I'm currently in the midst of watching the last 20 minutes of Sharks hockey this season. And there is really only one word to describe this postseason--Pathetic. Well, maybe two words, the second being "Embarassing." I can't even explain the sickening feeling it gives me to watch the Sharks (#1 ranked team, President Trophy winner, etc.) go out in the first-freaking round to the disgusting Anaheim Ducks--a bunch of whiny thugs.
I've honestly never been so frustrated with any team. Ever. In my lifetime. I last year's 5-OT loss in Game 6 to the Stars (my second-most hated team in the West) was the peak of hockey anger. I was wrong. So, so wrong.
The thing is, this Sharks team was one of the most talented hockey teams I've ever seen. They had it all-- a ton of depth...forwards that could score beautiful goals, one of the best defensive contributing squads there is and solid as hell goaltending by Nabokov (even when he went down, Boucher was a pretty decent back-up.) During the first half of the regular season, there was almost no one that could contend with us. We just dominated. Then after the all-star break, we just sort of lost an edge. I mean, we still won, but we just weren't dominating the same way. It made us Sharks fans nervous. Turns out--rightfully so.
Starting Game 1 on this series, we folded. We lost any heart we had during the regular season. What I, and all other Sharks fans simply can't understand is why. Why would you not be excited for this game? You are the winniest team in franchise history, you are the top team in the NHL, and you are playing a team that barely made the 8th sead--oh and who happens to be your biggest rival! Sounds like something most teams would be slightly energized for.
Again though, the Sharks didn't show up to play. Didn't feel like these first games were "must-wins." No intensity. No determination. No commitment to winning. They dug themselves a ridiculous hole. Though they won Game 3 and played a bit better, they really didn't show up as a team until Game 5, when we were down 3-1. We won that game to give ourselves a chance (sort of) and came out flying for the first ten minutes of Game 6. It looked promising. But then we quit. We just stopped. And now we are done. Again.
I honestly feel bad for teh eight Western Conference teams who didn't make the playoffs and deserved to be there more than the Sharks. Maybe their records didn't show it, but I gaurantee any one of those teams would have put more effort into the playoffs than we did.
Where we go from here, who knows? There are multiple directions in which to point the finger. I don't even want to go into a rant about all the people who didn't live up to their potential--and who haven't for five years. At this point, I just think it's an overall attitude in this organization. Maybe we are living up to our hippie, laid-back, chilled-out Northern California reputation. I don't know.
All I know is that my hockey heart is broken. I hate this.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Friday, October 17, 2008
Passing time with you in mind...
Tonight I miss my family. Especially my sister, who is celebrating her 21st birthday. Since moving from California to Illinois, there are moments sometimes where I get this little twinge in my heart wishing I was close to my family again. I am so happy with my life in Illinois and I think moving here was a wonderful decision. I don't have any regrets, but there's times when I just wish could have it all--all the wonderful things here in Illinois and the people I was close to in California; all at the same time. I haven't seen my family since June and this is the longest I've ever gone without checking in with them.
I wish I could be there to see my sister smiling and laughing and celebrating her birthday. I wish I could be more than a gift card inside a greeting card this year. Devon and I are always laughing when we are together--the way that sisters do best. Most of the time we are laughing about ourselves and things that no one else in the world would think is funny--or even understand. Like our pet/intruder turkies, or the other wildlife we came across in our various adventures. Or the time we were so frightened by what turned out to be a piece of paper that we ended up falling to the floor in terror/hysteria. Or the time that D got locked in her own bathroom without ever locking the door. It took hours to free her and the whole time we could hardly speak we were laughing so hard.
My sister and I are nothing alike. Almost every aspect of us is opposite from the other--but somehow that makes us fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces. Where on protrudes out, the other caves in. We are seven years apart and if anyone ever asks me, it's the perfect gap in age for two sisters. I got to watch her grow up and change and turn into the person she is today. And I got to do that from the most unique perspective--as someone older than her peers but younger than her parents. Such a perfect place to be a big sister.
I'm so proud of Devon and all that she's accomplished. She is such a kind person with a great head on her shoulders. Devon is the kind of person that is easy to be around--and that cannot be said about just anyone. She follows through with everything she starts and I really admire that about her. Getting to watch her grow up was a privelage but it makes it hard on days like this to be away from her. Her turning 21 sort of feels like she's not little anymore. I know she'll always be my little sister but I guess that gap sort of narrows more and more with each passing year. I know that sounds like a good thing, and it is--but it's just odd thinking of her as all grown up. I know she doesn't need the kind of guidance she did when she was younger. I'm so grateful for the person she turned out to be and so proud to know her.
