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Life, Philosophy, Society, Uncategorized

The Tooth of the Matter

A few weeks ago, our precocious five-year-old son lost a tooth.  It was his first, but this tooth was lost unlike any other in family history: in Florida, on some side road just south of Fort Myers, in the rented mini-van, just after Mass.

drydenDarn thing just literally popped right out of his mouth. We could not locate its whereabouts, and in the midst of a family vacation-slash-destination wedding, it became a moment that passed.

But not before it was destined to become a fun mental memento. Really, at the end of a day, a week, a year – a lifetime – what is left but memories?

As I told our children driving home, in 30 years they would randomly remember something that sparks a bunch of other memories about this trip.  Perhaps it would be the bucket we took as a bathroom “back-up”. (Don’t judge.) Maybe it will be the lost tooth, or the family sing-alongs, the stop for breakfast at Cracker Barrel, the boat ride on an ocean inlet, the sunshine, and the smell of the air, a palm tree, their aunt’s wedding or the color of the couch at our condo.

But something will inevitably jog their memory, many years from now, about Spring Break 2014.

It will become just a drop into a bucket full of moments like this in their lives, which I truly hope overflows with smiles and happiness. Really, I wish that for us all.

Over the years – thousands of them – we humans have managed to create quite the environment for ourselves. We have created more types and kinds of work than our ancestors could possibly imagine.

We play with gadgets that were frankly incomprehensible just 10 years ago. We create these elaborate situations ourselves to impress upon others that we are busy, because busy in a universal modern language equates productivity, success, action.

We spend time polarizing ourselves from the world, choosing sides and wrestling with these really intense issues and topics of concern.

The older I get, the more I come to realize that we are more frequently than not alienating ourselves from the entire original theory: life is to be lived.

I think if I had my druthers – and a small fortune – I’d spend the majority of my days living. Oh sure, we all do that now – but I mean Matthew McConaughey-style: L-I-V-I-N.

And while I certainly sound as though I’ve turned into a free-spirited hippie, or someone who’s seen “Dazed and Confused” one too many times, you’re getting caught again in the semantics.

Make no mistake; there is often great value in what we all “do” on the daily. From doctors to teachers to janitors, most all of our professions, chosen or not, serve society in some way. There is certainly nothing wrong with working hard, burning the midnight oil and feeling as though what you are doing is somehow, in some way, making a difference and contributing something positive to society.

But it is a thin line between that emotion and seeing that notification number on our inboxes increase.  If we are honest with ourselves, we have reached a point in the world where we have to take mental stock of where we sit on that line. Are we pushing it in the sand? Have we crossed over it into a domain of obsession and perfectionism over a bunch of tasks that adds up to very little in the end? How can we be sure the side we are currently on is good or bad?

I might suggest it is a matter of faith. Not necessarily a matter of faith in a biblical sense, though that could be appropriate, but just faith in general.

The kind of faith that allows you to rest easy, for example, that the light will stay green. And though your eyes scan the road to verify no cars are running the red light, you put trust and faith in yourself, the rules of the road and others, that allows you to not ride your brakes and go through the intersection.

sunsetWe speak frequently of luck, of someone watching out for us or karma. No matter what you believe in, this faith tends to weaken if something bad happens. I would contend, however, this is not a matter of faith failing us or letting us down.

Something happened, yes, but not all situations have logic and reason. The same way sickness and poverty are not a punishment or a lesson or a curse. Whether or not you accept this relies entirely on your attitude and commitment to that general faith.

Will it be OK in the end? We really don’t know. But it will happen all the same.

Really, the only question in these moments is do we have the fortitude to focus our resolve?

The rest of the world calls this crazy – to believe in what you are doing when no one else does.

But this is my favorite kind of embrace of life. Who is it we are all listening to? Each other, so it would seem.

So, why are we taking financial advice from our friend that we used to sit next to in high school economics and doesn’t even know what TINSTAAFL means? Why are we taking love advice from the neighbor’s dog-walker’s-Aunt, who has been married three times?

