to 39 percent; Issue 4 is getting destroyed with 63 percent voting it down; Issue 5 hanging on with 55 percent voting in favor. Brown has only a 51 percent to 48 percent lead. Charlie Wilson is killing Chuck Blasdel (score one for write-in candidates), Zach Space has a sizeable lead on Joy Padgett and Stewart is easily beating Phillips.

9:43: In the third quarter, Toledo leads Northern Illinois 17-10 in DeKalb, Ill. Wow. What happened to Garrett Wolfe, Heisman candidate?

9:45: Is anyone else as surprised as I was that Padgett was so quiet during this election? After her attempted sabotage of Terry Anderson’s character in 2004, I was expecting anything and everything in name calling and assassinations. Things have been rather quiet, though, which is nice. I guess both parties saved the dirt kicking for the Mary Jo Kilroy/Deborah Price race.

9:53: I know now why I didn’t see anyone Uptown in a Jimmy Stewart T-shirt harassing people to vote for him. They knew Phillips presented no threat. With 15 percent of precincts reporting, he has 61 percent of the vote in hand. However, they must’ve been worried about Jill Thompson. I saw about a dozen people stumping for her. Unfortunately, nobody considers Athens County auditor that important of a race; I don’t see any real-time results.

9:56: I’m starting to think Issue 2 could pass. 54 percent has voted in the affirmative so far. But election results are tricky; early returns can be misleading. I remember when Quebec was voting to secede from Canada, early returns showed an overwhelming “yes.” But as the night dragged down, the “no” votes piled up, eventually winning. As it turned out, the precincts that were strongly secessionist got their votes in first. So we still have a long way to go.

10:00: Blackwell is speaking now, saying his campaign “ran out of time.” Apparently his loss means the Republicans need to stick to their principles. That’s one way of looking at it. Another is that the voters of the state reject your principles, Ken. He’s a smooth talker, if nothing else. He all but promised the GOP would rise again.

10:03: Issue 2 is up to 56 percent for. I can feel my wallet growing. I wonder if more people will be willing to work in the dining halls now. Issue 3, though, is looking doomed to fail. I’m glad to see this. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very much in favor of legalized gambling. But the money never goes to where the people claim it’s going to. When the money actually goes into the government’s coffer and not into the businesses’, then we’ll pass it. But don’t tell us the schools will get more money and expect us to believe you. We’re not stupid.

10:12: ONN gleefully telling us how awesome their vote tracker is and how many hits their site is getting. Why buy advertising time when you can do it for free on your own network? They’re also outright calling Brown “Senator Brown,” which seems like an invitation for embarrassment. Meanwhile, Padgett concedes to Space.

10:23: Strickland addresses his faithful, putting an effective end to the night’s action. I won’t bore you with the details; he likes paper chains, apparently. It will be interesting to see how quick change comes to the state after he takes off. He’s an energetic guy, so he’ll try to start getting things done as soon as he is sworn in. His first act is a largely symbolic one, moving the governor’s office back to the Statehouse. Taft had moved from the Statehouse when he was elected.

Interestingly, more people voted for Issue 5 than voted for governor. Apparently, people are more interested in secondhand smoke than the economy.

Oh, and the final score from DeKalb: Toledo 17, Northern Illinois 13. Not a banner day for my prognostications.

The Body

2011-09-20T12:25:00.000-04:00

This is a short piece I composed in December for Good Works. The prompt: "What does it mean to be the Body of Christ IN the world, FOR the world?" Your thoughts are welcome.

Beingthe body of Christ in the world and for the world demands much of us. At the most basic level, being the body means being the physicalmanifestation of Jesus on Earth. As a body, we must also harbor thespirit of Christ. Just as we are incomplete as only physical beings,the body of Christ is incomplete without the spirit. Through thebody, we do works. With the spirit, we have faith.

“Nowyou are Christ's body, and individually members of it.”^¹ There is only one body of Christ, and we comprise its parts. Eachpart of a body is simultaneously autonomous and dependent. Forinstance, only the lungs breathe, but they need blood provided fromthe heart and nervous signals from the brain. As members of the bodyof Christ, we all have our specific role that only we can do, yet ourjob cannot happen or does not succeed without the rest of the bodyfunctioning. Bodies have room to grow, and we seek to grow the bodyof Christ by bringing in new members.

“Thereis one body and one Spirit.”^² As keepers of the spirit, we get our purpose, revelation, and energyfrom it. As the body, we represent Jesus in His absence. We partakein communion, per His instructions, in recognition of this. We goforth and do works for Him. We continue His work. We seek to bringthe spirit to those that do not have it. We endeavor to follow Hisinstructions in clothing the naked and feeding the hungry. We dothis to spread the glory of God and to expand His kingdom, for Hedeserves no less than for His kingdom to encompass the world.

Bybeing the body of Christ, we sublimate our individual selves, ourpersonal needs and desires, in favor of the good of the body. Wesacrifice so that the collective can thrive. This is not easy; Satantempts us with individual decadence because he knows people who feellike they have everything they need on their own will not submit tothe restrictions of a social conscience. We purposely deny ourselvesso that the other parts of the body may benefit. Through this, weall come out stronger. The kingdom of God is stronger as well.

“Theeye is the lamp of the body; so then if your eye is clear, your wholebody will be full of light.”^³ The body of Christ is the light of the world. As the body, we bringthat light to those in the darkness, to those that cannot see. Incontemporary times, it is the body of Christ that stands as aresisting force to the hyper-individualistic tendencies of society. We recognize the pitfalls of this movement and move to counter it. In essence, we stand to save people from themselves.

____________________________________

1 1 Cor. 12:27 (NASB).

2 Eph. 4:4.

3 Mat. 6:22

A Holiday Note

2010-12-26T14:48:00.001-05:00

Have a happy Christmas eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve eve!

Yes, Soldiers Are People

2010-12-16T14:00:00.006-05:00

This is a "The Whirling Dervish" piece originally published by Speakeasy September 27, 2006.

It was Saturday night when the call came. A friend was enjoying the weekend when that phone call came. Her cousin in Iraq was riding in a Humvee when it ran over a mine and exploded.

No one was sure what had happened to him, exactly; he might not live through it. Almost certainly, he would lose his legs. All anyone could do was wait for news, a special kind of hell for those of us on the home front.
Sunday was met with good news: He was alive and, while his legs sustained several fractures, amputation was not necessary. Even with the broken eye sockets, it was as close to the best case scenario one could ask for. Relief washed over like a gentle wave.

That is, until the next bit of news came in: that he would not be coming home. Not only was he staying in Iraq, he is only staying in the hospital for 10 days before being sent back out. A guy who signed up for the reserves because he wanted money for college, a guy who was blown up just days ago, a guy who should, must, needs to come home, is being dumped back on the field with injuries that will take to months to heal.

And that is saying nothing about the mental damage that he has sustained. He should have access to the best therapy, yet he will get nothing. We can only speculate as to the damage being done there. Of course, he has no desire to stay over there; who would? This is his second injury sustained in Iraq; he had been shot in the leg before.

With Secretary of State Donald Rumsfeld extending the tour of duty for 4,000 soldiers recently, it is obvious the Army is under incredible strain. Hard decisions have to be made for the military good.

But at some point, we’re not treating these people like humans anymore. They’re just cogs in the machine, used until they can’t be and thrown out. America does not have the best track record in dealing with veterans, but one has to wonder if someone decided the best solution is to limit the number of people that come back.
That is not a suggestion that the Pentagon is deliberately trying to kill off soldiers. However, it is a suggestion that the price is becoming too high when people can get blown up and they can’t be sent home or even given sufficient time to heal. With each passing week, the Bush Administration has more questions it needs to address about Iraq. Such treatment of the men and women that signed up to defend the country is decidedly un-American and being sent to die in a battle that seems more like a Roman war of expansion than a defensive operation.

It’s easy to point the blame at Rumsfeld and Bush on this, and undoubtedly many people will. However, that might be a part of the problem. Most Americans have buried their heads in the sand, complaining of news stories in the papers and on TV. They don’t want to see it; they don’t want to acknowledge it. They just want to blame the guy sitting in the Oval Office and his cronies and be done with it. They ignore the fact that their doublethink allows the people making the decisions to keep severely injured people in a combat environment. Say what you want about Cindy Sheehan, but she forced people to pay attention; forced the president to acknowledge her. That’s powerful. That’s responsible.

So why aren’t most of us doing it? Are we really that afraid to take responsibility for our actions? Sure, you walk around with that trendy “NOT my President” bumper sticker, but the actions of the military represent us, reflect us, whether or not you support it. During Vietnam, people reacted with outrage, but with Iraq, people simply aren’t reacting anymore. Until they do, more soldiers that should be coming home and being sent back out. And while they might not be killed with a bullet, they’re dying on the inside at the very least.

AMPlify Your Apathy

2010-12-15T17:10:00.005-05:00

This is a "The Whirling Dervish" piece originally published by Speakeasy May 17, 2006.

For the first time in recent memory, chalkboards and bulletin boards across campus are free from a barrage of advertisements for Student Senate elections. This is a welcome change from the constant harassment and annoyance of years past, when students could rarely pass a day without being accosted by a group of people in T-shirts representing some party.

There is only one registered party this year, Amp. It’s appropriate, because Amp consists of the same people that win the elections every year. This time around, no one is bothering to run against them. Maybe it is because this group always wins and other people don’t feel like losing. Then again, maybe it’s because nobody else sees Student Senate worth it.

If Amp is running unopposed, why are they still trying to give us newspapers telling us to vote for them? After all, the only people voting are the people running and their friends. There aren’t going to be enough people writing Leon Williams in as president to threaten Morgan Allen. If there is no competition, why the T-shirts? Is it because they want to feel cool wearing them?

Student Senate has long claimed to represent the student voice. But why should OU students look to their senator to be their “voice” when Roderick McDavis is an email away and when he makes himself available to the public weekly? Student senators would like to think they’re doing something important, and some of them are. Appropriating funds to student organizations is an important task. Aside from that, it’s all an exercise in hubris.

After all, it was only in 2003 when Katie Simpson was removed from her position as vice president in the face of student protest, simply because she was in the rival party. So do these people represent “our” voice or their own?

By the way, the president gets free tuition for the year. There’s no way to justify that, especially when student trustees get no such benefit.

So let them have their little election and lord over Student Senate the way the kids who were really excited about Model UN in high school did. In a week, everyone will just go back to ignoring them again.

Redemption for Han Solo

From the “long overdue” department, Lucasfilm and Twentieth Century Fox announced the first three “Star Wars” movies are coming to DVD in their original theatrical form. That means no special edition, no Hayden Christensen at the end or “Return of the Jedi,” the original Ewok celebration song and that Han, not Greedo, shoots first. Non-geeks probably don’t realize the significance of this, but for those of us that grew up in a galaxy far, far away, this is the best news that we ever could have gotten. Fans have long complained about George Lucas’ constant tinkering of the movies and the changes made in the special editions of the original trilogy. It will be not at all surprising to see sales of this DVDs surpass sales of the special edition DVDs, even if Lucas is pulling a Disney and selling the movies for a limited time.

Is it too much to hope for a public apology and retraction of “Revenge of the Sith” to come in the near future as well?

It’s like they don’t have a Father’s Day or something

Last year for Mother’s Day, the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (say that five times fast) gave away tote bags to women 18 and older. Baseball teams have long used promotions like this as a way to lure people into the ballpark to spend $4 on a hot dog, so this is far from unusual. However, someone feels this is discrimination and is suing the Angels for age and sex discrimination. Well, it’s about time men started to fight back against the injustices levied against them by society. We’re not going to take this lying down. If wives and mothers are going to be dragged to the ballpark on the one holiday devoted to them, they’d better not get treated nicely or anything. That’s just wrong. Thankfully, the Angels have come to their senses and offered bags to the first 25,000 adults of both sexes. Then again, the kids still aren’t getting anything. Looks like another lawsuit is in order.