Someone else put this into much better words than I ever could:
Sister
Dave Matthews
Passing time with you in mind
It's a another quiet night
Feel the ground against my back
Counting stars against the black
Thinking bout another day
Wishing I was far away
Whereever I dreamed I was
You were there with me
Sister, I hear you laugh
My heart fills full up
Keep me please
Sister, when you cry I feel your tears running down my face
Sister, Sister, you keep me
I hope you always know its true
I would never make it through
You could make the sun go dark
Just by walking away
Playing like we used to play
Like it would never go away
Feel you beating in my chest
I'll be dead without
Sister, I hear you laugh
My heart fills full up
Keep me please
Sister, and when you cry I feel your tears
running down my face
Sister, Sister you keep me
I would never make it through
Hope you always know its true
You could make the heaven's fall
Just by walking away
Sister, oh when you laugh
My heart fills full up
Keep me please
Sister, when you cry I feel your tears
running down my face
Sister, Sister, you keep me
I wish I could be there to see my sister smiling and laughing and celebrating her birthday. I wish I could be more than a gift card inside a greeting card this year. Devon and I are always laughing when we are together--the way that sisters do best. Most of the time we are laughing about ourselves and things that no one else in the world would think is funny--or even understand. Like our pet/intruder turkies, or the other wildlife we came across in our various adventures. Or the time we were so frightened by what turned out to be a piece of paper that we ended up falling to the floor in terror/hysteria. Or the time that D got locked in her own bathroom without ever locking the door. It took hours to free her and the whole time we could hardly speak we were laughing so hard.
My sister and I are nothing alike. Almost every aspect of us is opposite from the other--but somehow that makes us fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces. Where on protrudes out, the other caves in. We are seven years apart and if anyone ever asks me, it's the perfect gap in age for two sisters. I got to watch her grow up and change and turn into the person she is today. And I got to do that from the most unique perspective--as someone older than her peers but younger than her parents. Such a perfect place to be a big sister.
I'm so proud of Devon and all that she's accomplished. She is such a kind person with a great head on her shoulders. Devon is the kind of person that is easy to be around--and that cannot be said about just anyone. She follows through with everything she starts and I really admire that about her. Getting to watch her grow up was a privelage but it makes it hard on days like this to be away from her. Her turning 21 sort of feels like she's not little anymore. I know she'll always be my little sister but I guess that gap sort of narrows more and more with each passing year. I know that sounds like a good thing, and it is--but it's just odd thinking of her as all grown up. I know she doesn't need the kind of guidance she did when she was younger. I'm so grateful for the person she turned out to be and so proud to know her.
Someone else put this into much better words than I ever could:
Sister
Dave Matthews
Passing time with you in mind
It's a another quiet night
Feel the ground against my back
Counting stars against the black
Thinking bout another day
Wishing I was far away
Whereever I dreamed I was
You were there with me
Sister, I hear you laugh
My heart fills full up
Keep me please
Sister, when you cry I feel your tears running down my face
Sister, Sister, you keep me
I hope you always know its true
I would never make it through
You could make the sun go dark
Just by walking away
Playing like we used to play
Like it would never go away
Feel you beating in my chest
I'll be dead without
Sister, I hear you laugh
My heart fills full up
Keep me please
Sister, and when you cry I feel your tears
running down my face
Sister, Sister you keep me
I would never make it through
Hope you always know its true
You could make the heaven's fall
Just by walking away
Sister, oh when you laugh
My heart fills full up
Keep me please
Sister, when you cry I feel your tears
running down my face
Sister, Sister, you keep me
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Peace on Ice.
This past Sunday, as ESPN reminded us over and over and over again, Yankee stadium hosted its last Major League Baseball game. Sometimes ESPN and the sports media makes a bigger deal out of things than they really are, but I admit, this is a big deal. Yankee stadium has hosted an unbelievable amount of historical events. Players upon players, teams upon teams have graced that field. Generations of fans have taken their seat and experienced the myriad of emotions that go along with loving a sports team.
What I would like to point out is that whether we live in New York or not, whether we are fans of baseball or not, we ALL have a Yankee Stadium. We all have a place, that sometimes feels more like home than the place we lay our head every night. The players on a team may be traded or grow old and retire. Coaches and GM's get fired. The uniforms may get a new, fresh look. Even the rules of the game may change over the year. But the building that houses all of this--that is a sacred place for sports fans and it doesn't have to be an infamous stadium in the most famous city in the world. It just has to be home. Mine is the Shark Tank.