Our situations are all generally just different enough that precedent does not really matter.

For everyone who thinks young marriage cannot last, I can show you dear friends of ours who are a shining example of how it can. For anyone that belittles your favorite movie or band, I’m sure we would mutually agree one of theirs was equally questionable.

This whole world we’ve created for ourselves inside the times we live is a byproduct of  the likes and dislikes of someone else, what’s popular and what just did not catch on. This is why wearing sandals in the winter gathers stares (and perhaps a cold): because it is just not normal.

You know what? I say wear your sandals in the winter should you want to – but not out of irony. Being different to be different is missing the point as well. Still, there is much to be praised for being different, for finding the undefined spaces between the lines and making your mark there.

Faith in oneself, in what you believe, is nothing more than a coping mechanism for getting through this world with some sense of a compass in hand. If you believe in something, then you have something to guide you. In this way, you will know deep inside your heart whether or not you are living each day with a purpose – a purpose defined solely for you and no one else.

Kind of unique, right?

This uniqueness, this independence, this idea continues to mold me, shape me and drive me.  We do not know when and where this will all end, only that it will. But in the time between now and then, what will we do to live? Not simply in just breathing and monitoring our day, completing our tasks, but to feel life, to live it?

There is great purpose in simply finding adventure in the day, in smiling, in laughing, in crying.

And yes, in losing a tooth.

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Win the Day

“How was your day?”

A common expression, generally done out of habit at the dinner table or upon arrival home, this little phrase is the first sentence in a Cliff Notes version of your life, written each day.

What comes out is entirely up to you, each and every day.

rainydayToo often than not, a series of mishaps, misadventures and stresses come tumbling from our lips. It seems that not so secretly, we have divulged that indeed, it was a miserable day.

Except, upon close, honest inspection, we realize it was not a bad day at all. In fact, most of us don’t experience too many bad days, should we properly define the term.

The problem is we defined a bad day long ago, in our first world sort of way.

The dog chewed up a toy, dinner burned and there are 455 dishes in the sink. We got angry at someone at work that didn’t do what we asked and didn’t think just like we wanted (the nerve, right?). After all, we are perfect and our way is clearly the best way, the only way.

Among my many faults, I have a cleanliness OCD wire in my brain that malfunctions constantly. I can’t enjoy anything without order in the kitchen and living room. And the more I try to let this go, the stronger the grip becomes. It is what I complain about to those that I care about. I’m half-tempted to just completely let go and not touch anything for a month to break my addiction to order and cleanliness.

We’re all guilty of this, it’s just we might have a different wire shorting out upstairs.

For some, other people trigger it, for others, politics might set them off. Could be anything, but the point is, we all have something that sets us down a path that has increasingly made the world a more difficult place to enjoy.

And only we are to blame for this paralyzing negativity that repeats itself and spreads like a disease. In fact, people you didn’t even talk to today or don’t even know are potentially being affected by your negativity – and mine – right now.

Somewhere, a friend is telling their spouse how horrible you are because you snapped at them about not going Dutch at lunch. Your brother is belittling your recent stance on gun control to your aunt, which of course led to a conversation with the cousin you haven’t seen in 10 years about the time you played cowboys as kids and used up all the nerf bullets, making you now, later in life, a hypocrite on gun control.

In turn, you talk about them as a defense mechanism.

And what does this get us? A distressed, angry society on the verge of completely flipping out until one day we do, in the most public of ways, of course, through social media or at a family dinner.

In short (too late), a life wasted.

And we’re already wasting enough of life, in the day-to-day, are we not? Consuming ourselves with gossip of either the civilian, hometown or celebrity kind, or with discussions on Mount Rushmore’s of basketball, the Dolphins locker room environment or if Apple has lost its touch because its latest gadget didn’t change your world and make you even more obsessed with playing with it and thereby ignoring your friends and family for hours on end.

These are all just distractions from the things that you’ll forget to remember when you’re old, should you be so lucky.

