Click images for desktop size: "Gas" by Edward Hopper I got stung by a hornet last night. They made a nest in the mailbox.
It hurt but no real after effects. I'm still pretty non-allergenic, I guess.
One of my kids got released from his NFL team yesterday. I feel badly for him.
He's one of my kids who I always had the hedging feeling that I failed. Not athletically. He did a great job there. This is his first failure.
Failing doesn't mean much when you expend no effort. Its another thing to fail when you've given it everything, when you've created the dream and then done everything physically possible to attain the dream. Its when you don't add in the mental toughness that I get worried.
He's a man now. This would have been his fourth NFL season.
People always ask about what I mean when I say that turning a young person into a stud athlete isn't my job.
When I was eleven years old my friend Tom and I were great Little League ball players and we dominated Pop Warner.
Baseball was the love of my life. Our coach was the father of our pitcher. I found out years later that the coach had been in the major leagues. He never had an at bat but he tore up Triple A ball and kept getting called up but never seemed to have gotten a real shot.
He and his wife were divorced. The time he spent with his son was as our coach.
He seldom came to our practices. That was fine, we just played pick up games. He gave me one coaching tip in 3 years. It was a good one about how to shade a batter with runners on; how to read the batter to see if he's trying to hit behind the runner or hit away. It took him about 14 seconds. He was drunk. He usually was. That tip stayed with me forever. It was invaluable.
I wondered if Bill Lancaster played ball in our league. He once had a mad crush on a friend of mine. She was gay so it was pretty unrequited. I never got to ask him. Bill wrote "The Bad News Bears". Walter Matthau played a drunk little league manager.
During games our coach would sit in the dugout next to his cooler. He drank about a beer an inning. He was pretty ripped by the 7th. We turned in the line up cards at all the games.
During games he muttered a lot but never really talked to any of us. I don't know if he even knew what the score was.
Thing is we won our league 4 times. We advanced into the World Series sectionals twice.
As kids we didn't care much about things other than playing and winning but as an adult I always figured that people always congratulated our coach and told him he was doing a great job. Maybe he was. Maybe a bunch of poorer kids playing in a rich guys league needed that kind of coach. I can't reflect that properly.
By the time I was getting recruited by colleges I was a superb athlete. A true stud. I was also a pretty poor substitute for a human being. I was arrogant, close enough to sociopathic to at least
Click images for desktop size: "Anime" by Fleya consider that as a job description. My only contact with any shred of humanity was via my unbridled affection for dogs.
It was my running backs coach at SC who took the time to be more concerned about me as a human being than as a stats machine. I mean he took time.
We were pretty successful then too.
But that is the kind of coach I wanted to be. It was hard, much harder for me than just learning the drills and to watch a young person and see if there was an athlete in there. Its harder to see the person inside the body.
Anybody can teach you to run faster. But it takes someone special to give you a reason to want to run faster.
Its about building self respect, self esteem and teaching the young people entrusted to you that they have a value to society and to the world and that that value carries with it responsibilities.
Somehow in my tiny brain greater talent and value carried with it even greater responsibility. Responsibility to your teammates, to your family, to the neighborhood, to the kids watching you play and foremost a responsibility to yourself.
A responsibility to uphold those things that make you what you are; that make you proud of yourself on and off the field. And when things look bad because you hold to those believes you can rely on your teammates, your family and your neighborhood to trust in the kind of man you are and support you and stand with with. And, of course you can always rely on your coach.
If I had learned that simple minded stuff when I was eleven I know I would have been a better player and a happier human being.
I would have been less sociopathic. I'd probably still be as arrogant as I am today.
Comes with the territory I guess.

Posted by David at 11:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Zach" by R Latterll The cat passed away last night at 7:25.
Earlier in the day I had her outside resting in the sun while I mowed the grass. She enjoyed it. She preened in the sunlight and stretched herself in the warmth.
The dogs were pretty peeved by this. The cat was on their favorite perch and they always get locked in when I have the lawnmower running. (My puppy watches me intently from the window, the giant dog gets up on his back feet and looks through the door window).
When I bought the cat back inside I was confused. She seemed tired but content. She purred loudly and slept comfortably.
I took her outside again for the second half of the mowing. She didn't object but didn't seem to enjoy it. She lie there pretty unresponsive. I always checked on her every few minutes. I bought her back inside when I saw that there were flies on her and she was doing nothing about it.
She took some water by hand, twitched her tail and seemed to fall asleep.
About 7 PM she lost control of her bowels. She meowed in complaint when I cleaned her up but was happy to lie back down on clean towels and cushion.
A little bit later I got a brief phone call. As I hung up the cat made a deep groan like meow. I sat on the floor beside her. She trembled for a short second and then she was gone.
I gave her some mild CPR. I waited a few minutes until I was convinced she was truly gone.
I emailed my friend to tell her. Then felt that was callous so I called her office. (She was still working on her dead line, she was until 3 AM) I told her the sad news.
Because I like almost all animals in general (except cows and bugs) I'm saddened by the cat's dying. I'm more worried about my friend.
This is the second loved one she's lost in less than two months. That's a harshness; a cruelty.
My little blind dog's presence still hangs heavily over us. Its hard to accept that he's gone. (And though he was clearly my little dog it was my friend who raised him and tended him and loved him, even if she didn't know that she was holding him for me, she felt that the little dog was hers.)
The cat loved my little blind dog. She would always work her way to get next to him. He was never too impressed with that. He'd always wake up startled to find a cat cuddled up next to him!
My puppy always gave the little guy a hard time about that. Called him a "cat lover". He always vehemently denied it.
I buried the cat by one of the little dogs favorite trails, one he would drag me through all the time.

Yesterday was busy for me in other ways.
As I mentioned I mowed the gas. It was in bad shape. We couldn't afford gas for the lawnmower so it was overgrown badly. There's over a quarter acre of grass to cut with a push mower so it gets tiring for me.
Click images for desktop size: "Untitled" by HK Pepnix The dogs loved it cut and played outside most of the day. When they'd come inside to check on me their muzzles were coated with green grass mush.
I called every secondary school around here. There was no one rude to me but not much interest in an unpaid assistant. I've encountered that before. Its that goony thing where people feel someone unpaid who does a good job will dilute their standing and pay scale. Maybe they're right. I've never coached in high school for money so I don't know the politics. I'm sure they're politics. There always are.
Its a good thing the game is so beautiful.
I got an email from a good friend. He was congratulating me for things that really have little to do with me.
Four athletes I've met are going to the Olympics. I think my coaching tips to them were of my usual class ("Run faster!" being my favorite.) And I have over a dozen kids who've played don my teams in NFL camps.
All these athletes are there because of their efforts. I'm excited and pleased that they allowed me to stand on the sidelines to watch these kids develop from boys and girls to fine men and women.
Of course I'll be watching for them. I'll be cheering for them.
Some of the kids in the NFL camps worry me. Most of them I know are of the caliber to deal with all of the nonsense, but a couple of them . . .
I'm just an old man afraid to let go, I think. They'll be fine. I just wish they all make the team.