Once when I was going through a rough period in my life, I was seeing a therapist. During one session, she asked me to close my eyes and think of a place where I was completely at peace. Instantly, my instincts took me 525 West Santa Clara Street. My reaction was how odd it was that when I was asked to go to the most peaceful place I knew, my mind immediately went to a building with a blaring sound system, fog horns, flashing lights and thousands of screaming fans. But that was it. That is peace to me. 14 years old, me and my dad, sitting in our season ticket seats in the upper level, with the guys with the smelly sandwiches sitting next to us. Watching Jeff Odgers get in front of the net. My dad screaming "Minus-9 Wayne!" to the Great One when the Kings were in town. Enter Sandman. The Sharks Head with steaming red eyes. The Chomp on Power Plays. The "Hey" song when we scored. That is my peace.
I've been lots of other hockey games in lots of other arenas and I enjoy them all. I've even been on the staff at the San Jose Arena and had the opportunity to see the game from every plausible angle in the Arena. I've even been so fortunate enough to cover a playoff game from the press box. None of it compares to being 14 years old, being there for every game with my pops with me, teaching me about the greatest sport on earth. For me, Yankee Stadium will never hold a candle to the Tank.
What I would like to point out is that whether we live in New York or not, whether we are fans of baseball or not, we ALL have a Yankee Stadium. We all have a place, that sometimes feels more like home than the place we lay our head every night. The players on a team may be traded or grow old and retire. Coaches and GM's get fired. The uniforms may get a new, fresh look. Even the rules of the game may change over the year. But the building that houses all of this--that is a sacred place for sports fans and it doesn't have to be an infamous stadium in the most famous city in the world. It just has to be home. Mine is the Shark Tank.
Once when I was going through a rough period in my life, I was seeing a therapist. During one session, she asked me to close my eyes and think of a place where I was completely at peace. Instantly, my instincts took me 525 West Santa Clara Street. My reaction was how odd it was that when I was asked to go to the most peaceful place I knew, my mind immediately went to a building with a blaring sound system, fog horns, flashing lights and thousands of screaming fans. But that was it. That is peace to me. 14 years old, me and my dad, sitting in our season ticket seats in the upper level, with the guys with the smelly sandwiches sitting next to us. Watching Jeff Odgers get in front of the net. My dad screaming "Minus-9 Wayne!" to the Great One when the Kings were in town. Enter Sandman. The Sharks Head with steaming red eyes. The Chomp on Power Plays. The "Hey" song when we scored. That is my peace.
I've been lots of other hockey games in lots of other arenas and I enjoy them all. I've even been on the staff at the San Jose Arena and had the opportunity to see the game from every plausible angle in the Arena. I've even been so fortunate enough to cover a playoff game from the press box. None of it compares to being 14 years old, being there for every game with my pops with me, teaching me about the greatest sport on earth. For me, Yankee Stadium will never hold a candle to the Tank.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Water.
I love rainy days. There is something so refreshing, so peaceful. For me, the rain feels like a comforting blanket, reminding me there are clouds not too far off, some substance between me and an endless eternity of atmosphere and outer space
Today was a great rainy day. Here in the midwest, it rains quite a bit during the summer months. Something I was not used to in drought-ridden California. But the rain in the summer comes for a couple hours at a time, usually in the later afternoon/early evening when a thunderstorm or two rolls through. I love thunderstorms, too, but I don't consider those rainy days. Today, I woke up to gentle sprinkles and the smell of freshness outside. All day, it just kept sprinkling, soft rains, with intermittent strong down pours now and then. Steady, sure, water. Next to my window at work there is a creek that I love watching grow higher and higher as the rain continues.
The funny thing to me about rain is that it always reminds me of swimming (of all things.) I swam for years and years, and probably only rained about 10% of the days I swam. But for some reason, whenever I think about my happiest times at swim practice, I think of days just like this. I honestly don't know why. I just loved swimming in the rain. I can remember long days of school, making my way through giant puddles on the hilly campus at my high school--my jeans soaked up to my knees; hair all damp and curly from the wet. I'd sit in my sixth period journalism class just craving swim practice. It was as if the water was taunting me all day, not allowing me to be fully immersed yet and I couldn't wait to get to the pool. And for some reason, I always remember--rainy night practices never felt very tough. I know we swam the same amount of yardage and worked just hard, but for some reason, I always made my way through those practices with more ease than usual.