I read a fantastic piece in The New Yorker by Roger Angell, a 93-year-old man who still has all his faculties and clearly writes better in his 10th decade on this planet that I will ever. He speaks fluidly, and from the heart, about how much of life is underappreciated until there is nothing left but a wish for more time to appreciate it.

We’re just too busy to notice how eager we are to tell everyone how busy we are.

In truth, we were all wired wrong along the way. At some point, earlier in our lives, we were molded by a litany of different forces all impressing upon us what is and what is not important.

And most likely, it was wrong.

Yes, it’s important to be honest, to be on time, to give your best effort. Perfection is to be strived for, but can never be obtained.

We just are not perfect. And we never will be.

But hey, we’ve been told to “win” the game of life, so perfection can be obtained and will be obtained. Everything shall indeed henceforth be perfect.

Except it won’t.

Success and winning are notions based on what we perceive – what our parents and our friends and family perceived – to define those terms. Money, popularity, awards. These somehow justify that what was done to obtain them is in fact winning and success.

It’s not. We can’t define a game, what it means to win it, when we don’t even know how to play. We’re too busy looking at the scoreboard to notice what’s happening in the moment.

We’re missing it – all of us. We care more about our reputation and what is perceived to the point we don’t even know who we are.

The irony is, while we revel in one breath the success of individuals like Steve Jobs, Mark Twain or Albert Einstein, who thought and acted differently from the crowd, in the next breath we’re heartbreakingly removing those very elements from our lives and those closest to us.

“Act right!”

“Be normal!”

“Don’t embarrass me!”

After you are gone, the world will remember bits and pieces for a while, kept alive by those who knew you, knew of you and that you left your imprint on.

In short, as the saying goes, people remember how you made them feel. They will not remember what kind of gas mileage your environmentally safe car got, or that time your two-year-old pulled a total two-year-old move and threw a tantrum in the toy aisle of Target in front of everyone.

In reality, it wasn’t that bad. A minute or two of screaming on a random Thursday morning, and it wasn’t so much in front of everyone as it was an elderly gentleman four aisles over that you only noticed when he walked by four minutes later.

In short (too late, again), we tend to blow things a bit out of proportion.

sunset1And when you are gone, people might remember that, but only briefly.

The point is, we spend an inordinate amount of time looking at the ground instead of up at the sky. And if you take that as a faith-based metaphor, so be it. If you take that as a more direct reference to an artistic and emotive  world, where there is more beauty in the sky – even on a rainy day – than the ground, then so be that as well.

But are we describing sunsets or potholes in our lives?

What if the world’s problems could be solved if we simply started with ourselves and our four walls? Would discussions of gun control, taxes and the dysfunctional Dolphins locker room still be as relevant or important if we all just got a little happier, took the things that really don’t matter a little less seriously?

Perhaps the Beatles were right, love is all you need.

Smile more, grumble less.

Stop counting down to the next “big day” on your social calendar and realize the ones in between make it worth the wait. Those big dates are just mile markers, but the best stuff happens in the middle, in the daily.

Forget, as best you can, the wiring in your brain telling you to not be a minute late, that this, that and everything in between are really, really, super important. It’s life. It’s kind of all important and not at the same time.

Just enjoy the ride instead of examining the fuel intake ratio.

And the next time someone asks, “How was your day?”

Well, remember it’s all in how you define the answer, not the question.

You might be able to answer that you won today.