Postscript: My feelings about Student Senate's ineptness are still intact. The best part was when a computer security flaw resulted in Social Security numbers going public. In 2003, the same year they were busy playing politics, a Senator exposed the very security flaw. Instead of doing anything about it, he was kicked out of Senate and suspended from the university.

Still a Long Road to Equality

2010-12-14T13:30:00.003-05:00

This is a "The Whirling Dervish" piece that was originally published by Speakeasy on February 9, 2006. This is one of the more significant pieces I wrote. Apparently, my take was a bit controversial, as I attracted the ire of the OU Democrats. Page counts for this piece was double what it normally was to that point and continued to climb after that. More below.

It’s been just over a week since the death of Coretta Scott King, and it’s still leaving its mark on the nation. Unfortunately, the echo of her funeral will ultimately be an ugly one. Civil rights leaders decided her funeral was the best time to blast Bush for policy decisions instead of sticking to the matter at hand, which ostensibly was honoring the life of Mrs. King.

Once, there were sacred places and occasions that transcended politics. Funerals, churches, sporting events were places people were expected to check their grudges at the door. Now all bets are off. Bringing in candidates to give stump speeches at Sunday congregations? Sure. Protest the Iraq war at a funeral? Hey, go for it.

It takes a lot to make President Bush look like the dignified one, but the Rev. Joseph Lowery and others managed to pull it off. If you want to make your statements, do it outside. The media weren’t going anywhere. Such petty tactics cheapens the occasion. Would Coretta or Martin Luther have stooped to such a level? No, so why decide not to follow their example?

Of course, we’re not walking on a yellow brick road to racial equality and harmony. Some people have decided to celebrate Black History Month by setting fire to nine Alabama churches, four of which serving black congregations. The KKK would be so proud.

King’s death and funeral has led me to wonder if there are any prominent black leaders that are able and ready to assume the lead of the still-going civil rights struggle. What’s telling is that while the racial gap has lessened 40 years later, the struggle is still yawning. The logical choice would be Illinois Sen. Barack Obama, a young, charismatic man who could very well make a run at the White House sometime within the next 20 years.

What is coming out of the White House right now, however, will do little to bridge that gap. The budget proposal Bush submitted to Congress this week is bound to go over very poorly. What strikes me is the bill passed by a thin margin (216-214). Thirteen Republicans, including local Bob Ney, voted against the budget, which includes significant cuts in Medicaid and Medicare funding, along with the usual cuts to taxes for the wealthy, student loans and welfare. However, there is a strong chance the House will not pass this budget. Let’s pray it does not.

So, I just noticed I predicted Obama running for president. Cool. Anyway, OU Dems Mark Gaffney posted a comment attempting to blast me. However, he lacked the ability to actually do so, instead coming up with fallacious points like this one: "The media critics, not the invited guests of the memorial, are responsible for politicizing Mrs. King’s funeral. Any assertion to the contrary only further illustrates this truth." Remember, anyone who disagrees is wrong. This was right after he accused me of presuming only my opinion was right.

Say it Ain't So, Rocky

2010-12-13T11:00:00.000-05:00

This is a "The Whirling Dervish" piece originally published by Speakeasy October 27, 2005. I only offer this because I predicted the fourth "Rambo" movie.

There are good ideas, like having Quentin Tarantino as a guest director during the filming of “Sin City.” There are bad ideas, such as casting George Clooney as Batman. And then there’s the idea to make a sixth “Rocky” movie.

While Hollywood is a place where mystifying decisions are made all the time, this one is one of the most stupefying. When this was announced, was there honestly anyone that thought they couldn’t wait for this? Or did everyone react with an appropriate mix of dread and skepticism at the prospect of seeing a 60-year-old Stallone in the ring? Is anyone else hoping that he won’t be killed?

What’s more, his wife, Adrian, will be dead. Well, there goes half the dialogue. What is he supposed to half-coherently mumble about now? There really isn’t a good way to look at this. And how can there be a sixth “Rocky” when everyone agreed that “Rocky V” should havenever happened?

This has the potential to kill the previous “Rocky” movies. Kids who have never seen the other movies before might see this one first, and they’ll never want to see another one again. And that’s a shame, because the first three movies in the franchise are great to watch. It’s hard not to get inspired by Balboa’s determination. It’s hard not to watch “Rocky III” and think “Wow, that Mr. T. was one tough dude. This is even better than those 1-800-COLLECT begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 1-800-COLLECT end_of_the_skype_highlighting commercials he did."

“Rocky” is one of those movies fathers show to their sons as they get older. But this almost seems like the joke in “Spaceballs” in which the movie critic reviewed “Rocky 5000.” Sly, it’s not too late. Just make the fourth Rambo movie- also a bad, bad idea- and spare us. Nobody watched “The Contender.” Nobody wants to see a geriatric Rocky Balboa getting his brains beat in by Roy Jones Jr. And you just know Stallone is going to make Rocky win that match somehow. He won’t be able to resist. And that’s just ridiculous. Who would believe it? Evander Holyfield is a young buck at 43 by comparison and he’s staggered around the ring like he just ate the worm the last few years.

Record Hurricane Season

It’s somewhat surprising scientists aren’t using this insane hurricane season to twist the arms of people and make them admit global warning is real and a problem. Three massive hurricanes this year are no coincidence. The newest one, Wilma, was the most powerful ever in the Atlantic Ocean and further proof people shouldn’t give bad names to hurricanes.

After it battered central America, it has its way with Florida, with scientists predicting it won’t lose much strength over land. Well, isn’t that wonderful? I think Los Angeles is going to fall into the ocean next week the way we’re going.

There have been so many tropical storms in the Atlantic this year they’ve actually run out of names. They have now started to use Greek letters. Hurricane Alpha, the year’s 13th storm, set a new record. Hey, this is a problem! There are reasons hurricanes appear. Perhaps we should look at why and try to mitigate the causes.

Afghan Iraq?

Speaking of hiding one’s head in the sand, Condoleezza Rice said she wants the U.S. to follow the “Afghan model” in Iraq. This is a fantastic idea. Allowing local warlords to take control of various portions of the country, rampant drug trafficking, continuing to fight rebels in remote areas and having no reasonable way to leave in the foreseeable future is a winning plan everyone can get on board with.

While the recent earthquake in Kashmir is a tragedy by any stretch of the imagination, it’s possible some positive consequences could come of it. Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf said he is ready to open the Line of Control on the India border to allow as much aid as India is willing to send across the border, a move the Indians welcomed. If anything good can come of this, perhaps the two countries can finally start building a bridge over that wide chasm between them. Everyone there could use peace.

If This Were a Movie, Nobody Would Believe It

2010-12-12T12:05:00.000-05:00

This was a "The Whirling Dervish" piece originally published October 17, 2005. One thing I noticed: I really was against "Laguna Beach."

Southeast Asia found itself on the receiving end of yet another natural disaster last week as a 7.6 magnitude earthquake shook Kashmir. The death toll has climbed past 35,000 and as many as 40,000 Pakistanis may have been killed. The sick joke here is that this is a pittance when compared to last year’s tsunami; we may never know how many lives that disaster claimed.

Compounding the problem is the mountainous terrain of the area, making it hard for aid to arrive. Drinking water has become polluted, causing a Turkish newspaper to declare the area a “ Web of Disease.”
The troubling part is how many people are finding out about this for the first time right now.

A wildfire in California that burns 10 homes or so down grabs national headlines and keeps CNN relaying a live feed of smoke all day. It’s news. People talk about it. But how many times have I heard mention of the Asia quake? How often does someone bring this up in conversation? It hasn’t happened yet to me, and I like to think I run in circles with people that know what’s going on.

And it’s far from being a trend. It’s learned behavior at this point.

One of the first things a young, eager journalism student learns is what makes a story worthy of publishing. In other words, what is going to make people want to read it? One of these criteria is proximity. In other words, if you’re at a paper in Oregon, is anyone going to read about what might be big news in Delaware? It’s a good guide, otherwise, you might be reading about intramural championships at Arizona State on this Web site.

But I always thought there was a critical flaw in the principle. American newspapers pay little more than lip service to international news. An unwritten rule has been the more bodies, the bigger the headline. Take the California example: because it’s closer, three people dying might be enough to make the front page of national newspapers. But 2,000 people dying in Thailand might get little more than a mention on page 3 of the international section. I thought that these papers weren’t doing these events justice.

Of course, being a little older and a little wiser, I’ve realized why this is the case. Americans don’t care.
There’s no other reason to explain it. It’s easy for us to put the strife of faraway lands aside and we do. Why? It’s unpleasant. We don’t like to think about it. We usually live in a place that’s wealthy, safe, and free from devastating natural events. Katrina was the biggest news story of the year. But had a storm of that magnitude swept through some parts of the world, and only killed 2,000, people would have been on their knees in thanks.

It’s much easier for us to think about the vapid kids on “Laguna Beach,” isn’t it? Nobody really gets hurt. It’s a nice little escape. But pause for a moment and think about what a mother who lost her children in the quake would think if someone told her we’d rather hear about Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes’ engagement.

That can’t be it, can it? We care, right? After all, our nation did come together as one national consciousness when Katrina and Rita unleashed themselves on the Gulf coast. But why do we turn a blind eye to other places? Well, we don’t, do we? When terrorists blew up some trains in London, we cared. We cared when the Madrid bombing killed 50.

There’s a disconnect somewhere. It could be that we paid more attention because it was people killing people, not Mother Nature killing people. And while Katrina devastated a major city in a way I thought I would never see, we’re going to rebuild it. We have the money and the resources.

What about Pakistan? What money do they have? How are they going to rebuild? Many of the 2,500,000 that lost their homes will never get another. There is no such thing as rebuilding or recovery for them.

Shouldn’t we care? Do we have a deep, dark place inside we don’t like to talk about where we put the problems of these poor, distant people away so they don’t trouble us?

There’s an answer somewhere. But I think we’re afraid to find it.

Get the Facts Straight

2010-12-11T12:00:00.000-05:00

This was a "The Whirling Dervish" piece originally published by Speakeasy on October 10, 2005.

Any column/blog/whatever – nay, any new school year – should start off the right way: making fun of Miami. And lo and behold, it’s easier than ever.

Last week, ESPN graced Oxford for the annual gridiron war between the Cincinnati Bearcats and the Miami Redski...er, RedHawks. The game promotes itself as the oldest rivalry “west of the Alleghenies.” That’s all well and good, but perhaps the school should take some time to teach its students where the Alleghenies are first.

Any student that has spent more than about 10 minutes on campus has probably taken at least one jab from Miami students and alumni in their sweater vests about how the school is a “public Ivy,” whatever that means, and just how wonderful the school is academically. At least the average Bobcat knows that Columbus is not home to a mountain range.

Perhaps some of these scholars came from western Pennsylvania. After all, how can one expect them to know their geography when they’re too busy letting boys play on girls teams? I think they’re really onto something. After all, I was little more than an average tennis player among other boys, but against girls, I think I could have made states. And I would have fist-pumped and taunted and smirked every inch of the way. I might have even held my racquet above my head victoriously like a war trophy. Of course, because the Ohio High School Athletic Association has common sense, my dream was never realized. The Man is always keeping me down like that.

I can’t wait for the first time some 6-foot-5-inch 250-pound man-child plasters some poor field hockey player and gives her a concussion. Not only would the lawsuit be completely justified, Oprah might actually explode. Then again, she survived Tom Cruise’s attempts to choke her, so we might need a plan “B.”

Of course, none of this is quite as unbelievable as the music industry. First, MTV has a new weapon in the war to make sure America’s youth has no independent spirit or brains. It’s bad enough they actually take the time to tape, edit, and produce a show taken from the lives of spoiled, out-of-touch kids in Orange County, Calif., who wouldn’t know what actual work was if it handed them a rent due notice. Now they’re using these people to record albums. You know a man is serious about his music when he grows his hair out like any decent rocker would...but he doesn’t want to do the “normal thing.” It’s good to get these things straight.