I like being reminded of how much I loved to swim. Sometimes I forget what a huge part of my life swimming was. So much of who I am now--many of my friends, even my family--revolved around swimming. I love that I swam and that my sister swam. I love that she swam longer and harder and better than I ever did. I'm very proud of her for that and I think she is a great person for all the effort she put into swimming.
I think anyone who participated in youth sports can relate to what I am saying. Whether yours was a swimming family, a soccer family, a hockey family, a baseball family, a judo family or a mixture of a whole bunch of sports--so much of our foundations are built during youth sports. I love, love, love that about youth sports. And I'm happy this rainy day reminded me of that.
Today was a great rainy day. Here in the midwest, it rains quite a bit during the summer months. Something I was not used to in drought-ridden California. But the rain in the summer comes for a couple hours at a time, usually in the later afternoon/early evening when a thunderstorm or two rolls through. I love thunderstorms, too, but I don't consider those rainy days. Today, I woke up to gentle sprinkles and the smell of freshness outside. All day, it just kept sprinkling, soft rains, with intermittent strong down pours now and then. Steady, sure, water. Next to my window at work there is a creek that I love watching grow higher and higher as the rain continues.
The funny thing to me about rain is that it always reminds me of swimming (of all things.) I swam for years and years, and probably only rained about 10% of the days I swam. But for some reason, whenever I think about my happiest times at swim practice, I think of days just like this. I honestly don't know why. I just loved swimming in the rain. I can remember long days of school, making my way through giant puddles on the hilly campus at my high school--my jeans soaked up to my knees; hair all damp and curly from the wet. I'd sit in my sixth period journalism class just craving swim practice. It was as if the water was taunting me all day, not allowing me to be fully immersed yet and I couldn't wait to get to the pool. And for some reason, I always remember--rainy night practices never felt very tough. I know we swam the same amount of yardage and worked just hard, but for some reason, I always made my way through those practices with more ease than usual.
I like being reminded of how much I loved to swim. Sometimes I forget what a huge part of my life swimming was. So much of who I am now--many of my friends, even my family--revolved around swimming. I love that I swam and that my sister swam. I love that she swam longer and harder and better than I ever did. I'm very proud of her for that and I think she is a great person for all the effort she put into swimming.
I think anyone who participated in youth sports can relate to what I am saying. Whether yours was a swimming family, a soccer family, a hockey family, a baseball family, a judo family or a mixture of a whole bunch of sports--so much of our foundations are built during youth sports. I love, love, love that about youth sports. And I'm happy this rainy day reminded me of that.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Worry.
There are certain personality traits I possess that I often wish I could change, to reverse, or possibly just get rid of completely. I realize I am not unique in having this feeling, but sometimes it can be a very lonely sensation. When something is so ingrained in me, to the point where it no longer feels like something that I behold, but rather that I am contained within, it can be a desperate experience to attempt escape from the very personality that makes me who I am.
I am a worrier. I worry about absolutely everything. I worry about the little details in day-to-day life (is the front door locked? did I turn off the stove? did I set my alarm? is the cat getting a cold? am I sure the front door is locked? what order should I do my homework assignments in tonight? how much sleep can I get in tonight? what do I have to remember to do when I get into work tomorrow? do I need to stop for gas on the way to work? should i check the front door again to make sure it is locked? did I remember to feed the cats? wait, what time did I set the alarm for? ... and on and on and on.) I also worry about the bigger things, the less controllable things (will someone I love get in a car accident today? will there ever be enough money so I can stop thinking about money? what if I fail at this attempt to go back to school? what if my car breaks down? what if I lose my job? what if I get sick--really sick? what if I fail at my relationship? what if I never stop worrying?)
Worry is more than just fleating thoughts in my mind. Worry is my constant inner dialogue.
It's easy to say, "Just chill out. Stop worrying so much." People tell me this all the time and I tell myself this even more often. But the fact of the matter is telling myself to stop worrying is like telling someone to stop liking their favorite ice cream flavor or to stop enjoying their favorite song. It may be possible on the surface to act like you no longer like your favorite song, but deep down you can't change the way you feel about something on demand. I can act like I am not worried, sometimes I can even briefly convince myself that I am not actually worried, but it is only an act. Obsessing about the little details--planning and preparing for every possible circumstance--those are pseudo ways to feel slightly more in control of my life. I tell myself over and over again "Don't sweat the small stuff" but to no avail. I only end up feeling guilty for sweating the small stuff, and then worrying more about what is wrong with me that I can't force myself to stop sweating the small stuff. So I accept, over and over again, that worry is part of who I am.