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The Mid-Early 30s

Next Monday, I’ll be 32.
This is strange to me for some reason.
I’m not old enough for a mid-life crisis and frankly, with four children, I don’t have time for one anyway. But that is not what has made turning 32 an odd experience. It’s the number.
I don’t feel 32. As my wife and some close friends would attest, I certainly do not act 32. I barely act 12 most days (and I think that’s a good thing).
Thirty was not quite as overwhelming as I made it out to be in my mind. I was a little panicked leading up to 30, but it was not that big a deal once it was over. Yet for some reason, 32 feels older.
Perhaps it’s because my 9-year-old son wasn’t even alive the last time Michael Jordan laced them up. Perhaps it’s because I’m nearly 10 years removed from college. Maybe it’s the gray that’s creeping into my beard or it might be that my muscles get a little bit sorer each morning.
My dad used to go on about five hours sleep when I was a kid. He’d be up to 11 or 11:30 and then get up for work at 4:00am. I remember thinking that I could never do that. I needed and loved sleep.
And then we had four children. On the days that actually would allow me to sleep in a little, there’s a three-year-old up way too early on a Saturday (before I would even normally be awake) asking to play outside in 30-degree weather or watch Team Umizoomi.
And there it is: the circle of life running it’s course; I’ve become my father.
This is a good thing, as my dad is pretty cool and a great guy.
But man, it’s a little freaky.
As I hit what I’ve gently defined as my mid-early-30s, I’ve jotted a few notes down. I don’t want to stay it is what I’ve learned, because that would be a stretch. But here are 32 things I’ve picked up on:
1.     Faith takes a great amount of, well, faith. It is hard to rationalize something you can’t see or touch. It’s based on feel, but the kind of emotion and belief that’s required to believe in Santa Claus. The problem with this is we all stop believing in Santa. Religious faith requires that you let go all of logic and reason that you’ve been taught and give way to the fact that you are really not in control of certain things.
2.     I spend way too much time agonizing over the smallest things. I need to rid myself of this before I waste too much time worrying about a spill, a stain or how long that bathroom light was on. I need to approach every day like my kids do: what are we doing and whatever it is will be really, really fun.
3.     It’s much more fun to play Santa to your kids than to get the gifts. I finally get why they say it is better to give than to receive. When I was little, I thought that was crazy. Sure, I was glad someone liked their sweater I bought for them, but man was it fun to tear into my presents. And then I saw my wife and kids open up gifts I’d carefully selected and see the reaction on their faces. I no longer care about what I get.
4.     That said, toy companies should have these warning labels: “Grab a few beers, ‘cause this is gonna take awhile. While you are at it, go ahead and pick up 42 ‘AA batteries. Just be prepared to lose your mind trying to put this thing together. If these instructions read like broken English, don’t worry, they were because we’d been drinking heavily when we wrote them. We couldn’t put this thing together, either. When we say ‘some assembly required’ we really mean ‘major assembly’. Hope you graduated from M.I.T. and enjoy the carpel tunnel you get from undoing the 4,322 twist ties.”
5.     People do not know how to drive. They really don’t. I could be included in this group, as everyone seems to believe this as well. If we all think that everyone else can’t drive, maybe we’re really the ones that can’t. That said, it seems like no one really took Driver’s Ed or the exams needed to secure a valid license.
6.     Work is what allows you to live the life you want or need, but work is not life.
7.     Everyone should take road trips with their friends. Especially to Fenway Park.
8.     At 12, I had an obsession with really, really nice basketball shorts. I call them ball shorts. I’m talking like game official. At 22, I still had this obsession. At 32, I’m still obsessed with ball shorts. They are to me what shoes seem to be for women. I have a sneaking suspicion this is something that will not be going away no matter how old I am, so just prepare yourselves to see an 80-year-old Great Grandpa rocking the 2059 Los Angeles Lakers shorts around some Florida shuffleboard.
9.     My parents continue to be awesome. They’ve taught me a lot, but most importantly, they’ve spent a lot of time spending time with me and now, with my family. Their house around the holidays is perhaps the neatest place to be. It’s got that Griswold spirit, but so much more tasteful.
10.  I may be turning 32, but my favorite place on earth may still be Walt Disney World. I’ve got some weird thing where I feel most at peace on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride or in the second floor shop at the Grand Floridian, right next to the window that looks out over the bay. Yeah, I know it’s weird. And I kind of like that.