More troubling, however, is something that, no matter how many times one reads it, doesn’t seem real. One needs no proof that Satan exists than hearing the news that Ice-T is producing a David Hasselhoff rap album. But if it features a remix of the “Baywatch” theme, I might just have to buy it.

Good, Clean. Messy Fun

2010-12-10T16:39:00.000-05:00

This was a "The Whirling Dervish" piece, originally published April 26, 2005.

One of the great things about going home is digital cable. This isn’t to say that the HBO and movie channels in the dorms aren’t great, but the variety of the additional seven million extra channels (that’s an approximate total) can’t be beat.

And while Nickelodeon is so awful now it’s practically unwatchable, Generation Y has been thrown a couple digital bones. That’s right, The First Network for Kids has a channel dedicated exclusively to the great game shows of the ’90s. Called Nick GaS (Get it? Games and sports.), it has them all: Nick Arcade, Legends of the Hidden Temple, Figure it Out, GUTS, a show that featured Mike O’Malley when he still acted like he cared, and the king of them all, Double Dare.

For those who were unfortunate and never had the chance to watch it, here’s a rundown of a typical show:

There are two teams, the red team and the blue team. The show would start with the two teams facing off with some sort of competition. It could be any sort of competition, but it was always messy, such as breaking water balloons over a person’s head or dipping a sponge in some mush and trying to throw it through a hole.

When one team won the face-off, the two squads would then move to separate podiums. The winning team would be the first to get asked a question by host Marc Summers. The team could answer the question or “dare” the other team to answer it, doubling the point total. The other team has the same option, to answer or to “double dare” the original team to answer, tripling the original question’s point value. The team had one final choice to make. They could answer the question or take a physical challenge.

The physical challenges were part of what made Double Dare so great. There were major points at stake – if the team failed, the opposing team would get them, so slacking was not an option. Again, the challenges were a bit on the silly side, and the main object was to make as big a mess as possible, but it was a lot of fun to watch.

After two rounds of this, the team with the higher point total was declared the winner. The winning team then had the opportunity to tackle the obstacle course.

For anyone who remembers the show, the obstacle course was an awesome thing. The team had one minute to try and pass through eight obstacles. At the end of each, the player had to grab a flag and pass it to his/her teammate. Each completed obstacle came with a prize, including a grand prize at the end.

Some of the obstacles were easy and some were hard. But there was always one make-or-break obstacle in the middle that almost always determined whether or not the team would win. Found in the middle of the course, it was usually something like a giant peanut butter and jelly sandwich that the flag was hidden in. If the flag was found quickly, the team was in good shape. But more often than not, the contestant flailed helplessly through the mess, unable to find the small orange flag.

It was all very simple, but it worked perfectly. The formula was tinkered with, as there was a family version later on and a “Super Sloppy” edition as well, but the basics remained the same. It is a highly recommended watch even today, but not the lame Double Dare 2000.

In fact, the question must be asked: Why aren’t there shows like this today? When it was on, all kids wanted to be on Double Dare. It looked like so much fun. Who watches Fear Factor and says, “You know, I could really go for some bull testicle?” Why does the emphasis have to be on humiliation and not plain fun? And aside from classics like The Price is Right, it’s not seen anymore on television.

Another relic of the show is the hosts themselves. Summers was the perfect choice to host it, even if you can see the obsessive-compulsive disorder he suffered from twist his face into agony at times. The announcer, Harvey, was a very blue-collar man – bald and bearded with big glasses and unimpressive blue jeans. He wasn’t the sassy, sexy announcer a new game show would feature today. Instead he was genuine and warm. He was appreciated. Aside from her looks, who appreciated Brooke Burns on Dog Eat Dog?

Perhaps on a higher level, the comparison can be made to all television today. We are force fed “edgy” programming with a dearth of quality, instead of silly, simple, fun things everyone can appreciate and enjoy. Maybe all those digital cable channels are a blessing after all. They provide an escape route from network programming to things actually worth watching.

To Memphis or to Hell

2010-12-09T04:38:00.000-05:00

As some of you may know, I used to write a column for Speakeasy Magazine entitled "The Whirling Dervish." This came after my messy divorce with The Post. Because Speakeasy is terribly managed, all my pieces are no longer on the site. But a trip to the Internet Wayback Machine was fruitful, so I'll repost some of my better pieces. I think my writing has improved since then. Of course, I'm my own harshest critic. Maybe I still suck. I got the idea after reading Joe Posnanski's account of his Pittsburgh-to-New York odyssey. This was the introductory "Dervish," published April 19, 2005.

Few things top going on a road trip with friends. Whether planned or spontaneous, throwing some clothes in the car and hitting the asphalt can turn into a weekend that will be remembered forever.

And boy, last Friday is not going to fade from my mind anytime soon.

I went with fellow Sigma Theta Epsilon brothers Andrew and Isaac to the annual business meeting in Memphis. The three of us spent Friday in Isaac’s car driving from Athens to Memphis. The following is an approximate timeline (in Eastern daylight time) of events that unfolded as we made our way to Elvis’ hometown.

12:30 p.m.- Scheduled time to leave Athens.

1:30 p.m.- Actual time we left Athens. Mapquest claims it’s a 10 and a half hour drive, so we’ll see. On another note, has anyone left for a trip on time? Ever? I don’t think it’s possible. It’s almost a requirement for any trip in which state lines are crossed. Maybe we should just schedule earlier so that we’re actually on time when we leave late.

4:15 p.m.- What the? Why? Kentucky has a new sign, claiming the state has “Unbridled Spirit.” That’s all fine and good, but when crossing the Ohio, I fully expected to see the declaration that Kentucky is the “state where education pays.” That’s probably the unintentionally funniest sign ever. Why make that change? Perhaps it was taken down the same time the decision was made to put a smiling sun on the license plates.

4:30 p.m. - Now that the education sign is gone, the sign for Big Bone Lick State Park takes the top spot for laughs. Yes, I’m older than 12, I promise.

8:00 p.m. - Now that we’re in Tennessee and within striking distance of Nashville, a full 75 percent of the radio stations are country music. Blunt head trauma seems like a good idea at this time.

9:00 p.m. - Aside from the city of Jackson, I-40 between Nashville and Memphis is completely separated from civilization. Sometimes, it’s 10 miles between exits and it’s just trees on both sides of you. And of course, we blow a tire.

9:35 p.m. - The bolts on the offending wheel don’t want to loosen. In fact, while trying to loosen one, Andrew instead succeeds in snapping it clean off instead. Uh oh. We’re not going to be able to do this. Should we call AAA? Andrew is a member, but he doesn’t have his card…

10:20 p.m. - Yeah, we’re going to call them. ETA for a mechanic: one hour. I’m glad I brought my Game Boy Advance with backlit screen.

11:30 p.m. - That mechanic just changed the tire in about three minutes. I’d like to turn in my Man Membership card, please.

11:45 p.m. - I think Loretta Lynn could run for governor of Tennessee and win. We keep passing Loretta Lynn this and Loretta Lynn that. In fact, there goes Loretta Lynn’s Kitchen. It looks huge.

1:45 a.m.- We’re now about 50 miles from Memphis. Boy, that sounds familiar…

1:46 a.m. - … yep, blew another tire. We’re screwed now. AAA advises us to call a tire store, but the 24-hour tire outlet hasn’t been invented yet.

2:00 a.m. - After a rodeo of several calls to AAA and several other places, here’s the problem we’re presented with: blown tire with no tire to replace it with. No tire place around to buy a tire around. Must call a tow truck. The tow truck, however, has only room for two people in the cab, and staying inside the car being towed is not allowed. The only option is to call for a taxi.

2:05 a.m. - Said taxi just quoted us a price of $135. You know, if we walk, we might make it there by Monday. Having no real choice, we hire the taxi. And being 50 miles from Memphis, it’ll take an hour for the tow truck and taxi to get to us. Time to break out the playing cards!

2:10 a.m. - In rummy, you have to have the cards in a straight be the same suit, right?

3:10 a.m. - That tow truck should’ve been here by now. Meanwhile, I’ve won three consecutive hands of blackjack. Things are looking up.

3:30 a.m. - OK, the taxi is here. Still no sight of the tow truck. The cab driver is nice enough to say he’ll wait for a while.

3:35 a.m. - Should I be concerned the driver just fell asleep?

4:00 a.m. - We talk to the taxi driver a bit. We find out that he’s been living in Memphis for several years after moving there from Senegal. Yeah, I know I’d want to move to Memphis of all places if I was coming from Africa.

4:30 a.m. - Oh look, it’s the tow truck. What happened? He was sent to get us on I-54. The only flaw in that plan was that we’re on I-40 at mile 54.

4:35 a.m. - The truck driver and the cab driver get chummy. No hurry, guys. Isaac gives us the uplifting news that contrary to what AAA told us, the truck has four seats for passengers. At this point I remember I haven’t eaten in 12 hours.

4:45 a.m. - We’re finally off to…somewhere. After the bit about being told about the truck having four seats, I curled into a ball and shut the rest of the world off.

5:45 a.m. - Hey, where’s the tow truck? Let’s wait for it.

6:20 a.m. - There it is. How something could fall that far behind, I have no idea.

6:40 a.m. - The truck has dropped Isaac’s car off at Wal-Mart, where the tire center will be opening soon. Isaac told the taxi driver to let him off at the main entrance, but apparently didn’t say it loud enough because the driver nearly got on the highway before we got his attention to let Isaac off.

7:15 a.m. - We finally make it to the luxurious Clarion Hotel, a sister chain of Comfort Inn. On the plus side, the continental breakfast is being served. On the negative side, they don’t have any record of Andrew in the computer, which means he doesn’t have a room. And why would they, after a night like this?

7:30 a.m. - The only reasonable thing I can think to do is to eat a lot of breakfast. Did I mention the meeting starts in two hours?

After eating, showering (after a night like that, you really need a nice, hot shower) and trying to figure out how to get a room for Andrew - we find out later Isaac has the same problem - I get about 10 minutes of sleep before the meeting starts. At least some of the other brothers tell us that’s the best travel story they’ve heard in years. Well, that’s something, isn’t it?

Ever try to sit in an all-day business meeting when you’re on virtually no sleep? Try it sometime. Barrels of joy. Isaac didn’t get his car taken care of until noon. And by that time, we were concerned he was lost somewhere in Memphis, or maybe even in Mississippi without realizing it.

But the new tires were fine, and we had no problems on the drive back to Athens. It was a banner trip, if there ever was one.

My Bucket List

2010-12-04T00:35:00.000-05:00

1. Say something clever, then die.

William Penn

2010-10-09T17:56:00.000-04:00

It's a mid-Saturday afternoon with just about perfect weather (right around 80 degrees). Where am I? The library. I have assignments due and tasks to keep up. I'm doing my best to stay on top of these things¹, and because I will be gone all day Sunday, today is Library Day.

Not that I'm happy about it. These chairs are really uncomfortable. My back aches. Chinese students nearby don't understand the concept of “library voice.²” While I am here because I focus is much better than at home, I can't help but lift my eyes from the screen and look around. A blue book two stacks away catches my eye: The Political Writings of William Penn³. Most people wouldn't think anything of this, but I have a connection of sorts to Penn. You see, the Fitzwaters came over to America in 1682 with Penn on the ship Welcome. Check it out. These are my direct ancestors. That makes us one of America's oldest European families, which is pretty cool. I think about how remarkable it is that my family knew a man⁴ who is important enough even today that books about him or collections of his writings sit on library shelves. The dude has a state named after him. There's no John Idaho, y'know? And the people that bear my name knew him, traveled to the New World with him. The Fitzwaters had a servant they brought with them. That's some serious money talking there. The Fitzwaters were people of some distinction.

Go back further in my genealogy and you'll find Sir Robert Fitzwalter (not a misspelling), a man important enough to sign the freaking Magna Carta and was a leader of a baronial opposition against King John⁵. We don't mess around. In England, the Fitzwaters were nobility, a family with a coat of arms back when it meant something to have them.