Posted by David at 12:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Green" by Bryan Loper I didn't go out and look for work yesterday. My friend woke up ill and stayed in. It was a good excuse to stay home and play inept nurse.
We're both losing weight. I've no idea if that's a good or a bad thing. Probably good for me and not so good for her.
Although it was probably a good idea that I didn't go out looking for work yesterday. I mowed the lawn here. I had to do a rather poor job in order to save gas in the mower. Even that, 2 hours of pushing a lawnmower nearly killed me.
Sweat in the eye, ginchy grabbing pains sort of killing me, not the real deal killing me.
There was a brief but violent thunderstorm this morning. I'm hoping that it might have scared off some workers and I can go hit around the few construction sites and maybe pick something up.
My head still fills like its loaded with concrete but they won't be interested in whether I can think or not.
One thing about today. I woke up wanting to be part of the community. Yesterday there was a power outage. It bounced pretty hard and screwed up the network (as usual). I went out on the street and spoke to some of the neighbors who were out. Any kind of disaster and everyone runs outside. When I was a kid I used to run out in the street during earthquakes because I was convinced dinosaurs and lava would come springing out of the newly opened crevasses.
I was always disappointed. Although I did get to see a brick chimney collapse once. Cool but not as cool as a red hot dinosaur springing out of the ground ready to commit mayhem. I was certain that the ravenous dinosaur and I would be fast friends and he and I would go reek a horrible vengeance against the adults of the world.
But I woke up today wanting to be a part of the community again. That's a good thing. I tempers my stoic cynicism. I thought about coaching football. The schools around here aren't much for the sport. When I called when I first got here
Click images for desktop size: "Giant Panda" by Unknown they were more than a bit astonished that I was interested in seeing a game, let alone volunteer coach.
There's plenty of demand for Pop Warner coaches. I'm not sure if I have the physical strength and endurance to deal with the little ones. They take a lot more care and hands on demonstrations. They are amusing though.
Where my strengths in coaching lie are in turning kids into athletes. I tend to do it with mind numbing repetition. Like the stick foot move. It where you have to an abrupt change of direction to make a tackle or throw a block. Its a simple thing in theory. You stamp the ground with your foot and let momentum swerve you while you continue to run and pursue.
In practice its not so easy. The point is to do it so often that it becomes reflex. A player can't think on the field about anything but his assignment and the situation. If he has to take the micro second to consider the correct way to make a move even a guy with 5.0 speed will be one and a half steps past him and then further adjustments are needed. It doesn't work unless its just done automatically.
And with endless repetition the body gets so tired that it starts to do these things properly, without exaggeration or thought. It works. I've had enough players progress to higher levels to know that.
With little ones the main idea is to make sure they don't hurt themselves and that they play well enough to have fun. After that I worry about fine tuning the athlete and after that I worry about getting them to play as a unit and then, if there's time I worry about winning.
I've sort of given up on playing even softball. The arm can't take it. I've no zip on the ball and my accuracy decreases expoentially to the amount of zip I put on it. Maybe this weekend we can go watch a softball game and I can see how ept or inept the competition is.
No I have to go to work, or at least beg for it.

Posted by David at 9:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Daft End Direkt" by J3 Designs Once one of my players asked me what made me special enough to play big time college football. I said, "Speed and rage." Which sounded as glib then as it does now.
It was early in my coaching career. I got better.
Even though its a glib answer its accurate. Speed is natural. But any speed result can be improved until you max it. I ran a 4.5 40. It was my consistent max. That's quick still, but in an age when DB's and WR's are clocking in 4.3's and it takes a 4.2 to make the scouts notice 4.5 doesn't seem like much.
Speed is natural but the rage . . .
My buddy Tom was a victim of rage. He got banned from the Pac 10 for being "incorrigible" at 20 years old, all because of rage.
Rage is consuming and letting it take over your life is a hardship. It hurts and clouds; destroys whatever good might be able to soak through it.
I was lucky. I was running the stadium steps. It was my normal punishment, usually for getting aggressive with a team mate during practice. My coach took the time to talk to me. He took the time to change me and remove the rage. It took about a year but I saw the game differently after that. It was no longer kill or be a target. It became fun. I became what the British call a "useful player". Good enough to belong on the field, occasionally I'd make a big play and I was enough of a concern for defenses that the stars could make the really big plays.
As a frothing hate filled maniac I was a better football player. My coach was kind enough to sacrifice that to see me become a better man. At least that's what I took from it.
I was suffering then. Fearful and dangerous in the way a perfectly fit and strong kid can be dangerous when fueled by a fear that step fathers and previous coaches had fueled.
It took my coach to see it and act on it. I was suffering. For whatever reason Americans pride themselves on suffering in silence.
Jim Bouton mentioned it inadequately that
Click images for desktop size: "Donna Troy - Wonder Woman" by DC Comics the greatest compliment a guy can get is, "He wouldn't say shit if he had a mouthful."
I suffer now, physically though and not mentally. Physical suffering is easier in a lot of ways.
In all the ways I've grown since being the enraged destructive force I've never gotten past the bad habit of ignoring pain and suffering quietly. I have a huge pain threshold, I know that, but even when the pain gets pretty consuming I still find myself telling the doctors, "Its not too bad."
Even when I see the effect that it has on others. See, when I suffer I go through that complicated process starting with self pity. Is there any more despicable trait then self pity? But I touch it and wonder, "Why me? Why do I have to hurt like this? Why can't I ever feel a moment's peace?"
When I feel that I get self recriminating, another bad habit. I remind myself that "men" don't feel self pity. "Men" just destroy the obstacles. I guess that works when your a salty kid but it seems sort of immature for an adult.
Dealing with the pain and all the rest of the baggage I've attached to the pain gets me short tempered and unforgiving. I haven't felt the black clouds of rage for a few years but I suspect that people outside of myself would have a hard time telling the difference.
As I get weaker and sicker its harder for me to accept the weakness. To say "I hurt," and to expect understanding. I've a life time of knowing that people like it when you share your feelings, so long as its the good feelings, the bad ones they'd rather you kept to yourself.
I have to stop with my double standards; holding myself to a higher standard that I would hold others.

I started throwing a softball yesterday. Yeah, I've gotten to that age where I'm thinking of playing slow pitch softball. I still have enough ego to only want to play if I can contribute.
I've got a softball. I threw it against a tree 60 feet away fifty times. I hit the tree within 2 inches of where I was aiming 96% of the time. That was with no zip on it, more than a lob but not whipping it in there. I noticed my arm was dropping down to 3/4 sidearm. Normally I'd put that down to tiredness. In this case it seemed to increase my accuracy and reduce the pain.
I'm going to continue throwing it against that tree for a while. I'll add 5 feet to it until I get to 120 feet.
Click images for desktop size: "Dream State" by Unknown I've got enough yard for that. Then I'll got to a nearby ball field and throw against the back stop. If I can get the ball with some reasonable speed at 200 feet about 100 times I'll be able to play short or even some fill in outfield.
I'm looking for some batting cages in the area. I've always had a left eye dominance (and I'm a goofy foot). With the issues with my eyes I don't know if that will be enough. I used to be able to pick up 90 mph fastballs leaving the pitcher's hand now I'm not certain I'll be able to pick up a softball until its too late. I know I've got enough bat speed to drive the ball if it gets in my wheelhouse but I'm not sure I can pick the ball up soon enough to move it to the house.
The best part of throwing a ball against the tree is watching the dogs chase it down. Every throw then becomes a quick sprint. They like to catch the ball but then they demand to be chased for their efforts! My puppy even crawled under the car to get the ball! Then the giant dog crawled under the car, I guess just to see if he'd fit.
When my puppy got tired of me yelling at her to bring the ball back she'd jut go run after the ball and stand over it, marking its location for me like a good golf caddy.
I played a game of lob/catch with my friend. Only about 15 minutes. We stood about 15 feet apart . . . It wore me out to the point of collapsing the moment I sat down. I'll have to work on endurance. I can't remember if softball lasts 7 or 9 innings. So I'll train for 18 innings to be safe.