11.  I worry about money and paying bills, perhaps too much at times, but on the other hand, I don’t care if I leave this earth without a penny to my name. You can’t take it with you, right? It’s more important to me to give my wife and kids stuff now than it is to leave them with something if I go tomorrow.
12   If I really cared about money, I wouldn’t have had children. Once you have them, you’ll pay anything to keep them safe, provide them their dreams and make sure they have it better than you did. My problem is, I had it pretty good.
13.  Reality TV is not real.
14.  My wife saved my life. Emotionally, spiritually, any other –ally that I could come up with. She is my world. I am selfish and think that our love is different than everyone elses and we’re in on a little secret together that no one else has found. And I don’t say that out of ego. Isn’t that how you should feel? That it is different from everyone else and those around you just don’t get it? It’s also not meant to be boastful or to brag, it’s just what I’ve gleaned. When I met her, my world changed, she continues to amaze me and, plus, she’s smoking hot.
15.  I’ve also realized that I truly have no dreams for my children’s future professions. I just want them to do what they like and be happy. When I was agonizing over changing my major for a third time in college, my dad told me to do what I liked. I told him that the problem was I wanted to major in History and be a writer or professor. I wouldn’t be rich. He said I should follow my passion, because enjoying what you do while make you a different kind of rich. So if they want to be a teacher, lawyer, doctor, fireman, artist, astronaut, president, garbage man, dancer, professional athlete, chef, airline pilot, race car driver, gymnast, small business owner, volunteer in some third world country or a farmer, I’m good as long as they dig it.
16.  There is nothing like an ice cold beer.
17.  There is also nothing like a pizza and bread sticks. I’d eat it every day of the week and twice on Sundays. And I think I did that a few times in my early 20s.
18.  Little moments before big moments give me great joy. I look forward to watching a TV show with my wife at 10:30pm. I enjoy the drive in between my family and my wife’s family on Thanksgiving, when all the kids are napping because they had fun at one place and are getting ready to have more fun at another. I like driving to the airport before a vacation and Christmas Eve. Basically, I enjoy the moments before something starts. Anticipation is a great thing.
19.  There’s nothing like the endorphin surge after a good, long run.
20.  Even though it destroys my body, mainly my back, I like when one, two or all of our kids climb in bed in the middle of the night.
21.  I react poorly in some situations. I react completely appropriately in others. And the fact I can’t stop the former since I can do the latter is infinitely frustrating to me. I guess that’s why we’re human and have faults. But damn if I am not a perfectionist and would like to fix that.
22.  I love the chaos of our big family, but I am OCD about picking up and cleaning. Sorry to anyone who’s had dinner at our house while I begin cleaning up while the rest of you are eating. I hate a mess.
23.  That said, I will never clean-up if our kids have some big set-up and imaginary situation going with their toys. I’ll let them play out whatever fantasy world they have created for as long as they like.
24.  There isn’t an iPod big enough to hold the soundtrack of my life.
25.  Alec Baldwin has the voice of an angel. It’s like warm honey. I’ve watched episodes of “Thomas the Tank Engine” with my son just to hear him narrate.
26.  I used to be able to name the U.S. Presidents in order, with political party. Now, I can only get about 38 of them right. I keep forgetting Millard Fillmore and John Tyler. But I can still recite every NCAA Final Four team since 1980, along with the teams that advanced to the championship and the winner. I have no idea what this says about me.
27.  I love it when my wife doesn’t wear lipstick, because her natural lip color is amazing.
28.  Over thinking is overrated, but man do I love to analyze. For example, see this list as both analyzing and over thinking.
29.  I will never understand the current obsession with Vampires.
30.  There hasn’t been enough appreciation for all that we’ve accomplished in this world. From creating pen and paper and languages, printing, cars, machines, putting a man on the moon, telephones, cell phones, internet, wiping out diseases that killed millions 600 hundred years ago with a simple vaccination, indoor plumbing, light bulbs, etc. We’ve been one creative race.
31.  That said, we’re a little full of ourselves in the grand scheme of the universe.
32.  And finally, as I told my wife last night, I may be turning 32 and it could be a halfway point in my life. Or I might have 50-60 years left. Or longer. Or a lot less. I have no idea. But no matter what happens, life is extremely enjoyable and I hope it continues just like this, with her and our children.
Now that I’ve done this, 32 doesn’t feel so bad. Bring on the mid-early 30s. I’m totally ready. 
Kind of.