328 years later, I'm sitting in Alden Library. What happened?

____________________________________________________________

1 I got sick twice in the first three weeks of the quarter, and that really set me back when combined with an unexpected lethargy. I worked hard to get back on pace. I didn't enjoy it.

2 Mandarin is perhaps the most irritating language to listen to that humans speak. I hate it. What's a guy gotta do for a little Cantonese?

3 Nearby: Firm Heart and Capacious Mind: The Life and Friends of Etienne Dumont. If nothing else, a catchy title.

4 Even if they didn't know Penn before the trip, which seems unlikely, they certainly made acquaintances at some point during the two-month trip.

5 I was voted “Most Likely to Start a Revolution” in high school. It's in my blood!

The Flow

2010-09-20T15:04:00.000-04:00

The cold wind blows
and swirls past her cheek
while she stares down the road.
Hands in her pockets
and lips pursed,
she awaits her phantom carraige.
The gray wall above her
does not blink
and she does not acknowledge.
Her cheeks would be stained
if not for a lack of caring.
But in this city of blue lights,
where are her angels?

Investagatory Journalism

2010-09-12T21:43:00.000-04:00

Back in the spring, my roommate's girlfriend told me a mutual acquaintance of ours said I am creepy. Now, I'm not one for caring much what others say about me, but "creepy" is not something I deal with. At the very least, I would like to know why said person finds me creepy. Luckily, I had an an entire summer to stew over it. I asked her about it last weekend. She said she meant I'm creepy in a good way, which: What? How in the world is that a good thing? She further illustrated: "I find spiders creepy, but they're awesome."

Not too much more helpful. It was a weird explanation that didn't make sense to me, and I figured she couldn't come up with a better lie immediately. Not the best end to the story, but whatever. I put it behind me. Then, the other night, a friend told me the real reason she finds me creepy is because I'm "always having girls over."

Huh?

So many things here.

What are we, Puritans? I'm in my mid-20's. Is there something wrong with having guests of the opposite sex? If so, I missed that notice.
The assumption that, when girls are here as my guest, we're doing anything remotely sexual is weird and, ironically, creepy.
You know how many women I've had over here in the last year? Four. Four. If that somehow equates to "all the time," standards have been taken to an all-time low. Steve and I brain conferenced, and in the two and a half years he's lived with me, we came up with seven females I have had here as my guest. I just thought of another, so that's eight. Eight. In two and a half years. Not only am I not having women over "all the time," the exact opposite is true. Women are rarely darkening my doorstep.

I think that showed her! Yeah, I totally came out on top!

Smile and Salute

2010-09-11T09:11:00.000-04:00

Woe to the happy tribes
upon whom we reflect.
Children on a poster,
adults herded in conference.
We sell their noble spirit
and celebrate the beautiful dead.

Organizing the Chaos of My Mind

2010-09-09T10:49:00.000-04:00

Anybody who has had a 2-minute conversation with me knows my mind is a labyrinth of thought. I struggle as much as anyone else to make sense of what's going on up there. Things pop in and out without any real warning or purpose. I also love writing in this blog, but I'm not always in the right time or place to write about what's on my mind. Often, if I don't do it immediately, I'll forget.

At some point, I found that writing down what I later wanted to address here was a good way of putting my thoughts on layaway. Problem is, I'm really bad at not getting back to things I put off for another time. As a result, I have several Post-It notes with writing ideas scribbled on them. A few have been crossed out because I actually did write on the topic, but for the most part, it's a growing list. I feel like a hapless bureaucrat of myself, the inbox of work mounting with precious few making it to the outbox.

We're Going Backwards

2010-09-08T22:47:00.000-04:00

While I love spring, it has always been a problem with me with allergies. I spend the first half of every day sneezing, sniffling, and wheezing for a good portion of the season. At this point, I've come to expect it and I accept it. I tough it out and stock up on Puffs Plus.

But for whatever reason, the allergies have come back in the Fall. I'm entirely unprepared for this. Last weekend was particularly miserable; my body thought it was sick so I was dry coughing. I really didn't enjoy that.

So whatever is causing this allergenic revival... stop.

The Search

2010-09-05T12:58:00.000-04:00

And if I could
wrap me around myself,
I think I could
discover something of truth.

The Slowly Creeping Insanity

2010-09-01T15:21:00.001-04:00

I kind of hate Pixar. I didn't see “Toy Story 3” until a couple weeks ago. When going to the theatre, I certainly did not expect it to take a crowbar to my emotional Pandora's Box. Quick spoiler: When they were at the incinerator holding hands and bracing for the end, I was about to sob uncontrollably. I totally believed they were about to die and I could not understand how Pixar could do that to us.

Knowing the tear-misting effects the movie had, I steeled myself emotionally near the end. I didn't cry, mainly because I was so determined not to. But darn it if the movie would not win in the end.

Later that night, I was lying on the couch watching a DVD. For reasons that I still do not know, I thought back to May. She had come to visit for the weekend, and we were on that couch watching “The Princess Bride.” Eventually, we ended up cuddling. It was later in the night and she was tired, so she was drifting in and out of sleep. I wasn't tired at all, so I was just lying there, holding her, sometimes watching her. Occasionally, she would wake up and look back at me. Once or twice when she did that, she smiled. And it wasn't a smile of excitement. It was a smile of contentment, the kind of smile you have when things are as they should be.

We made plans for me to come up to her and take her to “Toy Story 3.” A few days before I was going to do that, she pulled away again. The reasons she gave were a rephrasing of things she's said before. So I was on my couch, thinking of both of these things, and a wave of sadness swept over me. I couldn't figure out why this was happening, which only made it worse.

Intellectually, I accept why she pushed me away again. But for whatever reason, I can't accept it emotionally. I have in the past, but it's been different this time, and I don't know why. I've tried to sort it out but failed. It's been really hard, because it keeps sneaking up on me and taking me to a place I don't want to go. I have not been able to shake this for some time now, and it's eating away at me. I understand now is not the time. I do. But there is that part of me that is so convinced we are right for each other and that we should be together, and it can't be reasoned with. It will not accept being apart from her. Every conversation with her only reinforces this belief. It nearly makes me sick.

I've long held the belief that we happen in cycles. We are apart and don't talk often for some time, then we start talking again, and we grow closer to each other. At some point, one of us bails, and the cycle begins anew. I've even told her my theory, and she didn't disagree. But with her and me living in the same city for the first time, that cycle is going to end. I just don't know what the result will be. I can't trust myself to be lucid enough to assess the situation accurately, so I don't know what's going on in her head or in her heart.

But I know what's in mine, and it aches for her. I know no other woman like her. I never felt another person was the matching piece of a jigsaw until I met her. I could never completely be myself, flawed as I am, with a woman like I can with her. We can talk for hours, all night, and I still don't want the conversation to end. She knows all my secrets, the ones I don't want to tell myself. I am convinced God wants for us to be together. And I know there's a decent chance she'll read this and know that this is about her. I just don't know what's to come.

I hope she knows that I would move mountains for her, that I am willing to do whatever it takes. I know the price and I want to pay it. And I hope this doesn't completely drive her away. But she knows me as well as I know her, so she knows I couldn't not write this.

Basics

2010-08-30T12:56:00.000-04:00

I'm still me,
are you still you?
Or did you
turn into someone else too?

We the People, In Order to Form a More Perfect Sports League

2010-08-30T02:45:00.000-04:00

Being a sports fan is what used to define me. Heck, to many people, my sports fandom is still what defines me¹. It's no coincidence; I love most sports, playing or watching. I used to memorize everything I could about the Indians. I've been known to disappear from society during Grand Slam events. I even cover basketball as a beat.
But in recent years, my enthusiasm has ebbed. There are a number of reasons for this. ESPN's dominance of everything sport has proven irksome, as has the obnoxiousness of fans in general. These are, however, minor annoyances I could probably deal with. What I find extremely off-putting is the antagonizing nature of the athletes and owners. Despite the facts these teams and leagues exist because of the fans, players, owners, and leagues treat fans like crap. Athletes regard fans with contempt, as wannabes that are jealous of their talent, fame, and fortune². Owners and leagues look at fans as cash cows to be milked for everything they're worth. We lose at every turn.

It's one thing to be subjected to MLB's ridiculous blackout rules or NFL season ticket holders being forced to but preseason tickets. Yeah, it's annoying and a little bit of a mugging, but most will gnash their teeth and deal with it. It's entirely another thing for leagues and owners to hold cities and taxpayers hostage in order to procure sweetheart deals that make the mega-rich even richer.

This is nothing new. New baseball stadia have been springing up all over America the last 15 years after every team rattled the pauper's cup. If a city hesitated, Bug Selig would swoop in and suggest a different city would be willing to foot the bill for a new palace the organization so clearly deserved. No matter if that team actually won, of course. They must have a new stadium, and when they get it, the wins will come with it. I need not cite anything that disproves that stupid argument; I need only to point in the general direction of Pittsburgh.

Then we come to the sad tale of the Seattle Sonics, and how the great fans there got totally abused by the ownership, David Stern, and eventually the city.

The straw that breaks the camel's back comes from Miami. I remember my trip there last year and seeing a number of people angry about the prospect of a new stadium for the Marlins. They didn't want what they characterized as a bailout for the team. I didn't know much about it, and most of the people that were against it were poor, so I thought that perhaps it was only the lower classes that were opposed to the idea.

Turns out they were on to something. Reports have come in detailing the way the Marlins management completely hoodwinked the city and county government, crying poor while pocketing deep profits and finagling a deal that will cost taxpayers $2.4 billion. Yeah. Billion. What makes this all the sadder is that this is only the latest episode in what has become a long-running series. Owners start to complain they're not making any money and that their venue is outdated. They threaten to leave the area, pitting local governments against fans that do not want to see their team leave³. They manage to procure a new building at little personal expense but get to keep the vast majority of the profits generated from it. This is the pattern. This is the playbook.

Do we see the problem with this? Because I do. We do not exist to pour money into the coffers of sports ownership. If they want to upgrade their facilities, they should do it themselves. If you want to make the argument that the city should chip in because it benefits from these teams, fine. But these men (not women) need to start paying their fair share, especially in these tough times.

Until they get a reality check, I'm done. These greedy people will get no more of my money. I will continue to support the ATP, as they have the crazy idea of financing themselves. But the NBA, MLB? Done. I'll go so far as to steal from them at every opportunity, just because they do it to us. We need to stand up and let them know they won't build a fortune off our tax money. I'll take a step forward. Consider coming with me.

_________________________________________________________________

1 This is something I embraced in the past. Now it's something I'm trying to shed.

2 They are right at least some of the time. The cutthroat nature of fandom these days does nothing to endear a player to anyone.

3 Why is it that so many of the people that happily agree to pay more in taxes to build new arenas rail against school levies and social programs?

Lifeline

2010-08-20T12:54:00.000-04:00

Hold on to me
let me breathe
Hold on to me
make me believe
Don't let go of me
I need to be relieved
Stay firm with me
I know not
which me I see.

We Love Rankings

2010-08-18T12:05:00.010-04:00

The newest U.S. News & World Report college rankings are out. We now have the most up-to-date way of calling alumni other schools illiterate morons.

The rankings are stupid. We know this¹. They weight importance of things weirdly. Different schools exist for different reasons, specialize in different things, and serve different constituencies. You can't objectively rank Cal Poly against Bard College. You just can't. And rankings can't measure the ways a person can grow as a citizen of the world. I can go on and on giving reasons why this list holds no weight. I can get on board with comparing individual programs, but not entire schools.

At the same time...

Ohio University fell to 124^th, down from 115 last year. It's still Tier I. But that is completely unacceptable. 124 is nothing to shake a stick at; there are thousands of schools in the US and 124 puts us squarely in the top 1%. Expand that to the 6 billion in the world and there's zero room to complain. Bobcats are truly among the world's intellectual elite.