I managed not to delete all the comments! This was cool because some fellow named John Muir (I wonder if he's related to the Muir who discovered Yosemite? Yosemite is still in the top 3 of most beautiful places on the planet). His comment had a link to a comparison of Obama and McCain. He directed me to the stuff about net neutrality. Obama said all the right words. McCain's comment was inane. "They own the pipe. They're entitled to make a profit."
In his mind it would be cool for him to pay your ISP a few thousand bucks and have them block all of Obama's sites and speed up access to his site. That's free enterprise according to the sick twisted and lame.
I guess if you don't like your ISP doing that to you you can always switch services, oh wait,
Click images for desktop size: "Everyone Dreams" by Unknown since most ISP's have monopolies you can't . . .
(Can we accept that the internet has become a necessity as much as a telephone?)
Nowhere did I ever notice McCain making a statement about the rights of people.
I was also stunned to see that McCain claims a net worth of 40 million dollars. What kind of slime has 40 million bucks but still is weasley enough to take a disability pension that clearly doesn't prevent him from working. I was equally shocked when it came out that Tipper O'Neal was taking a 700 buck Social Security payment when he was the Democratic Speaker of the House! It looks like I'll be voting for Obama. He keeps saying mostly the right things even though I strongly disagree with his take on immigration and US seclusion.

Posted by David at 10:42 AM | Permalink

Click images for desktop size: "Abandonded Mansion" by Raven 88 He Wrote "Born To Be Wild" for John Kay and Steppenwolf and created the phrase, "Heavy Metal". He had a really mediocre solo album and now he's forgotten.
I think of what it must be like to meet him at a party. Does he walk up to you and introduce himself as the man who created heavy metal? I would. It would be cool to watch people shuffle their feet while trying not to look at you.
Since he copyrighted the song does he get a tiny piece of money every time anyone uses his words?
If he doesn't, is he warped and bitter about it? Does he support the RAIA?
Has he found happiness now? Does he look out of his window and consider that a billion bikers and wannabe bikers are standing in their showers, their fantasies and their lives played out to his soundtrack?
Does his wife think he's a genius? Does she tell all her friends that he is?
Sometimes I feel like Mars Bonfire . . .

I didn't realize how wrecked I was yesterday until I read what I wrote.
All I wrote were intro's and then I left out the story . . .
I don't even know if the stories were any good. Maybe that's why I omitted them.
That doesn't mean anyone should be spared.
Like the whole fixation on bowels was in memory of a nurse. I'd just started my first chemo, the really nasty one where my hair fell out and I was considering that death was better than this.
There was this plump cheeked blonde blue eyed nurse, who shimmered in self contained pleasure.
We all hated her.
We hated her even more than we hated the missionary nurse who found time to testify to us individually at least twice during our stay. "Have you been washed in the blood," was the sardonic greeting the adults used in sardonic detestment of her.

Click images for desktop size: "A Silhouette Of War" by Scooch We hated the blonde all the more because on first sight you could see her with a pleasant carnal interest. She was young, pretty and had a face that knew no deeper tragedy than Bergdorf Goodman not increasing her credit limit at Christmas.
She wore a starched white nurses outfit. She was the only one who did. She wore it tight to accent her curves. And every morning she'd walk in and say in a clear bright chipper voice that was singed by the harshest most nasal twangy Sydney accent you ever heard and say, "How are we this morning? Did we have a good BM?"
And every evening before she went home and did whatever she did she'd stop in and say in that same voice that grated and jangled our exposed electric nerves, "Have a good night. I hope you have a good bowel movement!"
We hated her just short of plotting her death.
Someone once speculated that maybe she thought we were in there for chronic constipation.
Usually when you go into remission, or at least finish the course you look back at your caregivers with a trace of fondness or at least vague gratitude. Not her.
I've met some of my former comrades and we'd even been able to look at the Evangelical nurse with a trace of wry humor. The sexy blonde Aussie with the clear eye and smooth skin and the grating voice we'll all hate forever.
Is that justice or even close to fair?
Of course not, but none of us care.

And after that wonderful scatological reverie I was going to move on to my toe nail clipping and how that reminded me that I have the ugliest feet in the world.
I do. It has been attested to.
There are probably a lot of similes to be drawn between my feet and my soul. I do not attest to these.
I think most of my problem with my feet stems from the fact that I use them . . . I mean I've had countless turf toes, stepped on plenty of spiny urchins and a few jelly fish.
Once I played a pick up game of football in Regents Park wearing a pair of boots. But I blame most of the damage on rock climbing.
I always had extreme climbers for partners and extreme climbers demand extreme footwear. I was always the dumb one but smart enough to do as I was told.
The popular shoes back then were RD's and PA's (or maybe some inversion of those initials, its been a long time since I checked out climbing shoes).

Click images for desktop size: "Cartoon Girl" by Unknown Both shoes had their adherents. What they had in common was lightness. They felt like ballet slippers in your hand.
They had a very light special construction type rubber that extended up the heel slightly and far over the toes.
The rubber was to give sure grip on rock. The extensions up the toe were to give a solid fit when jamming your foot into cracks, or balancing on tiny little knobs (which is one of my more vivid rock climbing memories.)
But the problem is that the shoe sort of funneled your foot (meaning your toes mainly) into a nice tiny point. Not unlike the ancient cruel art of foot binding in Japan. Of course this isn't cruel. We did it to ourselves.
My problems were the two or three mile hikes to the climbs wearing these shoes . . .
My point is that my freakishly ugly feet are the direct response to honorable wounds, if you will, and should not be scoffed at nor jeered at.
I wear shoes almost all the time anyway . . .

I have a new Blue Tooth Mighty Mouse I got for Christmas from my friend.
I'm still marveling at it. I think it works okay so far.
My friend returns from her first weekend away at training tonight. It will be good.

The play offs start this weekend. Wildcard Weekend, according to the hype.
The bowl games were so mixed this year that these games might actually be entertaining.
These games count in the on-line contest I'm in so you have to endure my picks.
I'm in 2,123 position after my less than scintillating 11-5 last weekend. I am still only 13 points out of first with no idea how I fare on any tie breakers . . .
My picks are in bold.

Washington at Seattle - Its tempting to take the Redskins for a few reasons. Journeyman QB replacing erratic Jason Campbell for one thing. That the Seahawks have looked like mushes in their last few games is another. While I wouldn't be surprised to see the Redskins win here, their history is against them. The Seahawks are more desperate. So the Redskins could win a tight one or the Seahawks could get Hasslebeck fired up and blow them out.

Jacksonville at Pittsburgh - This is pathetic. That the Jaguars have to travel to Pittsburgh as the wildcard team when they have a better record and have already thrashed the Steelers. Nothing has changed since their last meeting, except the Jags are more confident and the Steelers have looked even shakier.


Click images for desktop size: "Chimps' Face" by Faan New York Giants at Tampa Bay - This is the cruddy game of the week! Even if it is the playoffs. Eli Manning showed he can play when the game is meaningless against the Patriots last week. The Buc's have been stumbling around in a weak conference. This is a coin toss really. Both these teams have no business and are only fodder for next week. Taking the Bucs for home field advantage and Jeff Garcia.