I am so envious of those who don't worry every waking moment. Those who can go-with-the-flow without analyzing to death the possible repercussions. Those who can fall asleep within five minutes of their head hitting the pillow because they aren't kept awake by their own thoughts about the possibility of a fire starting in the middle of the night. Don't get me wrong--I don't look at these people and think their lives are any easier than mine. I realize each human being faces their own unique set of challenges. I do, however, look at these people and think that maybe they enjoy things in their life more than I do. So many times I will be experiencing something that should evoke only pure joy, yet that little voice in my brain will not allow me to really immerse myself fully in the experience. (This roller coaster is thrilling, but what if my seat restraint suddenly snaps? This movie is awesome, but what if I have to pee before the movie ends? This is a great concert, but what if we get stuck in traffic after the show? What a fun night out with my friends, but what if I am too tired to clean the house tomorrow?) I live in constant anticipation of what might be coming next. I'm never fully in the moment despite desperately wishing I could be.
Yes, there are medications for this and I have tried them out before. But how would you like a medication that shuts off the portion of your personality that likes your best friend or the part of your brain that tells you green is your favorite color? You would never want that portion of your personality shut off right? The fact of the matter is, having a portion of your personality eliminated (even a negative one) is a terrible sensation. Nothing fills up that missing part of you. There is just an emptiness there. A piece of myself that is gone. My personal choice is not to give up any part of me. This leaves me to deal with the reality that I will worry. I will worry every day, every hour, every minute (even in my sleep!)
Part of why I love sports so much is because the essence of sports is such a magical mixture of both planning and spontaneity. Players are drafted based on careful analysis, plays are drawn up based on extreme scrutiny of the opposition, back up plans are formed, and predictions of winners are made. But then they play the game. Then they run the race. And all the planning and preparation are tested and either proven right or they go down the drain. We watch hours and hours of analysts discussing the preseason rankings of teams and then the games are played and some team ranked 55th beats the number one seed. We discuss our fantasy football strategy for hours and the top quarterback in the league tears his ACL in the first game of the season. The greatest golfer in history is poised for his best season ever, and then goes down with a bum knee--but before winning a major tournament that everyone says he can't possibly win on a bum knee. What is expected to happen, what is "supposed" to happen, sometimes does happen. But the really compelling stories come about when what was never supposed to happen happens.
I love that about sports. I just wish I could love that about my own life. One of my favorite quotes of all time is, "We make plans, and God laughs." I'm not a very religious person, but the idea of this is so telling of every aspect of life. Planning, preparation, worry--those can only take me so far before reality takes over and does whatever the hell it wants.
I am a worrier. I worry about absolutely everything. I worry about the little details in day-to-day life (is the front door locked? did I turn off the stove? did I set my alarm? is the cat getting a cold? am I sure the front door is locked? what order should I do my homework assignments in tonight? how much sleep can I get in tonight? what do I have to remember to do when I get into work tomorrow? do I need to stop for gas on the way to work? should i check the front door again to make sure it is locked? did I remember to feed the cats? wait, what time did I set the alarm for? ... and on and on and on.) I also worry about the bigger things, the less controllable things (will someone I love get in a car accident today? will there ever be enough money so I can stop thinking about money? what if I fail at this attempt to go back to school? what if my car breaks down? what if I lose my job? what if I get sick--really sick? what if I fail at my relationship? what if I never stop worrying?)
Worry is more than just fleating thoughts in my mind. Worry is my constant inner dialogue.
It's easy to say, "Just chill out. Stop worrying so much." People tell me this all the time and I tell myself this even more often. But the fact of the matter is telling myself to stop worrying is like telling someone to stop liking their favorite ice cream flavor or to stop enjoying their favorite song. It may be possible on the surface to act like you no longer like your favorite song, but deep down you can't change the way you feel about something on demand. I can act like I am not worried, sometimes I can even briefly convince myself that I am not actually worried, but it is only an act. Obsessing about the little details--planning and preparing for every possible circumstance--those are pseudo ways to feel slightly more in control of my life. I tell myself over and over again "Don't sweat the small stuff" but to no avail. I only end up feeling guilty for sweating the small stuff, and then worrying more about what is wrong with me that I can't force myself to stop sweating the small stuff. So I accept, over and over again, that worry is part of who I am.