However, we can and should do better. We have so much going for us and to see our gradual slide down the rankings² is profoundly sad. The opportunities and surroundings OU and Athens provides are extraordinary, and there's no way 123 schools can top it. So what is causing our tumble down the educational ladder?

In a word, money. We're in a bad way. We have too many majors and too many administrators. We can't get rid of either because of a penis-size contest between the faculty³ and the administration/trustees⁴. There's no trust between either side, so they can't work together. We all suffer as a result.

Under Robert Glidden, we refurbished, acquired, and built too much and we have a lot of debt. We're caught up in the amenities arms race and have committed a ton of resources to attracting students with shiny bells and whistles⁵. Many of our dorms are crumbling and slated for a much-needed renovating. This all costs a lot of money.

In case you haven't noticed, very little of this has to do with actual education. All of these projects, combined with a sharp decline in revenue, have taken its toll. We can't pay faculty competitive salaries, so promising young professors move on. We've cut staff to the bone and beyond, so our landscape and buildings aren't maintained as well as they should be.

All this is in the face of the fact tuition is absurdly high and going up.

More than one person has suggested the problem is the trustees are treating the university as a business. It's possible, but it doesn't matter how the place is run as long as everyone has lost sight of why OU exists in the first place. That goes for the faculty, no matter how loudly they claim they have the educational mission of the university in mind. Right now, everyone is concerned about everything other than what is being taught. We need to take a step back and look at everything we're doing honestly. What are we doing? What do we need to do? What can we do without?

Ohio State has 38,479 students and about 160 majors. Miami has 14,671 students and about 100 majors. OU has 17,176 students and more than 250 majors. Do we see the logical detachment here?

There are wonderful things going on in Athens. OU is a leader in sustainability, and the school and the town has a great tradition of social awareness and activism. In learning things that can't necessarily be taught in the classroom, we're near the top of the nation. We need to climb back up the mountain in the classroom and on the ledger, too.

___________________________________________________________________

1 We know this, yet we still regard them as authoritative. It's insane.

2 We're below schools like LSU, Buffalo, Dayton, and Tennessee.

3 Faculty Senate has zero problem putting a scarlet letter on athletics but will not yield a single major or program, no matter how superfluous. Also, they either need to unionize or not. Stop talking about it and decide already.

4 The powers that be have fallen into the same trap many corporations fell prey to. They hired too many officers that do too little and are either unable or unwilling to look at themselves when trimming the fat. The Board of Trustees, meanwhile, has proven itself deaf to the needs and desires of the people they're supposed to be serving. Instead, they treat the OU community as a nuisance.

5 We spent $10.4 million on Shively Dining Hall! $10.4 million!

Not the Race, Not the Finish

2010-08-17T18:52:00.001-04:00

Some fairly standard boilerplate here.

Yeah, it's nice to get a little affirmation every now and then, but this isn't anything I haven't seen before. Look, yes, us "nice guys" do tend to do those things, and yes, it would be nice for that to be recognized, appreciated, and acted upon.

But let's be honest here. Most "nice guys" find themselves in the friend zone because they don't have the balls to make a move and ask a girl out. There's a window. The guys who have a little courage are the ones that don't let it close. Most "nice guys" let the window close then complain about it. They don't try to re-open it, either.

In other words: The "nice guys" need to look in the mirror a little bit.

Equity

2010-08-08T08:58:00.000-04:00

Who you see
and
who I am
are not
the same person.
But if I
were to show you
who I
really am
you wouldn't know
me.

A Simple Wish

2010-08-04T12:50:00.000-04:00

All I wanna do
is to kiss you
all the way through
like the day is new
like we're true

The Man in the Mirror is Me

2010-08-03T11:20:00.000-04:00

You've been there when you heard people complaining about a certain action. You take note of their distaste for this action. You know that it's wrong. You tell yourself that's not you. You won't do that.

But it's easy to make that promise outside of the situation. What do you do when, placed in that situation, you find yourself doing that very thing you promised yourself you would not do? That you're no better than the jerks others complained about?

A New Favorite Thing

2010-08-02T01:54:00.001-04:00

Those who know me personally know how much I love my water bottle. I've often said that and my bed are two of my favorite three possessions. When asked what the third is, the common answer was, “I don't know.”

Well, now I know:

That's right, a pair of shoes¹. But... these are no ordinary shoes. You can probably tell that by looking at them. The idea is that you feel and walk like you're barefoot without actually having to go barefoot. It's a more natural way to walk and run, and it's a lot healthier. Wearing it feels like a glove on your feet, which is pretty cool. Walking around, I can feel the ground beneath me. And I certainly don't feel restricted like I do when wearing traditional shoes. Not having to worry about blisters on my toes constantly is pretty nice.

Yeah, they look a little goofy, but that's because we're just not used to seeing them. In time, I think they'll look as natural as they feel². And it's certainly a conversation piece. So yeah... I love them. And I think everyone should try them, provided you don't have special foot needs. They're a revelation.
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1 And I'm not even gay!

2 I can't tell you how fun it is to be able to wiggle your toes in shoes.

Things I Learned Today

2010-07-31T16:06:00.008-04:00

Even after pushing me away once again, even though we haven't spoken in more than a month, when I see you... I still smile.

But I realized something. I'm completely disenfranchised in this saga; it's as though I'm watching someone put together a jigsaw puzzle but can't participate. It's not completely your fault. I let you do this. There's a way to change that, but it's not a price I'm willing to pay.

I'll stay the course. From this vantage point, it's still the best strategy. But I don't have to like it.

The Gap

2010-07-28T12:48:00.000-04:00

Short of greatness
short of glory
I need You
the bridge
to see my safely
to my destination

Haze

2010-07-20T12:47:00.000-04:00

I've been stumbling
blind through here
unable to see
what I trip over
Then came a light
cutting through the fog
promising a way out
I trust the light
and I go

Pandora

2010-07-11T12:46:00.000-04:00

Closed
have I been
unyielding
and unwelcoming
Then you came along
holding the key
I never knew existed

Aware

2010-07-03T12:44:00.000-04:00

Consider this
my suicide note
to who
I used to be.
He had to be killed
if I ever wanted
to live.
I don't know
to attend the burial
with regret
pity
or anger.

Need of the Real

2010-06-26T12:42:00.002-04:00

Occasionally I like to play
human for a day
open my eyes to the world
allow my emotions unfurled
at the end I can see the pain
where my soul has a stain
of course they're stained too
because I always follow through
and I think I could learn
the humans freeze and they burn.

Essential

2010-06-18T12:39:00.000-04:00

To strip down
all that is extraneous
would leave
only you.
How wonderful
would that be
if we
could tear everything else
away?

Out There

2010-06-11T12:37:00.000-04:00

Sometimes
I let the sky
envelop me
and expand my mind
like a vast ocean
in which
everything exists
and there are
storms
and there is
calm.

No Change to Believe In

2010-06-10T13:29:00.001-04:00

I suppose things only looked like they were going to change.

I was excited when Susan Gwinn was unseated from the Athens Country Democratic Party Central Committee¹, guaranteeing she would no longer chair the party. Naturally, a letdown followed. Establishment candidate, Athens City Council President, and Gwinn ally Bill Bias won the party chair by a 38-26 vote despite the efforts of a reform faction.

In the end, it will be more of the same. I can only hope that the reform wing of the party continues to gain momentum and can accrue enough members to affect real change². Maybe I can just hope that guys like Alan Swank³ will have the balls to say whom he voted for after giving a speech in support of one of the candidates.

I don't know why I maintain my Democrat registration. I hate this party.

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1 That's a long name.

2 I considered running for Central Committee, but my time in Athens is drawing to a close, and I would be going up against arguably the strongest member of the party in Lenny Eliason.

3 If anyone embodies the elitist, you-can't-be-happy-if-I'm-not-happy stereotype of Democrats, it's Swank. I do not like the guy. I think he's a hypocrite and a phony. Yes, I've told him as much. He was drunk at the time, though.

The Best Sort of Distraction

2010-06-08T16:49:00.001-04:00

It takes a lot to distract me from “The Princess Bride,” but there's at least one thing that can do it. While Wesley and Buttercup were negotiating the Fire Swamp, all I could look at was our hands, together, fingers intertwined. This is not new. Often I would stare at our hands, trying to comprehend how it is they can fit together so perfectly, how something so simple can be so meaningful. I don't know if I'll ever be able to completely wrap my head around it. What I do get is why I'm amazed by it. That I understand completely.

Simple

2010-06-03T14:36:00.000-04:00

I want to
put a sunflower
in your hair
watch your smile spread
take a picture.

The Enduring Torch

2010-06-01T02:36:00.000-04:00

Lord
You light my way!
I can feel
you burning
in my heart
and my soul ablaze
with you
I see
the path
you lit for me -
nothing else
in my vision.

Wherein I Complain About Unimportant Things.

2010-05-27T12:06:00.000-04:00

Our apartment is .3 miles¹ from the exit off US 50². As such, I frequently exit the freeway to get back home. If I'm coming from the north, which I almost always am, I have to turn left on Richland. 90% of the time, I'm waiting for the light to turn green. No problem. The annoying part is that there are two more lights after I proceed under an overpass that seem to be for some reason wired with the light I'm faced with getting off 50. When it turns green, the others turn red. There is no reason for this, and it happens whether or not there are cars waiting. And usually by the time the second light turns green, someone coming the opposite way is in the left hand turn lane, making me wait another 15 seconds to get home. This is all unnecessary and needs to stop.

_________________________________________________________________

1 Did we measure it? Yes. Yes, we did.

2 The road spans more than 3,000 miles from Ocean City, Maryland, to West Sacramento, California. Obviously, it's one of the country's longest roads. I like the theoretical idea that with just a couple turns I can visit my friend Brenda in Sacramento.

This is Long Past Due

2010-05-26T11:17:00.001-04:00

If I may hearken back to high school for a moment: Finally... "Daria" HAS COME TO DVD! OK, my apologies. I know that was terrible. But it took eight years (eight!) for one of my all-time favorite shows to come to DVD, so I had to channel The Rock there. We all did it back then. Yes, we were single.

What were we talking about?

Ah, yes, "Daria." Anyway, if you know me at all, you know of my profound love of this show, as well as my fascination with its existence. We had a show on MTV-MTfreakingV- that was as razor-sharp a satire of high school life and pop culture that you'll see. It skewered everything MTV and those who marketed to my generation stood for. And it did so with unparalleled skill and verve. What's most amazing is that it was a spin-off of "Beavis and Butthead," of all things. It left the air in 2002, the same year I graduated high school, and we've yet to see anything that can compare on American TV. Accidental? Consider me a skeptic.

Then, and now, I identified with the title character. She considered herself above her peers, untouchable and uncompromising. She mercilessly reconstructed the hypocrisies around her while simultaneously taking the scorn of her antisocial behavior. Like me, she thought she was immune to it and refused to admit she was all too vulnerable.

Rather than write an essay on the series (which I absolutely could do), I'll encourage you to give the series a look if you never have. As I touched on before, its wit is top-notch. The humor is smart and biting. It gives you a sense satisfying opposition to the world. Most of all, it's one of the few cartoons that meaningfully challenges its characters. They are not static; they transform and evolve. Relationships take on new dynamics over the course of five seasons. It's very satisfying to see where they end up and look back on where they began. There is, of course, a fair amount of absurdity mixed in with the satire and culture critiques.

Best of all, the DVD set has an introductory price of $50 and includes a T-shirt. For 26 hours of excellent TV, this is a more than reasonable price. I'll leave you with this piece from Salon. It does the spirit of the show justice.

Levels of Music Appreciation

2010-05-25T17:08:00.004-04:00

There are, I believe, different levels to enjoying music. I will here attempt to quantify these levels, starting at the bottom and moving up.