Tennessee at San Diego - I don't think this game will be a blow out. The Titans D is looking way too sharp since Haynesworth's return. But the Titan's offense is kind of sporadic at best. I like Kerry Collins. He's a nice guy, but he doesn't replace Vince Young. If the Titans win behind Collins he should get a life time pass to the Grand Ol' Oprey from his home town. He's got a big hill to climb here. Too big I think.

These picks are not jokes even if they are intended for amusement only.
Who knows what I forgot to say today that I'll remember tomorrow . . .

Posted by David at 5:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Click images for desktop size: "Girl" by Unknown Once upon a time a friend called me. He coached at an American Military Base and he wanted a game against my kids. He wanted more than a scrimmage. He wanted the roughest team I could put together.
They had a QB being recruited by Brigham Young. He thought he had a chance at the European Military Championship.
I had a mixed team that year, one that would benefit from the experience.
Problem was we had a regular season game scheduled for the Sunday, the day after he wanted us to play.
Talked it over with the coaches and the kids. There was a big enough squad to cover it, so I accepted.
It was a good game. We got everybody into it.
We lost by less than a touchdown when their big QB pitched a 50 yard TD pass with 2 of my guys hanging from him.
It was impressive and regretful that he developed an attitude problem. He had the chance to be all world.
The next day I waited for the coach I rented to take us for our league game. Like the day before I'd rented a 60 seater.
Eleven kids showed up.
I was the only coach who showed up.
We went to the match, expecting to forfeit, but at least offering a scrimmage or some such.
They insisted we play. The ref's backed them up and showed me the rule that a squad of eleven made us legal.
Worse my kids wanted to play.
I was in a quandary. I'd have been cool with just getting on the bus and going home.
We played.
I caved in.
I coached like a son of a gun. Calling time outs, doing anything to get my kids through the game intact.
It was goofy iron man football. We played hard against the team that won the National Championship that year.
A lot of times I pulled kids off and went with only 9 or 10 players on the field.
Not surprisingly we lost by 2 points.

Click images for desktop size: "Green Lantern And Flash" by DC Comics What we won was a trust in ourselves and in each other.
My safety I discovered was a class running back and kicker. He went on to a DIv III school in the states and became a fireman.
My WR I learned was a shut down corner. He went on to become a Bio-Chemist.
And on and on. They have all become and remained life long friends.
For that the game was worth it.

I thought about that while I watched the Florida State - Kentucky game tonight. (FSU had 36 players suspended from the game in a cheating scandal).
I found myself hoping that those FSU players would take something like we experienced that long ago day, that what they did out there wasn't just a game but an experience that they would carry with them, that would let them grow and mature into even finer young men.
It doesn't seem right some how but its seems true: the greatest things we humans learn is always stoked in the fires of adversity. Its only there that we learn who we are and what we are capable of. Who we can trust and who we can love.
My puppy and I have had our share here recently.
I'd like to think we came through it safe and secure in ourselves and in our relationships.
The New Year is bringing another very mild set of stresses that will end up making life better.
I can cope with that.
I've played and coached enough to know that adversity does not mean being alone.

Posted by David at 11:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Click images for desktop size: "Baltimore Turtle" by Lou Hamilton I woke up Monday morning and couldn't see. My right eye looked like it was gazing through a crinkly panel of frosted glass.
Its gotten better. It got worse, then got some more drugs and it got better.
My mood was lifted when I got email from two of my kids (former players).
One of them, my Right Tackle, was nearly thrown out of school when he was 15 for being "uneducable". They wrote him off as an idiot. I knew he wasn't. He handled my insane blocking schemes with ease. I had a coach who was dyslexic. I went to the RT's school and argued. They tested him and the RT wasn't an idiot, he was dyslexic. He wrote that he, today, is starting his new job teaching computer science at a university level.
I also heard from my CB. He made himself a great player. Went to America and played Football and Baseball (which he likes more than cricket) while getting a degree in Poli-sci. He was raised in a North London Housing Estate. In the US we call them the projects. Its not a great place to start off from in life.
When he returned home he started work for the government in army recruiting! And now he's on the Town Council. (UK politics are strange to outsiders, really odd - if you don't get it that's cool and so is the job.)
And another of my kids continues in his quest to make it to the NFL. He's signed on the practice squad of the Buffalo Bills. That's cool.
I'm arrogant enough to want credit for the good things I might have done. There is nothing I did that contributed to these kids' success. They did the work, they always did. Straight-line - anyone succeeds you can always say they did the work.
All I did was to teach them how to play a game. I believe the game taught them most of what they try and give me the credit for.
The kids have their opinions and they are entitled to them. I take some pride in that they both mention a couple of cardinal points in my philosophy. First that every kid has a right to either succeed or fail. And that we each responsible for our own actions and for the actions of our teammates.
It means a lot to me to see people I know accomplish things that they once thought were impossible. When anyone is strong enough and cares enough to take a chance on a dream, on themselves it makes me happy.
I talk a lot of platitudes and they both quote some of them. I just found it interesting that these were the two they had in common.
Now I've had an exhausting weekend. My puppy played therapy dog at a new hospital. This was a lot different then our usual rip and run sessions, replete with tea parties and plays. This was a straight hospital situation.
She was wonderful, waiting for a signal from the patient before approaching, not shying from wheel chairs and keeping her head at a level for easy petting. She talked to them all too.
Saturday was my last pee wee football practice. Their season starts soon and the deal was that I wouldn't be a coach. It was good. The best part being that they're too small, or I'm too large, for them to carry me around the field on their shoulders. (Something every football player with dreams of doing: toting their coach around the field.)
Then there was volleyball practice. I seem to have given an odd picture as to what this is about. The guy running the program is the HC at the 1A school here. The kids aren't college students. He set up the clinic in "economically challenged" areas. The kids are 7 to 14. The plan is to get them involved with sports and pass on some fundamentals in the hope that they will pursue athletics in school.

Click images for desktop size: "Cosmic Petals" by Benuk The old "social inclusion via sports" gambit.
I believe in it.
It works.

Last Sunday I felt like giving up, but had to give my foster puppy a bath in order to take her to an "Adoptithon" . . . not my phrase for sure.
Wednesday more doc's and therapy dog playing with my puppy. A woman came over to meet my foster dog. The little foster dog was great but we haven't heard back so this Sunday the drag starts all over again as we go to another "adoptithon." The little girl needs a home.