I am so envious of those who don't worry every waking moment. Those who can go-with-the-flow without analyzing to death the possible repercussions. Those who can fall asleep within five minutes of their head hitting the pillow because they aren't kept awake by their own thoughts about the possibility of a fire starting in the middle of the night. Don't get me wrong--I don't look at these people and think their lives are any easier than mine. I realize each human being faces their own unique set of challenges. I do, however, look at these people and think that maybe they enjoy things in their life more than I do. So many times I will be experiencing something that should evoke only pure joy, yet that little voice in my brain will not allow me to really immerse myself fully in the experience. (This roller coaster is thrilling, but what if my seat restraint suddenly snaps? This movie is awesome, but what if I have to pee before the movie ends? This is a great concert, but what if we get stuck in traffic after the show? What a fun night out with my friends, but what if I am too tired to clean the house tomorrow?) I live in constant anticipation of what might be coming next. I'm never fully in the moment despite desperately wishing I could be.
Yes, there are medications for this and I have tried them out before. But how would you like a medication that shuts off the portion of your personality that likes your best friend or the part of your brain that tells you green is your favorite color? You would never want that portion of your personality shut off right? The fact of the matter is, having a portion of your personality eliminated (even a negative one) is a terrible sensation. Nothing fills up that missing part of you. There is just an emptiness there. A piece of myself that is gone. My personal choice is not to give up any part of me. This leaves me to deal with the reality that I will worry. I will worry every day, every hour, every minute (even in my sleep!)
Part of why I love sports so much is because the essence of sports is such a magical mixture of both planning and spontaneity. Players are drafted based on careful analysis, plays are drawn up based on extreme scrutiny of the opposition, back up plans are formed, and predictions of winners are made. But then they play the game. Then they run the race. And all the planning and preparation are tested and either proven right or they go down the drain. We watch hours and hours of analysts discussing the preseason rankings of teams and then the games are played and some team ranked 55th beats the number one seed. We discuss our fantasy football strategy for hours and the top quarterback in the league tears his ACL in the first game of the season. The greatest golfer in history is poised for his best season ever, and then goes down with a bum knee--but before winning a major tournament that everyone says he can't possibly win on a bum knee. What is expected to happen, what is "supposed" to happen, sometimes does happen. But the really compelling stories come about when what was never supposed to happen happens.
I love that about sports. I just wish I could love that about my own life. One of my favorite quotes of all time is, "We make plans, and God laughs." I'm not a very religious person, but the idea of this is so telling of every aspect of life. Planning, preparation, worry--those can only take me so far before reality takes over and does whatever the hell it wants.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Better Than You.
Life's lessons begin very young. As you know, I am a sports-lover and one of the reasons I love sports so much is I believe many of life's important lessons can be taught through both team and individual sports. Recently, a group of Little League players were robbed of one of those lessons.
A nine-year old Little League player in New Haven, Connecticut named Jericho Scott was banned from playing because he was too good of a pitcher. Scott never hit or injured anyone with his pitches, but opposing parents complained that he was just too good to face their children. When Scott and his coach refused to except the ban and he showed up on the mound, the opposing team's coach decided to forfeit the game. This bothers me immensely.
When I was about seven or eight years old, I had lost a race in swimming and was very upset. I was crying and my dad took me aside and explained something to me that I am extremely thankful for. This lesson my sound harsh, but it has always stuck with me and has extended into situations in the real world other than just sports. My dad said to me that day, "No matter how good you do, there will always be someone in the world who will be better than you." Now, some may say this is a very negative thing to tell a child of seven or eight years old. But it was not meant to be taken that way at all, and even at a young age, I understood what my dad went on to explain. He said (and I paraphrase since it was a couple decades ago), "You will win sometimes, maybe even a lot of the times. But there will be times, there will be races when you don't win. There will be people who are better than you at swimming or soccer or school. They may be better than you every once in a while or they may be better than you most of the time. That is Okay. You do not compete only to win. You try to win, but the most important thing is that you do YOUR best. You can use losing as a motivation but always keep in mind that no matter how hard you work, you may still finish second, or third, or maybe even last some of the time."
Again, there are those who might think this is harsh. But you know what? It's reality. And I think it's the kind of reality we all need to experience. In the case of New Haven's Little League game, when the opposing coach forfeited the game because another player was too good, what did that teach those kids? That if you lose, or if you don't get your way you should quit.