We start with the lowest possible level: Music you do not want to listen to under any circumstances. Let's move up from there:

Music you do not want to listen to, but will tolerate under certain circumstances. You may hate Nickelback, but your significant others likes them, so you'll grit your teeth in their car while you wonder why you're dating a Nickelback fan.
Music you enjoy under certain circumstances. Admit it: You like “Macarena” at weddings. It's OK. We're in this together. Are you listening to it at any other time? Of course not. But you have your arms out on the dance floor at your cousin's reception.
Music you enjoy when you're in certain moods. The best example I can think of is “The Wedding Singer,” when Adam Sandler he mentions he's been listening to The Cure a lot after getting dumped. We all have those bands we turn to in moments of emotion. When we don't need them, we put them away. And if we hear them, they remind us of those emotions.
Music you like... but not enough to seek out. You might ask your friend to turn it up when they play it or when you catch it on the radio, but you're not buying their album. For me, Sigur Ros fits the bill. Whenever I hear them, I think, “Oh yeah, this is good stuff.” But so I ever write them down when making lists of music to obtain? No. Yet I still like hearing them whenever I happen to.

OK, that covers music you don't have. We have to differentiate for music in our collection. They break down thusly:

Music you have, but you're not sure why. It's not checked on your playlist or you skip it often when it is. But when you go to purge songs, you keep it.
Music that you underrate in your own mind... or so you think. It's not really your favorite, and you don't listen to it often, but when you do, you wonder why you don't listen to it more often.
Music you prefer to listen to involuntarily. If it comes up on your computer or your player, you're skipping it more often than not. When it comes on the radio, not because you chose it? You listen to it and enjoy it. I feel like half of Rush falls in this category.
Music that you really like. You'll nod your head to the rhythm, turn the volume up perhaps, but you don't seek it out. When you go to play music, you don't pick it first, and it's not in your mind when searching through your collection.
Music that is your favorite. You make special playlists for it, it's the first music you pull up, you go out of your way to see it performed live if you can. You recommend it to people whenever you're able.

Lost and Found

2010-05-24T03:42:00.004-04:00

I lost my iPod a little while back. I was originally despondent, as I brought the thing everywhere with me. I listened to it walking places. I listened to it driving anywhere. I used it as a way of shutting out the world, drawing inward. Plus, I was just really used to listening to music wherever I went. I searched somewhat frantically (and fruitlessly) for it.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't justify the expense of buying a new MP3 player¹. Do I... dare go outside... without headphones? This concept may seem laughably simple to some, but I had been musically accompanied for almost eight years. I purchased a nice and pricey set of noise-canceling headphones last year. The idea of getting around with no soundtrack was nigh-unfathomable.

But, again, I'm tight with my money. So I had to bite the bullet and deal with the sounds the world around me produced.

The result? Not exactly revolutionary. I'm certainly more aware of traffic, but the difference has not been great. I've replaced the music with my inner monologue, mostly. Still, it is kind of nice. I feel more at ease walking around, more attached to the world. Perhaps in some small way, it's forcing me to hide from my surroundings a little less. I don't look at my feet as much as I did.

The problem is when I'm driving around. Not locally; I replaced the iPod with NPR some time before losing it. However, when I'm leaving the Athens area, I don't have an easy supply of music. I have to depend on radio or dig out CDs to play. I don't like that. That's the thing that might drive me to buying a new MP3 player.

As it turns out, though, I was wrong overall. I thought losing it would be a catastrophe. It hasn't been. In fact, I've hardly noticed. I don't have to worry about keeping it charged or not losing it (ironically). It's a tiny life lesson: I can easily misjudge what I consider important.

Postnote: As I was writing this, I mentioned the topic to my friend. Her response, paraphrased: She would die if she lost her iPod. You know? I think she'd do just fine.

__________________________________________________________

1 This had the hidden benefit of completely divesting myself of Apple products. Suck it, Apple.

A Bizarro Mirror

2010-05-21T10:06:00.000-04:00

If such a thing as the opposite of me exists, it might be this guy. Look, I'm not about to sermonize, but I truly do not understand the joy such a lifestyle brings. There's a post in which he runs down a list of girls that he needs to text and gives a brief description. He calls kissing them a "close." And he likes the "quick close." My reaction to that? Sadness. He mentions scripts and ploys he uses. To which I ask: Why? Yes, I know the goal. But why is that the goal? Is it a fear of vulnerability, of honesty? Is it a naked dedication to physical satisfaction? I think the first possibility is worse than the second.

I wish I knew his motivations, why he chooses to do what he does.

Letting Others Talk For Me

2010-05-20T04:02:00.000-04:00

In my random explorations of the Internet, I came across this. I've discussed my frustrations with people I think are wrongly carrying the torch of God before, but perhaps not this well. This is perhaps a new long-term goal for me: I need to find a way to deal in my mind and my heart with these people. Ever try confronting one of them? Not the best plan.

On a side note, I feel like the blog author and I would be friends if we lived anywhere near one another.

The Elevator

2010-05-15T23:17:00.000-04:00

He's using the elevator?

This is what I think. I rarely use the elevator myself; I shake my head at the people too lazy to use the stairs. But today, I'm taking the elevator. I just don't want to climb the stairs. I enter the building at the bottom floor; in my mind, this further justifies use of the lift.

And he's there, waiting. I've seen him before- the most striking memory was seeing him lift more than 1,000 pounds. The bar held as many 45-pound weights as it could, and they hung extra weights from chains.

I've never seen him smile.

And there he is, waiting for the elevator. I line up behind him. The door opens, and we step in. The silence feels tense. We're going to the same floor. The door opens. We exit.

Almost Car Crash

2010-05-06T11:05:00.002-04:00

Eeeiiiirh.

The unmistakable sound of a brake applied in panic was accompanied by whistles and murmurs. I was about to enter Bentley Hall when I heard it. Turning around, I saw an SUV at a 45-degree angle to the curb. Another care was right behind it. Somehow, the SUV failed to turn when coming off Congress Street.

Looking around, people were confused, trying to make sense of what had occurred. I look back at the SUV. It's a Mercedes. The driver is Chinese.

"Of course," I think, then immediately scold myself for the thought. The driver of the car behind the Mercedes is white. I wonder if anyone else notices this.

The car backs up, then the SUV. How did this happen? Was she on the phone? Did she blank out? Is she freaked? Is the other driver freaked?

Straightening itself out, the SUV proceeds up Richland. The car pulls into the first parking space. She probably needs a moment to gather herself. I look back at my fellow bystanders. They've resumed talking or smoking or walking. I look back to the car. It's empty. I don't see the driver.

Islands Are Not Rafts

2010-05-05T08:49:00.001-04:00

Hank Johnson was unopposed in 2008. I'm glad someone is giving Georgia voters a different option this year, because maybe it's time Rep. Johnson took his leave from Congress, even though he voted against the TARP bill.

Why? Check this out¹.

We may disagree on things, but we can agree on this: High-ranking government servants should know how the Earth works. I hope I'm not being too controversial here. I mean... good gravy. He later said he was claiming it was a metaphor. To which I say: Dude, you make a capsizing motion with your hands. You absolutely did not mean that as a metaphor. And even if you did, that was a stupid metaphor, and someone should throw a pie at you.

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1 It's a miracle that video is only 2:48, given how slowly he talks. I can't imagine sitting for a speech of his.

The Rain

2010-05-04T08:12:00.000-04:00

I stand at the bottom of the stairs, pausing momentarily. I often do that, as if I am asking myself one last time if I want to leave the sanctuary of a covering overhead. But I do. It's the reason I'm here.

When I went to bed, a steady procession of raindrops provided a pleasant backdrop to my attempts at sleep. When I awoke that afternoon, it was still raining. It had been so long since I just went outside and let myself be washed in the rain. I had to go out there, immediately, and do it.

A friend of mine had a refrigerator magnet: “Some walk in the rain. Others just get wet.” I loved it. I remember in 8^th grade, our trip to Washington D.C. It rained for a fair amount of the trip. One night, we went to the then-new FDR monument, and it was pouring. Being out there sucked... for about a minute. Then we just accepted the rain, and we had a blast. That memory still stands out in my mind¹. One time when I was waiting in the overnight shift, coworkers who had just gotten off-shift went outside and played in the rain for an hour. For that hour, they were kids again.

I take that step out. It's raining moderately hard, so it takes a minute for me to get truly wet. There's always that step between dry and wet that's just annoying. When you get past it, though, you're free. I feel water drip from my hair, snake down my back. I close my eyes. I feel in concert with the Earth. For a few precious minutes, I am able to shut my mind off. I can just feel- that rare, precious state. I breathe deeply through my nose, that fresh, musty scent I wish I could bottle.

Anybody driving by would see me standing there, my arms stretched out. What is that guy doing? Or they get it. There's really no in-between.
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1 As well as what stuck me as irony: Standing next to a waterfall in a downpour, yet being prohibited from getting in. As if there was some kind of difference.

Let's Play a Game

2010-05-03T03:35:00.005-04:00

It's called: Who is the Most Wrong?

Have a bucket or something handy, then read this. Let me know when you recover.

Good? Great.

First of all: What. The. Heck. This can't be real. It just can't. I am not a man easily fazed, but... come on. Who does that? How? Why? You have to realize at some point: I'm boinking my grandmother. This is wrong. Everyone in the world will hate me. Right?

I love, LOVE the quotes about how they get harassed when they're out together in public. Gee, why could that be? The grandmother saying she feels sexually alive for the first time in years pretty much killed my sex drive.

So we have an inter-generational love connection. OK. Gross, unconscionable, but probably not the first time in the history of the world this has happened. But having a baby? How do you find a surrogate for this? How do you even come up with the idea? What do you say to the woman? “Hey, uh, gramma and I, we wanna have a kid, but seeing as her plumbing dried up years ago, we're gonna need some help.” And how do you AGREE to that? Really? You think that's a good idea? You're on board with this?

Have these people not read the considerable literature on the problems incest babies have? No. No, they have not, because that is something intelligent people do. Non-intelligent people have sex with their family and say it's OK because of some possibly made up “condition.”

There's gotta be an island somewhere we can send these three. We'll pick the child up in a few months.

So, Who is the Most Wrong? The geriatric siren? The 26-year-old that apparently needs to triple his age to get a date? The woman who decided she'd carry their baby? I know this: We all lose.

My School: Ohio

2010-04-06T20:12:00.003-04:00

Note: I originally wrote this as submission for Mid Majority's “My School” series. When the site's proprietor went off to Vancouver for the Olympics, he invited readers to write about their schools. A handful of those pieces made it to the site. Mine didn't¹. There was an Ohio piece that made it, though. Aside from a few factual errors, it's probably the better choice and fits the site better.

I was nine when I was exposed to Ohio University^² basketball for the first time. It was 1994, and the Bobcats, led by “Shaq of the MAC” Gary Trent, were 23-7 and had a win over UConn. I didn’t know that at the time; all I saw was a team in the Cleveland Plain Dealer seeded 12^th slated to play 5^th seeded Indiana. I remember being confused because I did not know there was an Ohio and an Ohio State. But being the good Ohioan that I was^³, and because Ohio State made it easy because they did not get a tournament invite, I dutifully filled out my bracket with the Bobcats winning the national title.

I did not watch Ohio’s 84-72 loss to the Hoosiers. The Bobcats quickly fell out of my consciousness-- I didn’t even know where the campus was (Athens, a solid 3 ½ hours from Twinsburg, where I grew up)-- and I became a Wake Forest^⁴ fan. OU didn’t enter my mind again until high school, when I started looking at schools with good journalism programs. I didn’t really miss much: Aside from 1994-95 when they beat Ohio State in Columbus (a game that would have perplexed my young mind) en route to the Preseason NIT title and a #19 ranking, the team didn’t distinguish itself.

I graduated high school in 2002 and had narrowed my choices down to Ohio and Kent State^⁵. Now, I was the child of two Golden Flashes. I lived in Kent until I was 4 and did not move very far away. My sister would later attend Kent State. The Flashes were in the midst of an incredible run on the hardwood: They had won 70 games in the previous three seasons and slew Indiana in the 2001 NCAA Tournament (a coincidence of note). My father, in an attempt to get me to go to Kent, would take me to games at the M.A.C. Center^⁶. The 2001-02 season was even more special, and I watched Kent State beat Pittsburgh in the Sweet 16 at Kent’s student union^⁷.