Technorati Tags: dogs, football

Posted by David at 4:34 PM | Permalink

Click images for desktop size: "Electrofunk Lover" by Alex BankHad a white night last night.
Not certain why. The pain level was just enough to keep from falling completely asleep, I guess.
I thought of odd things. Deep memories, physical memories.
If they were of bad stuff I guess they'd be called traumas. They weren't bad. They were some of the things I don't keep in the fore front of my mind but they are high lights. I was rock climbing once and thought I was about to die. My life flashed in front of my eyes. These memories were in that flash. I recall them even last night as vivid and beautiful.
I have an IQ that tests pretty high, which just proves what a poor joke testing is. My memories are physical things, not words or dates but muscles and nerve memories.
It started with a time when I was about 12. I remember it because I had an old Zuma Jay's surfboard. A real clunker I could afford second hand from my paper route.
It was a big winter day. Malibu was packed solid even though the wave wasn't working from the third point to the pier. I pedaled down to Arroyo Secos where a nice hollow face was working.
The old clunker hung a rail and I got tumbled hard along a sandy bottom. The memory is beautiful to me. I was being held down under water, helpless, just dragged along the sea beds. I had no power and no control. Just about the time that I was starting to worry about my breathing the ocean spit me out, threw me up high enough to escape the foam and gulp in fresh air.
I thought this was proof that the ocean loved me.
That thought drifted over into thoughts about baseball. I miss playing a lot. A few days ago I picked up and ball and I was lobbing it at a chain link fence. There was no pain and I was hitting where I was throwing. I tried to make a real throw and the pain was intolerable, like electric irons had been clamped on my elbow while an electric storm ran from my shoulder to my fingertips.
I remembered one of my favorite plays. I was a junior in High School. I don't remember who we were playing but we were up 3-2 in the bottom of the ninth. They had the bases loaded with one away. The runners were off with the pitch. The batter did a bad sacrifice bunt that became a chopper up the middle. Our second baseman, Sammy scooped it up clean and tossed it to me at second. I caught it barehanded and was pivoting to throw to first when the runner barreled in on me. I let the ball go at the same time as the runners spikes caught me square on the right hip. It spun me around and knocked me down but I still looked up and saw Tommy, our 6'4 first baseman make a stretch and an easy catch for the double play.
What was cool was that I felt his spikes dig into me but I felt no pain. I concentrated on the throw the same as always.
When I got up his footprint was on my pants, and indentations where his spikes caught me but my pants weren't torn and neither was the skin.
I decided baseball loved me.
These things need to be in threes. A memory trilogy.

Click images for desktop size: "Snowboard" by Hero My senior year of high school. We were in the conference semi-finals. Our opponent had an All State Parade All American had middle line backer. For the first quarter he made my life miserable. He hit me hard and often and he hurt when he hit.
In the second quarter something happened. It was a belly play. I burst up the middle and I felt something run into me. I felt like a concrete block. I noticed something had hit me but it didn't stop me or even bother me. Some of you know I had to wear rubber goggles back then so my peripheral vision was just enough to identify colors and shapes. I had no idea what had run into me. I just kept going.
Back in the huddle I was getting congratulations. The MLB had hit me and then gone flying. I didn't understand it then, less now, so I paid no attention to it. What I remember is that feeling of invulnerability, that noticing that something had bounced off of me and the fact that that something had no more impact than just being something more than that. I can always feel it in my bones.
It went that way the rest of the game. He had no more tackles.
I watched the game film and saw it happen, still not understanding, just knew that the sport loved me.
Next week is going to be interesting.
I have a hectic work schedule and house guests. One of the guests being my puppies brother. Two big black dogs will be interesting and fun. Add in a manic foster dog and it would be great if I could just spectate.
Football was odd. Its been threatening rain all day. Only 8 kids showed up. Most of the kids have to be driven there by parents.
I'm not disappointed. Eight kids means I get to know them better and when you learn one segment of the team well, you can understand the whole team that much better.
At volleyball practice, where the kids are poor and generally have to make their own way there had about 140 show up, or nearly 3 times more kids than the previous week.
I'm not sure exactly what those number imply.
I will, by necessity, be even quieter next week.
The update to the latest Word Press on the 19th of May seems to have broken my RSS feed.
I'm still trying to figure out why. Until then this link should work http://warchild13.com/wp-atom.php in NewsGator or whatever RSS reader you're using, at least until I can figure out how to fix the whole thing.

Technorati Tags: baseball, coaching, dogs, football, surfing

Posted by David at 7:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Upland" by Studio BenBen I survived one of the physically roughest days in my older life.
And it was a sort of fun.

Proctoring the test was enjoyable. I was surprised that the classrooms were so small. I thought that was a good thing. When I was in school it was usually at least 40 to a class. Here it was about 20.
Another surprise was that these tests are the ones the state uses in allocating funds, firing people, giving raises. So why didn't they fund the program to the point of at least not having to beg for volunteers? Even jury duty style money or bus fare would have enticed a lot more people to show up.
I liked the kids. The huge clothes they wear nowadays made sense in the classroom. As soon as they handed in their answer sheets they'd pull the shirts over their heads and pull their arms out of the sleeves and take a nap in a wearable cocoon. I thought it was clever.
Especially considering the kids who finished first still had to sit in the classroom for 3 hours, waiting for everyone else to finish.
They all handled that pretty well.
They tried some things on me but they wouldn't be kids if they didn't. Nothing outrageous, in fact it was all very well modulated and the kids were very well behaved.
I'm the kind of guy who finds it amusing to watch kids try and get away with stuff I tried when I was a kid: the old dropped pencil ploy, the sneezing a note across a room. They seldom worked for me either.
One kid finished the test in 10 minutes. I was curious as to whether he was that smart or that apathetic. There was no one I could safely ask.

The doctor was a pain. There has been a study on the diabetics medicine they've been feeding me for the last 7 years. This study holds that the medicine increases the likelihood of heart attacks by 45%. I got diabetes as a side effect to one of the chemo's. This chemo they knew increased the likelihood of heart attacks by 50%. Add in all the other factors and I think I just shot into the favored position, as in it will be amazing if I don't have a heart attack! Glaxo, the drug company is defending themselves by saying their tests only indicate a 30% increase in heart attacks . . . and they claim they made it public knowledge last year . . . they've been selling it for 15 years . . .
Going in my favor is the fact that I'm reasonably calm, don't have high blood pressure and work out a reasonable amount.
Its nothing to stress over. Its just something that can't be ignored.

Then there were the volleyball camps. I like volleyball as a sport. I'm not too keen on beach volleyball. It lacks the intricate passing and the opponent confusing fakes and feigns. I do like that beach volley ball protects the athletes body when going for the dig. (The dig is where the athlete lays out in an attempt to stop the opponent from scoring. The theory is that you give up your body so that you can get enough of your hand on the ball to get the ball up for a teammate to scoop the ball up and try and set up your own score.)
This was a pretty rough group of kids, but they were all polite, interested and motivated.
I don't know much about coaching volleyball, But I'm good with SAQ (Speed, Agility, Quickness). There are no sports that don't benefit from Speed, agility or quickness.
The coach thought I worked the kids too hard, at first. Then he saw that they were even more enthusiastic! They asked me, the way rough kids do, if I'd be back next week. I said yeah.

The hospital with Dr Puppy always goes well. She does her job so well. She played tea time with the girls. They got mad and lectured her about being impolite and eating her cookie before everyone else had been served!

Work is the same: more annoyed each time I meet a coworker. Dismayed and appalled that I should be grouped in with people with no hygiene and no manners who tell pornographic unfunny jokes to strangers. Yeah.

My friend has asked me why the universe is unraveling. Like I can point to a specific thread and say it starts there.
It's not like that. Its like the fabric of my little micro-verse has been doused with caustic acid and the whole sheaf has become something unrecognizable. She has a right to ask.
I'll try and make time to answer. I see ways to answer but not complete explanations yet.

I also realized how ingrained Southern California is in me. I heard me described as the tall guy with the Southern California accent . . . maybe that's why I like Chandler so much. The Irish have Joyce, the South has Faulkner and the lonely surfers have Chandler.