Now, in Scott's case, I think there are alternatives such as giving him the option to compete in a higher age-group or for a more advance league if there is one available. But in the end, he is nine years old. If he wants to compete with peers of his own age and he is not endangering them, then that is his choice and it should be allowed.
It seems that people are often so worried about hurting a child's feelings that they shut them off from crucial lessons about life. Sure, it would be wonderful if our children were the very best athletes, scholars, musicians, etc. But we all know that NO ONE can possibly be the best at everything, and most people will never be the very best at anything. It's so important to teach our children to work hard just for the sake of working hard. For SELF-FULFILLMENT. Not for trophies, awards, first-place ribbons. Those things are wonderful, but if they are the only thing a child works for there will be a rough road ahead when the accolades run out.
A nine-year old Little League player in New Haven, Connecticut named Jericho Scott was banned from playing because he was too good of a pitcher. Scott never hit or injured anyone with his pitches, but opposing parents complained that he was just too good to face their children. When Scott and his coach refused to except the ban and he showed up on the mound, the opposing team's coach decided to forfeit the game. This bothers me immensely.
When I was about seven or eight years old, I had lost a race in swimming and was very upset. I was crying and my dad took me aside and explained something to me that I am extremely thankful for. This lesson my sound harsh, but it has always stuck with me and has extended into situations in the real world other than just sports. My dad said to me that day, "No matter how good you do, there will always be someone in the world who will be better than you." Now, some may say this is a very negative thing to tell a child of seven or eight years old. But it was not meant to be taken that way at all, and even at a young age, I understood what my dad went on to explain. He said (and I paraphrase since it was a couple decades ago), "You will win sometimes, maybe even a lot of the times. But there will be times, there will be races when you don't win. There will be people who are better than you at swimming or soccer or school. They may be better than you every once in a while or they may be better than you most of the time. That is Okay. You do not compete only to win. You try to win, but the most important thing is that you do YOUR best. You can use losing as a motivation but always keep in mind that no matter how hard you work, you may still finish second, or third, or maybe even last some of the time."
Again, there are those who might think this is harsh. But you know what? It's reality. And I think it's the kind of reality we all need to experience. In the case of New Haven's Little League game, when the opposing coach forfeited the game because another player was too good, what did that teach those kids? That if you lose, or if you don't get your way you should quit.
Now, in Scott's case, I think there are alternatives such as giving him the option to compete in a higher age-group or for a more advance league if there is one available. But in the end, he is nine years old. If he wants to compete with peers of his own age and he is not endangering them, then that is his choice and it should be allowed.
It seems that people are often so worried about hurting a child's feelings that they shut them off from crucial lessons about life. Sure, it would be wonderful if our children were the very best athletes, scholars, musicians, etc. But we all know that NO ONE can possibly be the best at everything, and most people will never be the very best at anything. It's so important to teach our children to work hard just for the sake of working hard. For SELF-FULFILLMENT. Not for trophies, awards, first-place ribbons. Those things are wonderful, but if they are the only thing a child works for there will be a rough road ahead when the accolades run out.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
It has been a couple weeks since the Sharks exited the Stanley Cup Playoffs and I think I have finally reached the acceptance stage. Like the Sharks' General Manager, Doug Wilson, I have given it some time before reacting (well at least reacting in the written form) so what I write now is not based solely on emotions. With that, here are some thoughts on the playoffs so far:
1. Here is a few of the players the Sharks have said goodbye to in the last few years: Mike Ricci, Scott Thornton, Todd Harvey, Mark Smith, Matt Bradley, Marco Sturm. Now, some of these players left via free agency and others left as part of trades. Most of these players were third or fourth line players whose exits led to the additions of seemingly more talented players. However, while talent is necessary on any winning team, these players each provided the character I believe is missing from the Sharks' current squad. While I am not arguing with the release and/or trade of any of the above players, I think the collective loss is something the team is now starting to realize. We have few, if any, players like these any more. Who show up every single night with unrelenting effort...with heart. San Jose needs to find more of this if there is any hope of winning it all in the near future.
2. It was time for Ron Wilson to be fired. I don't think it was a surprise to anyone and in my opinion, it was for the best. Wilson was a great coach and he will go on to be a great coach again. But Wilson was an X's and O's kinda guy, and the Sharks have the X's and O's down. What San Jose needs now is the X-factor. I do not believe Wilson is the only person to blame for the Sharks' poor performance in the playoffs but changes need to be made and those changes have to start at the top.