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The Cruelty of Time

One of the most underrated TV shows of the past two years has been an NBA production called “The Association”, which chronicles the season from start to finish of one NBA team. Last year, it was the Los Angeles Lakers; this year, it’s the Boston Celtics.
Beginning with training camp, viewers get an all access look at the Celtics as they try to get back to the NBA Finals and win another banner.
But this is the ultimate reality show. Exclusive interviews with players who are sharing their back stories, workout habits and feelings on the team’s performance. For a team that includes NBA stars like Kevin Garnett, Ray Allen, Paul Pierce, Rajon Rondo, Shaquille O’Neal and coach Doc Rivers, it’s truly been must see TV for any basketball fan.
From chronicling Shaquille O’Neal’s re-injury less than five minutes into his comeback against the Detroit Pistons on April 3, to the urgency of the Big Three, it was some of the most compelling scenes of stuff that happens in and around a sport.
The final episode, which aired last week, was jarring to any fan between the ages of 25 and 40.
It was perhaps more reality than I wanted to deal with. It was a window into the reality of what time does to the body, specifically with O’Neal.
At one time, Shaquille O’Neal was one of the most amazing athletes I’d ever seen. From the moment I saw his “Don’t fake the funk on a nasty dunk” commercial as a rookie with the Orlando Magic, both O’Neal’s personality and athleticism were uncontrollable. He really seemed like Superman.
Just take a look at his stats page: http://www.nba.com/playerfile/shaquille_oneal/career_stats.html
Tell me what you see? I know what I see…memories of my teenage years, watching O’Neal shatter backboards and abuse opposing centers with an absolute force.
For a few years, he was an unstoppable machine in the post. It’s why the Lakers won three rings with him, why he won another with the Heat and made a Finals appearance with the Magic in 1995.
Shaq’s best season had to be 1999-2000. Leading the Lakers to the title, his first, Shaq averaged 29.7 points, 13.6 rebounds, 3.8 assists and 3.0 blocks per game, while shooting nearly 58 percent from the field. Those are simply crazy stats over an 82 game season.
Years from now, we’ll see highlights and briefly remember Shaq that way – an agile 7-footer with so much speed, size and raw force he couldn’t be contained. But time has already altered our memories of him. My 9-year-old son thinks he’s an old, injury-plagued back-up who looks out of shape.
In reality, both are true.
As with most NBA centers and really all players, years of playing 82-plus games a year is not kind on the body. During “The Association: Boston Celtics” finale last week, he admitted as much, saying that getting old was hard because you don’t recover from a tweaked ankle or hamstring like you used to. Shaq alluded to some 39-year-old guy watching right now in his office thinking the same thing.
And he’s right. I’m only in my early 30s, but I’ve already noticed it. Old injuries flare up, new ones emerge. I could hurt my back bending over to tie a shoe and the pain is debilitating.
As fans, when that reality hits us, it changes our perspective on how we view players and teams each year. A Laker fan, I used to despise the Spurs and Celtics. Now, I’m slightly torn and somehow want to see them hang on for a little bit longer, but I know they won’t.
Go back and look at Shaq’s stats again. Notice the games played category? He’s never played a full 82-game season. Since 2004-05, O’Neal has only played in more than 61 games once – with Phoenix in 2008-09, when he played 75.
It just takes longer to recover. It’s a young man’s game and we’re witnessing a changing of the guard. 

The question is, what happens to the old men who were once young men?