Comparatively, I had no clue how good Ohio’s team was^⁸, but I didn’t consider basketball strength an important factor in picking a school. When I toured the campus for the first time, I knew OU was the school for me. It has a quiet energy about it, featuring Georgian architecture, a row of beautiful cherry blossoms along the Hocking River, and lots of green space. The foothills of the Appalachians surround Athens, giving people a wonderful landscape to admire from March until November. It’s hard to stay inside during the warm months; there are too many places beckoning you outside to enjoy. When people ask me to describe OU, I usually begin with its beauty.

I met Dan shortly into my freshman year. At 6’9”, he was impossible to miss. He was also one of the most outgoing and friendly people I had ever met. I was flattered when he, a senior, invited me, a freshman, to come over to his apartment to watch the Cleveland American-style football team play its games. After those games, he brought me into his room and regaled me with stories of the basketball team. He showed me videos. He told me about the O Zone, the student cheering section. It didn’t take me long to get me excited about the upcoming season. Little did I know the journey I was starting out on.

I attended my first game as a member of the O Zone Wednesday Jan. 8, 2003. Because of Ohio’s quarter system, the season starting during our winter break. I had an evening class, so I didn’t arrive until the second half. We were playing Akron, and the O Zone had come out in force. Zip Andy Hipsher made himself O Zone Enemy #1 the previous season when he came over to the section and made certain gestures and taunts to the students, and we were ready to pay him back. A titanic four overtime struggle ensued. Ohio finally prevailed, and I was hooked. It wasn’t just the exciting game, it was the energy of the O Zone, taunting Hipsher, the coach, mocking Akron players. They were creative and in sync. And Dan led us in our signature “winning team, losing team” chant^⁹.

That would be the Zone’s reputation, a group that would find the dirt on opposing players, mock them, and back the ‘Cats. We were the best section in the conference and one of the best in the country. I sound biased. But when teams like Virginia come to Athens and say the O Zone is as good as any student section they’ve seen, it feels good. Because of the O Zone, basketball games became an event. The Bobcats got a lot more support than most bad teams, which Ohio was.

We were bad for the first couple years I was in Athens, but I learned Ohio basketball had many reasons to hold its head high. In 1941, Frankie Baumholtz led the Bobcats to the NIT championship game. This was back when the NIT was the tournament that mattered. Baumholtz, the “Midvale Marvel,” went on to play professional baseball and basketball. OU was a national player in the ‘60s. They beat Notre Dame in the opening round of the NCAA tournament in 1960. In 1964, the Bobcats beat Kentucky to advance to the Elite Eight. The Convocation Center, a jewel of a facility, opened in 1968. The ‘Cats christened the building with a win over Indiana (there they are again). In 1969, back-to-back road wins over Purdue and Ohio State helped Ohio earn a #5 national ranking. This success extended early into the next decade. After home wins over the Buckeyes and Hoosiers, a local paper ran this awesome headline: OHIO WINS BIG TEN, PREPARES FOR MID-AMERICAN OPENER.

I also learned to love the MAC. There’s no other conference quite like it, a geographically close collection of schools in America’s sports heartbreak region^¹⁰. All public schools, most of them fairly big. Some in rural areas, some in urban. And the conference does a lot of things that drive me crazy, but I don’t think it would as fun being anywhere else. I doubt Illinois gets jazzed to play Penn State, but conference play in the MAC? It’s a knock down, drag out melee. When Akron comes to town? Man, we hate those guys. Kent State? I take special joy in beating them. Archrival Miami? Biggest game of the year. Buffalo? They hate us. It seems like every game is one we must win because we can’t stand the thought of losing to those jerks from the other school. Because of that, MAC affairs are not for the weak of heart.

In 2005, what started out as another subpar season turned into a magical run. After dispatching hated Marshall in the first round of the MAC tournament, Ohio defeated Kent and Miami to set up a date with Buffalo in the finals. You may have read this account of the game, but what Kyle didn’t witness was Buffalo fans coming over to the Ohio section during our semifinal against Miami and mixing it up with us, leading to the legendary “What is Buffalo sucks?” moment. I was in attendance for all of these games^¹¹, and when Leon Williams tipped in the winning basket, it capped the most exhilarating week of my life. I was too excited to even think; I didn’t care that a security guard nearly flattened me as I ran toward the court.

A few months later, Dan was playing a game of pickup in The Convo. They were playing where the O Zone bleachers get pulled out. He died there, in the O Zone, of a heart condition that did not reveal itself until it killed him. A scholarship in his name was established, and a plaque was put on his seat.

Just like Ohio recovered from 19 down against Buffalo, we charged back from down 20 against Florida^¹² in the first round of the NCAA. That run, combined with the fact we were returning all but two players, led ESPN to dub OU their “It” team of the 2005-06 season. That team proceeded to get outscored by 27 in the second half at Cincinnati, lead for the first 37 minutes against Kentucky only to lose, and start 6-1 in the MAC only to fall on their faces. The program’s been mediocre since. Head Coach Tim O’Shea left for Bryant, of all places. We’re hoping John Groce can bring us back, but right now the team is dealing with suspensions and arrests. The next few years might be determined by the next couple months.

However, the highlights and the lowlights on the court do not stand out in my memory as much as the friendships I have forged^¹³, the jokes that have been made, and the opportunities that have been afforded to me^¹⁴. I now cover the MAC for MAC Report Online^¹⁵, and I get to see every tournament game in Cleveland from media row. It’s a lot of fun, and it allows me to learn more about The Game that I ever thought I would. It’s a side gig for me, one I love doing. If you're read this, you probably understand.

If I ended up at Syracuse, I would have been there for their national title, which would have been cool. Problem is, I wouldn’t be nearly as close to the heartbeat of The Game as I am now. That’s not a trade I’m willing to make. Most importantly, the basketball team is special because the school is special. Not the other way around.

Postnote: What a difference a couple months makes. Since writing this, the Bobcats ripped off a legendary run, winning the MAC title and beating Georgetown in the first round of the NCAA tournament. The uncertainty that surrounded the program has been replaced with promise and excitement. It remains to be seen if the program has truly turned a new corner or if it's just the past repeating itself, but optimism prevails for now.

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1 Slight ego bruise on that. It's not as though I write by trade or anything.

2 The “proper” way to refer to Ohio University is Ohio, not Ohio U, Ohio University, or OU. Some alumni really get upset when you say Ohio U. Why? I’ve yet to hear a good reason.

3 I believed then that being from Ohio meant you had to root for any team with “Ohio” in the name. I was a big fan of Jimmy Jackson back in the day and remember being particularly dismayed when the Buckeyes lost to Michigan in the 1992 regional finals. I don't really remember the game, just that I was upset at the result.

4 How? I was a Cavs fan when I was little. Michael Jordan, as you may have heard, routinely killed the Cavs. So I hated MJ. Consequentially, I hated North Carolina. When Randolph Childress crossed over Jeff McInnis in the 1995 ACC final, and I was introduced to a young Tim Duncan, I had a new team.

5 My original top choice was Syracuse. But, I really did not want to go one of the few areas in the country snowier than Northeast Ohio.

6 Before much-needed renovations, the place was a dump. There were pillars that blocked the view of unfortunate people in the second level. Reminded me of old Cleveland Municipal Stadium.

7 They lost to- who else?- Indiana in the regional finals.

8 I was vaguely aware Ohio and Kent were in the same conference. Remember, I was a Wake Forest fan at the time.

9 I recently saw Utah State do this on Pixelvision (the game I was doing for NPD, incidentally). I didn’t know what to think.

10 Seriously. The MAC has schools in the Buffalo, Cleveland, Cincinnati, and Detroit areas. All we need is Seattle.

11 I made the last-minute decision to make the four hour drive to Cleveland after my last class of the week, getting to the arena just before the game.

12 Both times, the comeback started when I angrily declared the game a blowout.

13 Wearing face paint and a big green wig earns the appreciation of middle-aged men, but not too many women.

14 And the time referee Mike Roberts ejected me from a game, the most embarrassing moment of my life. The one time I brought a girl to a game…

15 www.macreportonline and @macreportonline on Twitter!

Our Economy's Based on LeBron James

2010-04-01T10:25:00.001-04:00

NPR had a bit this morning about a recommendation that Cleveland's police department add a Missing Persons Division. The following exchange ensued:

Me: Shouldn't they already have one of those?

Steve: Well, they usually just go looking in the Flats¹ and find the people there.

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1You'll likely only get this if you're from Cleveland. Sorry.

Round and Round We Go

2010-03-27T02:50:00.001-04:00

I'm doing it again: I'm thinking of you. Now, I'm probably the sucker because I didn't see this coming. I likely should have as soon as you told me the news you had. But here we are again. This isn't entirely unexpected; I predicted as much a couple months ago, didn't I? I told you we weren't done, that we were going to come around to each other again¹. You didn't disagree then.

I'm not saying we're doing that now, but... we will, won't we? Any time we are in close proximity to one another, it happens. I expect the same to happen when we're near each other again.

Part of me sighs. Part of me is worried. Part of me is excited and can't wait.

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1 Just like the last couple times.

This Covers It

2010-03-14T10:36:00.002-04:00

This sums up my feelings wonderfully. From Censored 2010: The Top 25 Censored Stories of 2008-09:

"Corporate news is a dying system. It has helped make itself irrelevant with it insatiable appetite for the inane, a strong reliance on commercialism, and an inability to inform the public on crucial matters of out time. What passes for news on the 24/7 cable broadcasts is more like a gossip rag or screed sheet, a veritable three-ring circus sideshow of spectacle and distraction. Even print media have succumbed to this inevitable purging, exchanging substance for style, fact for opinion, news for propaganda. On the key issues of the past several years, from election fraud and matters of torture to leaving single-payer health care and impeachment off the table of public discourse, corporate media have failed America."

Minus One

2010-03-12T16:01:00.000-05:00

My sister is engaged.

This is not breaking news. It happened in December, not long after my parents and I ended our visit to Disney World. Incidentally, it was less than a month after I met her fiance for the first time. I was at my parents' house when the news came in. My mother was thrilled, my father and I less so. Why?

I often joked that Ashley, 3 ½ years my younger, would marry before me. Women tend to marry younger than men, she was in a relationship the lion's share of the time (I have been single for the great majority of my hormonal life), and it was an easy bit of self-deprecating humor. That he proposed was no surprise; we had expected it even if we didn't know exactly when.

Still, knowing it is coming does not prepare you for when it actually happens. He seems like a decent enough guy¹, but that's not really the point. When a female sibling gets married, it's like she's leaving the family². Is that fair? Probably not, but I don't write the scenario. If she reads this, she'll insist that's not the case and she'll mean it. But it won't change anything³.

It's hard for me, and not just because I'm a little afraid people are going to start bothering me about when I get married⁴. Even when I wasn't on speaking terms with my parents, I was still in contact with her. Along the same lines, my relationship with her has never been rocky like it has been with my parents. She's still the one I care about the most from my childhood home by a wide margin. And I feel like she's being taken away from me.

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1 I barely know him. This is what I say when people ask me about him.

2 If you've seen “Father of the Bride,” you have an idea what I'm talking about.

3 If I get married, will it feel like an addition to the family? Good question.

4 Not soon, if ever.

I Write the Words Good

2010-03-11T12:00:00.000-05:00

Today marks the first day of play of the MAC Tournament at Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland. It also marks the beginning of my second year covering the tournament from media row for MAC Report Online. I love it. It's so much fun. I get to watch basketball, I get to communicate with fans in realtime, I'm actually something of an authority on MAC basketball, and I get to see what a lot of the public doesn't. It's a blast, and the people at MRO are great.

It's a fun hobby. I'm glad I do it. But it just reminds me that it's not what my life is meant to be, even if I thought something along those lines at one time. I might do it again next year. We'll see. But I won't make a career of this.