Technorati Tags: coaching

Posted by David at 7:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Rosewood Canvas" by Vsal Fascinating that Bush appears to be as insensitive to affluent kids in Blacksburg, VA as he has been to the poor kids of New Orleans. Maybe he just hates people.
My demeanor is getting bad. This is a time I miss Southern California. When your infected with this general malaise of heart, mind and body LA really does have it all.
Depression is something you have to work hard to cling to when there are 40 foot palm trees swaying against cloudless blue skies. You can think about the sunsets being so spectacular because the pollutants are killing you also make pretty purples in the air, and you can think about the rats that infest the palm fronds, but if you need to do that there's not much hope for you anyway.
There's Taquitz Rock out by Palm Springs, Joshua Tree where you can go remind yourself that you're still alive by clinging to rocks. Where if you make a mistake you will probably die. Nothing brings the senses and concentration in focus like pain and imminent death. Never met a rock climber who suicided.
But there is mainly the surf. There's something about floating in cold salt water, straddling your board and looking out at the ocean. No matter what's behind you in front of you is vastness. Somewhere in the world there is always a storm. The storm comes to you in line after line of waves.
Some people look at surfers and call us "the monks of the sea", which to me just proved they didn't know what they were talking about.
But like all things that are 99% wrong there's the 1% that's true.
Surfing has gotten to big. There's only one ocean and just a few hundred miles of decent breaks. Like on a 6 foot northern swell there might be 300 - 400 people in the water. Half of them will drop down on one 20 foot section of wave.
And the rush from hearing the girls gasp when you pull off your wet suit off your shoulders isn't nearly as cool as the rush of having a wave to yourself.
But when I would get to the point . . . this point, what ever you call it, I'd go to a break called Zero's. It was hard to find, a left and even on ankle snapper days had a totally crunching shore break that keeps the beach goer's away.
On small days the place was deserted. Even on good days lefts are the province of the goofy footers. It was a small point and didn't often mesh up with the pounding beach breaks for tubular action. Pain was too much for the kuks so it was a place you could go and have an ocean to yourself.
The one percent that's true about "sea monks" is that you do sit out there, half your body immersed in water, some of the time your teeth are chattering and you just stare out into the ocean. Your watching the lines form figuring what ones will peak right at the point.
You're not doing any complicated math. In your head there's nothing but white noise and the moving image of the humps of water rolling in.
Sometimes there's a playful dolphin or an annoying sea lion that forces you to accept your not truly alone in the universe, because sometimes you need the reminder, but most of the time there are no distractions, no thoughts, no hammering through problems or issues, there's just the wet and the lines.
Yeah, so the same people who romanticize surfers as meditating monks have that as their soul/sole argument. The same people also tell you that if you leave anything on the beach the surfers will steal it. One a good day you turn and catch the peak with two strokes, then take that plummet as you fall down the face of a mountain of water, timing and preparing to crank a bottom turn that will propel you back up the surface, maybe for lip smack, or get some air, or just shred the face.

Click images for desktop size: "Distressed" by Titanium Thing is you don't know. There's no enough time to plan these things. You can only react to the power of the wave. If you stop to think or plan you probably wouldn't die but you'd get tumbled along the bottom and probably look very uncool.
Its a slinging rush that defies description. Better than sky diving, better than drag racing. Just better. So fast, so pure reflexes and vision. You always walk away from a session feeling something elusive, something private. Surfers always understand this. They understand that we all experience the same thing and that our experiences are always personal and profound and private.
We can understand the rush of finding a 25 footer that peels out perfectly, we all can, but we also understand the stuff that happens in our body and mind belongs only to me or to you. There's only the acceptance that we are individuals who rely only on ourselves and that language and paintings and film can only convey so much.

Humor not helped much by my paycheck. The mammoth 3% raise didn't appear. They insist they're right. I know they're wrong. What's the problem with sending me the payroll details via email instead of waiting 5 days. I think I'll get cheated.
And the little puppy is still at the shelter. This saddens me.
I got some new food that is guaranteed healthy and not subject to recall. I can breathe easier except my lovely puppy has diarrhea. They say it seems to be prevalent this year. I have no idea what that means. It hurts me to see her suffer.

My foster dog got spayed Thursday. I'm supposed to keep her calm. I've no idea how to do that. She won't drink the brandy.

Technorati Tags: dogs, puppy, surfing

Posted by David at 5:25 PM | Permalink

Click images for desktop size: "The Needles Of Joy" by Luis Royo Its been a chaotic week. On Sunday I avoided getting hit by a car while on my bike and I really torqued my back.
Its been giving me a lot of pain ever since. As in 5 minutes putting on my socks bad.
The good part about that was that it made clear to me that the antibiotics I've been eating have knocked out most of the major pain I was feeling before.
I don't know if that is a fair trade off. I also never imagined how many times I bend down.
I haven't missed any work. I have been glad things have been slow.

High school football season is over. We won on Monday (the postponed game from the Friday) 52-0. It was the final home game. No band. Poor turnout but the kids learned to play for the joy of the game all over again. It was an admirable performance. All the seniors got on the field.
It was also where some more damage was done to my back. I don't blame anyone. For a football player, after the personal fantasies, a couple of their big dreams are to win a game where the fans storm the field and tear down the goal posts. ANother is to carry their coach off the field. Except usually coaches don't have bad lumbars that make it hard to keep themselves erect, nor do they have a puppy who is not so keen on seeing the coach raised out of their reach.
What's a little more damage when it helps some one make a small dream come true.
On Friday we played the team that won the conference. They whalloped us 31-7.
The score was secondary. They were a much better team. What was important was that the kids kept playing. They never just gave up.
That was more important to me than a story book ending. Story book endings are pleasant dreams that play through your head and bring smiles on cold nights. Playing through at maximum speed when it looks hopeless is something that sticks with you through out life.

My near legendary search for a housemate rolls on.
And on.
Oh, and on.
One looks promising. 3 have been jerks. 2 have left me numb. 1 would have been pleasant but her father had problems with me being male and not Chinese.
And on.

Last week was my worst week ever in picking NFL games!! I was 5-8. This knocked me all the way down to 147th!
With that in mind my picks this week are in bold.

Atlanta at Detroit - I like the Lions. I really do. Michael Vick has been too hot. I don't think it will last all season, but who knows. The Falcons' strengths hit right at the Lions' weaknesses.

Cincinnati at Baltimore - GAME OF THE WEEK! This one has me excited. The Ravens front 7 against the patchwork Bengals' O-Line will be something to witness. And the ball hawking Bengals secondary and punishing D-Line will make some head cracking plays. I hope it all comes down to McNair and Carson Palmer. That would make this a symphony. Chad Johnson makes me laugh and is good for the game. The NFL should be rewarding and not fining him. No Fun League.

Click images for desktop size: "Melons" by Pixelhust Dallas at Washington - Okay. I was wrong about Tony Romo. I'm not wrong about Parcells and Gibbs being vastly over rated. I still see this as a who cares game with the Cowboys being slightly less awful.

Green Bay at Buffalo - Brett Favre has never been away. I think this will be a close game. The Bills still have not learned how to win, but they are a talented team.

Houston at New York Giants - Last week the Texans proved they have no business in the NFL. They sat David Carr down. No one has even bothered to report whether he will still be a back up this week, so little is the interest. The Giants have to view this as a chance to tune up and work out the kinks before the monster game next week against the Bears.

Kansas City at St Louis - There are a lot of factors in this game, both talent wise, emotionally and in coaching. Its going to be fun seeing what the two first year coaches bring today. I'm taking the Chiefs because Larry Johnson is still one of the finest young men I've ever met and Herm Edwards is a superior coach.
Miami at Chicago - Just like the Giants get a tune up before next weeks “Clash”, so do the Bears. Miami is a better team that Houston but not by much. Nick Saban is not much of a coach and Lovee Smith is getting more and more impressive. Blow Out of the week.