A 22-year-old (Derrick Rose of the Chicago Bulls) will be named NBA MVP today. The young Memphis Grizzlies beat the fundamental Spurs in six games in the first round. Other youthful teams, like the Bulls, Heat, Hawks and Thunder are all still alive. The Grizzlies were the Western Conference’s 8-seed, the Spurs were the best NBA team in the regular season. It’s only the second time that kind of upset has occurred in a seven game series.
But the regular season is a veteran’s playground – dealing with the rigors of the road, the bumps and bruises. The regular season encourages sustained excellence and mental toughness.
The playoffs, however, are about much more: how much farther, harder and faster can you push yourself after a five month season? For guys like Shaq, Tim Duncan, Kobe Bryant, Kevin Garnett and so many more, it’s a challenge just to get to the playoffs in one piece. Often they don’t. Kobe’s dealt with a litany of minor injuries the past few years, Garnett missed much of the playoffs in 2009. Duncan just can’t keep up with guys like Zach Randolph every other night for 10 days straight.
We haven’t had a changing of the guard quite like this in the NBA, not since the early 1990s, when Jordan’s Bulls began usurping the Pistons, Lakers and Celtics.
Blake Griffin’s raw skills, along with Howard’s, are breathtaking until you realize that you have seen something similar before. I saw it in Kobe, KG, Shaq…they did it too.
Back then, I was all for seeing guys like Jordan pass Isiah, Magic and Bird. I loved seeing Kobe going toe-to-toe with Michael in ’97 and ’98 – young guns taking over from the old men who should just get out of the game before the embarrass themselves.
And then I hit 30. Now I know there’s more to it than that. It’s not so easy to give up something you love so much, something you’ve poured all your energy into. Even though your body tells you it’s closing time, your mind and heart tell you that you’ve been there before and can do it again.
Maybe that’s why Garnett slaps himself in the head, head-butts the goalpost, and bounces around like a pool of sweat. Maybe it’s why Kobe and Ray Allen shoot hundreds of jumpers – three hours before a playoff game. It’s why Jordan dragged his flu-ridden body around the court in Utah during the legendary Finals and why Willis Reed limped back out in ’70. It’s why Charles Barkley had to literally blow out his knee to the point he couldn’t walk before he could literally walk away.
“It can’t be over – I’m not ready for it to be over. I can still do it.”
The same heart of a champion we credit for greatness is the same childlike stubbornness that makes them push on and on in later years.
And that’s what I thought of when I saw Shaq limping down a dark corridor to the Celtics locker room. Head down, a look on his face that was both pained and blank – like he expected it to happen. Juxtaposed with that was young Celtics All-Star point guard Rajon Rondo back on the floor during the game, cutting and stopping on a dime, breaking ankles and displaying a fifth gear of speed.
You have to laugh a little bit then at how excited we get when Kobe dunks on a second-rate center like Emeka Okafor in the Lakers first round match-up with the Hornets. Or when he really turns it up for the All-Star game to prove he still belongs. We know it’s still there, so does he. It just doesn’t come out every day to play.
One day Rondo will be Shaq. One day the torch will be passed unwillingly from one generation to the next. One day we’ll forget how good he was.
They don’t go because they want to. They go because they are made to.
It’s a young man’s game – and youth is fleeting.
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What Goes Around…