Snark Sharks

2010-03-10T11:58:00.001-05:00

More and more recently, I've become aware of the generation gap between mine and those older than me. It seems to be a bit easier to see the differences between me and those younger, but I find the differences between me and those older more striking¹. One thing I find interesting is when differences are pointed out, it usually comes across as criticism. Not necessarily destructive criticism, but criticism nonetheless.

If you were not able to see Conan O'Brien's farewell speech on “The Tonight Show,” take a moment to watch it now, specifically his remarks at the 3:40 mark. I bring this up for a reason. I am a pretty cynical person despite an optimistic and idealist side² that is often fighting to burst through. My Twitter page bio openly uses the word “snarky” to describe myself. One of my favorite shows is “InfoMania,” a show described by a magazine as “'The Daily Show's' smartass younger brother³.” I was visiting my parents one time and watching “InfoMania” and my father watched some of it. After a few minutes, he turned to me and asked, “Don't you ever get tired of being snarky?”

I think my response at the time was along the lines of “no.” I've since thought about it more, and my answer is this: What else do you expect?

For the first time in human history, we have been commodified and marketed to from birth. We exist to consume and spend in the corporate world's eyes. We were raised not on values, but on products, food, and items. When you're constantly being sold something for your entire life, you learn not to trust. We look at the 60s and 70s, and we don't want to violently revolt. We saw what that brought, and we don't want to go there. Besides, when you're constantly being marketed to, you are going to buy things⁴. It's unavoidable. We start making a ruckus, and we might lose some of those nifty gadgets. Who wants that?

Make no mistake: Some (many) people completely buy into this. They are caught at a young age, they like the life, they don't think it's worth it to fight, etc. Others don't accept what is trying to be foisted upon us, but the deck is stacked in their favor. We can't trust the government to help⁵, we see corporations doing whatever they want, we see many good things being sacrificed to the corporate cause (colleges, good domestic jobs, etc.). We get taken advantage of.

What can we do? Not much. There aren't enough of us, really, to change things. We do what we can, but it feels like throwing rice against a brick wall. We know how it's going to turn out⁶. So we turn to cynicism. We turn to cutting sarcasm. It's less an offensive tool than a defense mechanism. It's a way to stay sane. We choose to laugh instead of getting angry. Would getting angry help the cause? Perhaps, but again, we don't want to repeat the ugly events of the past.

In our own way, snark is gallows humor. Remember this when I make cynical riffs on Obama.

So why are we snarky? Frankly, it's a product of the world we were placed into. In other words, you did this to us. Conan doesn't like cynicism? Few people do. I know I don't enjoy it, but it's a trusted ally in a world sorely lacking them. But Conan has had success and riches beyond his wildest dreams. He lives in a fantasy world. We live in the real world, and we see the ugliness of it. He doesn't. It's easy to not be cynical when you have so little to be cynical about⁷.

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1 Then again, how important can the younger crowd yet be?

2 My cynical side might point out it wouldn't exist if not for the idealist, optimistic side.

3 I liken it more as a cross between “Daily,” “The Soup,” and “Tosh.0.”

4 Or you're going to live in a van.

5 Both parties- BOTH- are so obviously on the take it's sickening.

6 Yes, I may have read 1984 one too many times.

7 He could have been cynical about losing his show, perhaps, but he walked into a huge buyout as a result. Not much to quibble with.

Lupine Appetite

2010-03-09T14:44:00.000-05:00

Have you ever really, really wanted to kiss someone? So bad it felt like hunger? So bad it was as necessary as oxygen? And when you did get that kiss, it filled a primal need? When you get to that stage with somebody, you really have something.

I've been there once. It was nice.

Staring Into the Eyes of Evil

2010-03-08T02:38:00.002-05:00

I was talking to class a couple weeks ago¹ with my usual strategy of looking at the ground. I noticed someone in my peripheral vision about to run into me. Reflexively, I look to see who is about to crash into me and judge whatever defensive maneuvers I need to make. I find myself staring into the eyes of her², six inches away.

Time freezes for a moment. The last person I want to see and at a distance I never wanted to be within. My eyes narrow slightly. Hers widen. I am deathly afraid she is going to say something, and I think she is afraid I might say something.

Then, my brain shouts, “MOVE!” My feet begin moving. I don't look back. No words are exchanged. No real acknowledgment shared. As it must be.
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1 As per Al Gore's demands to fight global warming.

2 If you're unclear who this is, backtrack in the blog or follow the “Misadventures in Romance” label.

The Sweet Sorrow

2010-02-22T23:33:00.002-05:00

I was listening to the "Wall-E" director commentary the other day. Andrew Stanton was talking about how two people holding hands in public is a big sign of intimacy and comfort. Funnily enough, I had never thought about that. I had thought about holding hands itself, just not in public. Stanton makes sense; one time I was in public with a girl and she held my hand and I wasn't cool with it. I didn't realize why until later: I wasn't really into her.

What I have thought about are three simple words: I miss you. Oh, thought I was going somewhere else with that, weren't you? Take a moment and think about it. It might be something we over look, but that's a powerful feeling, actively feeling less because of the absence of another. To tell that person as much is a very intimate thing. To have it reciprocated? That's very powerful. The first time someone special said that to you, it had a punch, didn't it? I bet it did.

Next time someone says that to me, I'm going to appreciate what's behind those words.

Wonder Years

2010-01-29T01:16:00.002-05:00

When I get together with the maternal side of the family, I usually end up playing with my second cousins. The oldest of the four is 10. It's fun, and it certainly beats the banality of conversing with the adults. They are not exciting people.

At the family Christmas, I was goofing around with them when Travis turned to me.

"How old are you?"

"How old do you think I am?"

"I don't know... 13?"

You know, I think it's a compliment, deep down. If real kids think of you as a kid, you're probably doing something right.

Who Are You, Again?

2010-01-28T04:07:00.003-05:00

A consequence of the Internet is that things you put on it will probably exist forever.

Case in point: My first blog. It was amusing/horrifying to go back and read me from several years ago. Incidentally, the last real entry was about Dan Lowe.

Why Hasn't This Caught on in America?

2010-01-21T16:56:00.003-05:00

I've been watching the Australian Open this week on ESPN 360. On Monday, I opened the window and on the right it has a list of the events being broadcasted. It was all tennis... except for one. Cricket. India vs Bangladesh. No love lost there, right? I think, hey, let's check out some cricket. Maybe I'll see a wicked googly. So I click on it.

I'm greeted by the sight of an empty field with this graphic dominating the screen:

CHITTAGONG, 1ST TEST

TEA HAS BEEN TAKEN

LIGHT PERMITTING PLAY WILL RESUME AFTER TEA HAS BEEN TAKEN

Awesome. Can you imagine that? USA vs Spain, gold medal game in basketball. Halfway through the third quarter, they stop and all have a drink together. Kind of hard to take the game too seriously when that happens, right? Maybe we should try this in the SEC.

Point is, I have no idea what "Chittagong, 1st test" means.

Word to the Wise

2009-10-19T00:49:00.002-04:00

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

2009-10-05T03:08:00.004-04:00

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

2009-08-25T21:22:00.002-04:00

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?

2009-08-19T12:07:00.000-04:00

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

2009-08-18T11:46:00.000-04:00

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...

2009-08-17T18:28:00.001-04:00

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

2009-08-17T09:35:00.000-04:00

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

2009-08-16T11:30:00.001-04:00

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

2009-08-15T20:20:00.000-04:00

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

2009-08-14T12:15:00.000-04:00

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

2009-08-13T15:52:00.000-04:00

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

2009-08-11T19:42:00.000-04:00

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

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

The Man Across the Net

2009-08-10T13:29:00.000-04:00

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

2009-08-09T17:24:00.003-04:00

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

2009-07-25T15:41:00.000-04:00

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

2009-07-24T14:12:00.000-04:00

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

2009-07-23T12:00:00.000-04:00

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

2009-07-22T01:11:00.002-04:00

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

2009-06-15T11:37:00.000-04:00

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

2009-06-13T16:19:00.000-04:00

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...

2009-06-12T22:25:00.002-04:00

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

2009-05-27T14:28:00.000-04:00

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

2009-05-26T07:20:00.002-04:00

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

2009-05-09T00:19:00.002-04:00

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

2009-05-05T00:45:00.002-04:00

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?

2009-04-10T18:11:00.002-04:00

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 question^¹: 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 it^².

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 leagues^³. 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 that^⁴, 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 football^⁵, 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

2009-04-10T16:23:00.000-04:00

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

2009-04-09T14:34:00.001-04:00

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 clean^¹, 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 men^² 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 situation^³, 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

2009-04-08T18:28:00.001-04:00

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 friend^¹, 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 Athens^², 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 pound^³. 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 time^⁴.

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 Lucy^⁵.

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 eyes^⁶.

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 me^⁷, 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

2009-04-07T11:11:00.000-04:00

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

2009-04-07T01:06:00.002-04:00

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

2009-04-01T17:43:00.000-04:00

Anyone who knows me at least a little knows I spend the vast majority of my time single. And, once upon a time^¹, 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 do^².

When you're in a relationship, the primary price you pay is your freedom^³. 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 see^⁴.

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 them^⁵, which means I have to start putting other things around it. It's annoying, but I feel like I have to at least try^⁶. 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

2009-03-31T20:15:00.001-04:00

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" relationship^¹- 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.

Yeah, That Sounds Nice

2009-03-30T23:08:00.002-04:00

I'm currently reading The Broom of the System by
David Foster Wallace (who else?). I had never ventured into DFW's fiction before, but at LaWell's prodding and providing of books, I am doing so. While I'm still in the nascent stages of the book and his fiction writing in general, I am enjoying it thoroughly, even if I still like his essays better. Aw well. Either way, I wanted to post this excerpt.

"I admit it, it is what I do, I am a kisser, and a kiss with Lenore is, if I may indulge a bit for a moment here, not so much a kiss as it is a dislocation, a removal and rude transportation of essence from self to lip, so that it is not so much two human bodies coming together and doing the usual things with their lips as it is two sets of lips spawned together and joined in kind from the beginning of post-Scarsdale time, achieving full ontological status only in subsequent union and trailing behind and below them, as the join and become whole, two now utterly superfluous fleshly bodies, drooping outward and downward from the kiss like the tired stems of overblossomed flora, trailing shoes on the ground, husks. A kiss with Lenore is a scenario in which I skate with buttered sloes over the moist rink of lower lip, sheltered from weathers by the wet warm overhang of upper, finally to crawl between lip and gum and pull the lip to me like a child's blanket and stare over it with beady, unfriendly eyes out at the world external to Lenore, of which I not longer wish to be part."

OK. So, I don't know if you noticed, but that whole thing was only two sentences. Also, wow. I don't know if anyone has actually experienced anything like that, but it sounds pretty incredible, no?

Seriously, the genius of this man almost hurts. In telling people about DFW, I say he was so brilliant, it tortured him. In reading him, I wish I could even approach a glimmer of his talent. The other part of me knows it couldn't handle that burden.

Not Cursing the Snow

2009-02-23T23:12:00.000-05:00

The snow storms we had a while back reminded me of something: How much I hate snow. But a coworker mentioned something that made me think of you¹.

I remember when we would get a foot or so and the ground would be covered in pure, untouched snow. I think that was your favorite thing in the world. You couldn't wait to get out there. Normally, when you were outside, you needed something to do² if you weren't just laying down. But in the snow? Oh, man, you went nuts. You would leap around, duck your head in it, throw it around. You would run and run and run and play until you couldn't move anymore... and then you did it some more. When you came in, you didn't even bother getting the snow off of you. You just let itstay there, as if you didn't want it to leave.

Remembering that, I guess the snow wasn't so bad after all.

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1 You know, other than whenever I look at my phone.

2 Frisbee or tennis ball, which you would demand to be thrown forever, not seeming to care how much freaking slobber you put on it.