New Orleans at Tampa Bay - Last week the Saints, my team of destiny, got stuffed. I still liked the way they played when it looked hopeless. They played like a college team running on emotion. The Buc's have looked better, hard to look worse, but the Saints will need to win to continue to believe in themselves. That makes them the pick. I still think they are a team of destiny.

Tennessee at Jacksonville - What has happened to the Jaguars? Inconsistent is one thing but erratic is quite another! I never figured that Jack del Rio would come up with a one man team, but with Byron Leftwich as that man it is what he has. Talent-wise the Titans can't stay on the field with the Jags. But . . .

Minnesota at San Francisco - This should be an utter blow out. If it isn't then the Vikings need to rethink their play off aspirations.
Click images for desktop size: "Goodbye Sky" by Adrianna Cleveland at San Diego - Even with the Shawn Merriman fiasco the Chargers are still looking too strong and playing well. The Browns aren't ready to take it to the West Coast yet. WIthout Merriman I'd still look for Winslow to have a big day for the Browns.

Denver at Pittsburgh - Both teams got beaten last weekend, both in different but bad ways. Cowher is looking like an idiot by insisting a dinged up Rothlisberger is the man when Charlie Batch has played better and WON! The Bronco's will recover and score enough.

Indianapolis at New England - Runner up game of the week. Manning and Brady are two of the best to ever play this game. Both are on teams where the talent around them is dwindling. The game is on prime time network when both these guys have shined. I'm taking the Pats over the undefeated Colts just for that reason. The Colts keep withering when under the big spotlight.

Oakland at Seattle - The cruddy game of the week is on Monday night . . . Someone already told me that this gave him an excuse to see what has going on in “Rasslin'”.

Technorati Tags: football, nfl, sports

Posted by David at 9:41 AM | Permalink

Click images for desktop size: "Pirates" I guess I'm getting old.
My memory of the distant past is growing sharper and more distinct. Good memories and bad. Like when I was four and my mother said I could buy a toy. (even today a reason to celebrate)
Suddenly a fellow was shouting that the store was closing in 5 minutes. Instead of being able to weigh and consider all that Woolworths had to offer I had to grab something quickly . . .
I'm getting old.
Wondering what coloration my mind has made to the past. I'm giving the past as much consideration as I usually give to the present.
I guess that's what it means to get old.

It looks like my search for a housemate is over. This fellow seems eager enough. I'm not thrilled about it. Not his fault at all. Its all to do with me.
My puppy and I like being to our own devices. We like getting things and putting them where we like them. Problem is can't afford the rent on our own and there is a room and a bathroom we never even think of entering. . . so, he's supposed to come by and give me money on Friday and then the rest of the money for the month on the Weds following.
Money.
Yeah, that's why I'm doing it.

Practice this morning was good. There were some lost eyes on the field but the focus stayed true. The goals are still there. Things were up tempo.
We talked about the World Series. I haven't had much interest in this series. I think the Cardinals are boring. I liked the Tigers but I have a hard time with American League teams as a rule. The DH rule. I like the Tigers young fireballers, and “Pudge” Rodriguez is one of the best catchers of all time. But last night got my interest rekindled. I loved the dirt ball fiasco.
While I don't think major league umpires can be fooled by an old fashioned mudball the mere concept of it has a poetry. Add to it the age of the pitcher and his incredible streak of 24 scoreless innings in the playoffs and series; it softens my heart and makes me yearn for beauty.

Technorati Tags: baseball, football

Posted by David at 7:06 PM | Permalink

Click images for desktop size: "Feathers" by Steve Truett So much going on. My housemate is finally moving out. This is good. I was paying half the rent and all the bills but living in one room with my puppy. He filled up the rest of the house with kibble and junk. (See Philip K Dick's “Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep” to properly understand the properties of kibble.)
I'v been advertising for new housemates. There comments have been on the order of, “You must be pretty calm to have put up with this!”
But as much as that bothers me, its less than his never cleaning or helping with cleaning or even just watching me clean. That's trivial but merely disconcerting at times. It bothers me that when he's alone with my puppy he's created some odd behavior patterns within her. I finally figured out its his odd habit of teasing animals, not viciously mind you, but in a way that blurs his concept of others. Its something I can deal with but don't need to.
The other worry is that when he goes, on short notice . . . I'll be stuck for twice the rent, as its clear no one will want to rent the place while it is filled to overflowing with his kibble that means I'll be living extremely thinly for a while. But I'll be living, my puppy will be happy and that's good enough.
The pain has been really bad. The pain killers I take are prescription strength ibuprofen. I realized all they were was double the strength of the stuff you buy at Walgreens, double the strength for 8 times the price! So I just double up on the cheap stuff and save the prescription for real, “O my god, I'm out!” style emergencies. Then I realized I was up to double the prescription dosage so I figured I had better cut down! I tried taking one of the narcotic ones (No more than 2 in a 24 hour period) and they do work but the price is too high.
Mainly I deal with pain by ignoring it as best I can.
I deal with the stress like the house and money by thinking it through until I've come to a conclusion and then not thinking about it again.
Sports do a great job of keeping my mind off of these things, but the Sunday games were terrible! Some stellar performances dotted in but this was just a boring Sunday.
Now that the Dodgers have fallen out of first place (I know I'm not a big pro sports fan but I was raised in the Ocean and at Chavez Ravine {Dodger's home field}) even baseball was not fun to think about. I've already worked out my coaching strategy for the week. We have a big game this Friday night - cross town rival and the winner has the inside track on making the State playoffs - and I had to focus on where best to put our limited practice time.
So I did a LOT of house cleaning . . . odd that I can still feel so sick and so much pain while performing the required drudgery.
What I thought about was a question the kids are always asking me: What was the best championship I ever won?
They wouldn't like the answer.

Click images for desktop size: "Un Dia De Relax" by Libros They look up to me because I've played big time college ball. Its the next step they want to take. I'm blind enough to think that there's no reason any player can't do what I do.
A lot of coaches think I'm foolish to believe this. Its the same coaches who think I was foolish in thinking a British kid could ever make it to the NFL.
They were wrong there too. You can never ever discount the power of a dream.
But my favorite championship?
It was not football but baseball. And not College ball but Little League. It wasn't even the first one my team won. I was 10 years old. My buddy Tom was 11. Tom was 6'2“ then and I was 5'9”. We learned early to always keep our birth certificates in our back pockets on game day.
This was just a neighborhood team, a park league, because back then they made sure there was money for park leagues. I think they used 1/2 of 1% of the money they now earmark for prisons.
We didn't even have a coach. We did, you had to have an adult, but he went to jail for alimony or something. Jail scared us too much to investigate fully. So we would round up whatever adult we could find and get him or her to present our line up card to the umpires.
Sometimes our emergency managers would even stay and watch part of the game.
I think we were undefeated that season. I remember the championship game was a pretty lop sided victory. I mean we were all gremmies, super fit kids who loved playing the game.
The only thing I remember about it was Pete making one of his patented catches where he climbed the 5 foot chain link fence and dived off of it to steal a homer from our opponents.
Pete did that stuff all the time but this time was remarked upon because the opposing manager, a real serious guy complained about it bitterly to the umps.
So we won and all got our little trophies and one big trophy.
Pretty soon everyone else had gone and we were there looking at our trophies and not feeling much of anything at all. There were 12 of us so we chose up sides and played six on six. We would play it that odd innings right field was an automatic out - even innings left field was an automatic out. That way we were convinced we'd learn to pull the ball!
We played until it was too dark to see. While we played I realized we were the best, the 12 of us were the best team in the area. My team won that game against ourselves.
Its my favorite and most memorable championship. Still.