Tuesday night after the Los Angeles Lakers destroyed – and I mean absolutely throttled – the Cleveland Cavaliers 112-57, former Cavs star LeBron James took his talents to Twitter and tweeted the following:
“Crazy. Karma is a b****. Gets you every time. It’s not good to wish bad on anybody. God sees everything!”
LeBron must subscribe to the school of thought that God is on his side and is a vengeful God with intent to humiliate James’ former franchise and its owner, Dan Gilbert, for being so mad at him for leaving Cleveland.
He might be the only one.
Clearly, James hasn’t emotionally recovered yet from the pure venom directed his way by his former team and his former teams fans. His mind might be on the Miami Heat and winning the NBA championship this season, but his heart is heavy and dark. He’s still holding onto the words Gilbert wrote in anger after LeBron took his “talents to South Beach.”
If you recall, Gilbert wrote a scathing letter questioning James’ character and that karma would come back and get LeBron James. In a series of interviews since, Gilbert has implied that James quit during the playoffs in each of the past two seasons. He said that LeBron didn’t care about Cleveland.
LeBron has said that Gilbert never cared about him.
Suppose the question becomes, does he have to? He’s your boss. He pays you to do a job. We so often blur the line of entertainment and business in sports that now there’s larger obligations, unwritten rules that we apparently have to follow.
Maybe the larger question is why Gilbert was mad to begin with. James’ was his contracted employee for seven years. James’ fulfilled the obligations of his contract. There were no contract stipulations demanding undying devotion to the Cavs, delivering an NBA championship or even handling himself in an appropriate manner if he chose to leave the team.
It’s already been discussed and widely accepted, by James himself, that he mishandled the situation with the train wreck that was “The Decision.” But Gilbert also mishandled his emotion filled rants since that time.
Dude, he’s gone. Get over it. Start paying attention to the fact your team stinks something fierce. These emotional attachments just aren’t good for anyone.
But bringing God and how He works into it doesn’t help either.
That’s the second time this week God has been brought in reference to something that happened in the realm of play.
On Monday, following Auburn’s 22-19 victory over Oregon in the BCS National Championship, Auburn head coach Gene Chizik proclaimed, “First of all, I can’t be more blessed to be part of a whole team like this. Man, God was with us.”
Tim Keown of ESPN.com wrote about this instance as well and I’d basically say the same thing: so does that mean God hates Chip Kelly and Oregon? Was He sickened by the Oregon DayGlo uniforms? Something against Ducks?
It’s not the implication that God plays favorites in regards to sporting events, but that God even cares about Auburn football, Oregon football or the war of words between LeBron James and Dan Gilbert.
It’s one thing to praise whatever deity you believe in for blessing you with talents that have allowed you to be in the moment or to excel in something, or for the opportunity. No one begrudges guys like Tim Tebow for that.
However, a line is crossed when you insinuate, perhaps through your own stupidity and understanding of the situation and others, that God cares about the outcome of the game or a situation for you more than someone else.
For Chizik, we don’t even know the final outcome. Meaning, will Auburn even get to keep the national championship it just one? You know, that whole Cecil Newton “pay for play” thing? 
And if Chizik is so convinced God cared more about Auburn and his players than Oregon, Chip Kelley and his players, as Keown suggested in his column, is Chizik donating his performance bonus for winning the title – $600,000 – to a charitable organization?
If not, if Chizik keeps that check (likely), then I’d love to say the following:
But you said yourself that God blessed you and your players and led you to victory, so that money is not rightfully yours, it’s God’s. Give it back. Otherwise, you’re stealing, essentially, from the very man who blessed you, right?
I’d venture a guess that Chizik’s head would explode trying to process that line of thinking.
I’m sure God wants you to have the money, coach.
As for James, he’s partially correct. It’s not good to wish bad on anybody. But isn’t it also not good to revel in the pain and defeat of others? Won’t that jeopardize the karma as well?
A massive ego is rarely considered a good thing either, but all of this is coming from the same man who once declared that he spoiled everyone with his play.
In fact, let’s inspect, for fun, another LeBron quote, shall we?
Following a game several years ago, James told the media, “That’s not fair. I was fouled.”
But being a man of faith and apparently a believer in karma, there’s a good reason that foul wasn’t called, right? It had to have been punishment for some past indiscretion or wrongdoing, however small. Or, God was with the other team and the other players and coaches that night.
It’s a vicious little cycle, isn’t it?
See, we open our mouths, but a lot of the time, all that comes out is trash, jibberish or nonsense. Maybe it’s because fans and the media beg athletes, coaches and entertainment figures of all kind to talk, but then we don’t like what we hear.
Or perhaps it has nothing to do with that. 
Maybe God has bigger things to worry about. Maybe karma exists, but not on the miniscule level of the professional sports realm. Maybe there’s a tad too much personal emotion and investment put into the lives of multimillionaires who play games for a living.
Or, just maybe, we should all just do what we were told to do a long time ago.
If you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all. After all, it could come back to bite you.
Just ask LeBron James. 


On Wednesday night, the Heat were beaten by the Los Angeles Clippers and James was hurt.


Now that’s karma.
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