Technorati Tags: baseball, dog, football

Posted by David at 6:49 PM | Permalink

Click images for desktop size: "Hug" by Deep Blue Renegade We won Friday night.
It was a good win. Plenty of good plays for everyone, winners and losers.
The only drawback was there was a driving rain. We weren't allowed into the locker rooms until an hour before kick off.
I hate gamesmanship.
Someone pointed out that when I used that word they thought it was a synonym for sportsmanship and couldn't understand why I used it with such disgust.
I don't know the origins of the word gamesmanship. I think of it as a word for some people who don't understand the beauty of the game and instead get confused and think the game is about winning so they create these little mind games to bewilder and put off the players from the real task in front of them.
Its sort of like asking a painter to paint you a masterpiece and then hiding some of his brushes.
Sadly it was apparent in USC's opener as well, when Arkansas called 3 consecutive time outs with 5 seconds left to try and rattle the USC field goal kicker.
I don't like that. I like to see everyone bring a clear mind and a clearness of purpose. To play their best against my best.
Or else, what's the point and it might just be a street fight and there's no glory in that, just survival.

Posted by David at 3:38 PM | Permalink

Click images for desktop size: "Etcher" by Anonymous Its been a harsh week.
I took the week off to look for work. That didn't go well. At least I left myself the opening to go back to the old job.
It makes me feel like a prisoner, but I'll get around that.
For some reason it brings to mind an event in Texas. I was working at this job I didn't mind but most of the time we'd show up for work and get sent home - no work no pay sort of thing.
I was walking home when these 2 crazy girls from work picked me up - crazy as in crazy and girls as in both under 25 and living with the parents. They wanted to come over to my place. They were pretty explicit.
I said no. I didn't want them in my space, learning that much about me.
I turned them down. Really. I did.
The same way having two girls intrude into my dog's and my life made me feel its that same sense of intrusion, of lack of freedom and choice that my job presses in on us.
If I had to chose between them I'd take the two crazy girls . . .

Football has been going very well, for me and my kids anyway. The other coaches are panicking. I try and remember that their jobs might hinge on this. They take the loss in ways that don't affect me.
My goals always stay the same. To work out problems I've seen in the film and to endure that my kids play better than they did the week before.
I still see their deficiencies as a failure on my part. Not on theirs. I can't drill sergeant and blame them for not listening or not trying hard enough.
My other big fear is that we'll win tonight and the staff will see that as justification for this weeks methods. I expect to win tonight. I always expect to win. I take losses very personally.
Again I remember Eddie Robinson - “No coach ever won a game and no player ever lost one.”
My kids have given me everything I've wanted for them. They walk with pride and now they need to swagger.

It was my birthday this week. I got cool stuff. My friend sent me flowers. I noted that they were her favorites - color and type. I liked being remembered. I like them.
I also got ELEVEN DVD's!
A box set of eight Shaolin Temple films! Including five by Liu Chia Liang! And that subset includes The 36th Chamber films.
They're from a Chinese Company called Celestial which has lavished as much attention on them as Criterion does on it's classics. They are very beautifully restored and fully merit the extra attention. I also got a beautifully restored DVD of Django! Its most noticeable feature (aside from the Italian sound track) was a tiny 2“ DVD of a 10 minute film called ”The Last Pistolero“. It wasn't very good but it starred an aged Franco Nero. His presence gave the little movie weight and power.

Click images for desktop size: "Flames - Blue Metal" by J Bensch A mildly interesting new film called ”Warriors Of Heaven And Earth“ and a remarkable film, ”A Man Called Blade“.
”A Man Called Blade“ is a slightly above average spaghetti western. What makes it memorable is the soundtrack by the Anti-Morricone's - The DeAngilis Brothers. There idea of what makes a music score is so avant garde it would be stunning in experimental cinema. That they carved out a career in main stream exploitation films is heady stuff.
Their music isn't outre, or pretentious. In fact its primitive and relies more on voices and pitch than anything else. Its cool and funny. Not much fun outside of the movie, but in a film it is revelatory stuff.
And finally someone sent me two books! Charles Dodgson's ”Symbolic Logic“ and ”Lewis Carroll Puzzles“. The puzzle book is dull and not even Lewis Carrol puzzles. Just stock stuff that they've illustrated with some pix from the Alice Books and ”Hunting Of the Snark“. It is so dull they even credit the Snark pix to Tenniel.
The book on logic is satisfying. I had a first and lost it so this is a very welcome thing.
The only sad part is that they were sent from Amazon and Amazon CUT OFF THE NAME OF THE SENDER!
So what I'm hoping for is that in the next few days I get an email or letter calling me an insensitive oaf for not responding with a proper thank you!

No one sent me a birthday present for my dog. She is pretty huffy bout this.

This week I had two doctors appointments. One was for my eyes. No glaucoma and no loose retinal nerves or anything. My vision is getting worse though.
I always imagined going blind as the same as walking around with my eyes clothes - nice inky blackness sort of thing. I didn't think it would be a matter of blurriness and grays.
They dilated my pupils for the picture taking. It took 3 days for the drops to stop screwing up my eyes.
I have to go back in October.
I had a physical. My cholesterol is excellent. My good cholesterol has even looked positive, much improved. I credit that to the flavorless but better than nothing Olive Oil margarine I've started eating lately.
My blood pressure is 120 over 70. That's good but they want me to lower EVERYTHING!
They are even considering putting me on blood pressure medicine!!!
They are trying to stretch me out to the max on that 10 years they promised me, I guess. One interesting thing is that for some unknown reason I developed this odd rash on the back of my left hand. It is all little, smaller than a pinhead, white dots. It hasn't spread and the 50 or so on my left hand are matched with about 4 on the back of my right.
No pain, no itching. They make my skin feel like snake skin!
Maybe people will use it as an excuse to start calling me snake!
I've always wanted a nick name like Snake!

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Posted by David at 8:18 AM | Permalink

Click images for desktop size: "Look Look" by IlonaIt has been a wearisome week.
That is not a bad thing, not bad at all. The only negative is pointing out to me how shallow my reserves of energy have become. Its always good to know your limitations, if only so you have a bar to realize when you've exceeded them - your limitations, I mean.
The week was devoted to football practice. We have our first game tonight.
The games are important to me and to the players. To me it is the only gauge to how well I've been teaching. Its attitude and physically grooming young men to exceed their self imposed limitations.
One thing I learned this week is that one of my British players has actually made an NFL squad. No one can really grasp the tremendous amount of work, the enormous hurdles that a Brit has to overcome to even get an invite to a training camp, that such a player would overcome so much and still be named to the practice squad, to be told he has value in the hard core world where nothing matters except victory, is pretty amazing and speaks legions about the young mans attitude, commitment and the path of his success.
The games are important to the players. I've been accused by opposing coaches of “molly coddling” and “mothering” my players. The truth is that I demand more of them physically than the vast majority of coaches. And to top it all off I demand from them mentally, emotionally. I demand they commit to their community and to society.
These kids came and picked up garbage along the side of the road because the city wouldn't do it.
Winning spells out to these kids that I may be right, not only in the vicious and violent things I ask of their bodies, but in the way I've demanded their humility, their patience and their understanding of the game and of life.
I teach them how to play the game to the best of their and my abilities. The game teaches all the rest.
Victory means to them that all of this has purpose, meaning. They stop wondering why the