3. The Sharks did not deserve to win, but the Dallas Stars' fans do not deserve to see their team win. I witnessed these fans in person at the American Airlines Center for the closing regular season game. This game had over 90 minutes of penalties in the first period. Dallas won the game, and still they were the most pathetic fans I have ever seen. It was as if someone put Valium in the arena's fountain drink dispensers. I was in awe, and slightly embarrassed for the fans. Although Andy will kill me for saying this, I am really hoping Detroit finishes the Stars off in the conference finals. I've always disliked Dallas due to the Pacific Division rivalry with the Sharks, but after my visit to the AA Center I don't have much respect for that team at all.
4. I guess I am rooting for the Pittsburgh Penguins. I am not thrilled about this. But I can't really justify rooting for either Western Conference hopeful representative, so I guess the Pens will have to do. I don't really have much against the team itself, I just can't stand how the NHL shoves them down our throats all year long. And it drives me crazy that Sidney Crosby is the only young star marketed to the casual fan when there many others in the league. My dad put it perfectly when he said, "I'll root for the Penguins this year but after they win they are going to be pretty obnoxious."
5. Stepping away from hockey to close... I love watching the triple-crown horse races. I really pay no attention to racing the rest of the year, but the Kentucky Derby, Preakness and Belmont are just so darn exciting. I must admit, I shed a tear for Eight Belles two weeks ago. I was so excited for the great race she ran and then all of the sudden she went down. It was heartbreaking. As for Big Brown, he's won the first two as of yesterday and in three weeks he will look to be the first horse since 1977 to win the triple-crown. For some reason, I really don't want to see that happen. Nothing against Big Brown at all but I just like the idea of something being almost impossible to attain. In my living room, I have the famous photo of Secretariat topping off the triple-crown with a 33-length victory in the 1973 hanging on my wall. I guess I am a traditionalist who just likes the idea of a moment like that staying unique. That being said, I think Big Brown will probably pull it off in three weeks.
That's all for now. Be good you all and watch your hockey.
1. Here is a few of the players the Sharks have said goodbye to in the last few years: Mike Ricci, Scott Thornton, Todd Harvey, Mark Smith, Matt Bradley, Marco Sturm. Now, some of these players left via free agency and others left as part of trades. Most of these players were third or fourth line players whose exits led to the additions of seemingly more talented players. However, while talent is necessary on any winning team, these players each provided the character I believe is missing from the Sharks' current squad. While I am not arguing with the release and/or trade of any of the above players, I think the collective loss is something the team is now starting to realize. We have few, if any, players like these any more. Who show up every single night with unrelenting effort...with heart. San Jose needs to find more of this if there is any hope of winning it all in the near future.
2. It was time for Ron Wilson to be fired. I don't think it was a surprise to anyone and in my opinion, it was for the best. Wilson was a great coach and he will go on to be a great coach again. But Wilson was an X's and O's kinda guy, and the Sharks have the X's and O's down. What San Jose needs now is the X-factor. I do not believe Wilson is the only person to blame for the Sharks' poor performance in the playoffs but changes need to be made and those changes have to start at the top.
3. The Sharks did not deserve to win, but the Dallas Stars' fans do not deserve to see their team win. I witnessed these fans in person at the American Airlines Center for the closing regular season game. This game had over 90 minutes of penalties in the first period. Dallas won the game, and still they were the most pathetic fans I have ever seen. It was as if someone put Valium in the arena's fountain drink dispensers. I was in awe, and slightly embarrassed for the fans. Although Andy will kill me for saying this, I am really hoping Detroit finishes the Stars off in the conference finals. I've always disliked Dallas due to the Pacific Division rivalry with the Sharks, but after my visit to the AA Center I don't have much respect for that team at all.
4. I guess I am rooting for the Pittsburgh Penguins. I am not thrilled about this. But I can't really justify rooting for either Western Conference hopeful representative, so I guess the Pens will have to do. I don't really have much against the team itself, I just can't stand how the NHL shoves them down our throats all year long. And it drives me crazy that Sidney Crosby is the only young star marketed to the casual fan when there many others in the league. My dad put it perfectly when he said, "I'll root for the Penguins this year but after they win they are going to be pretty obnoxious."
5. Stepping away from hockey to close... I love watching the triple-crown horse races. I really pay no attention to racing the rest of the year, but the Kentucky Derby, Preakness and Belmont are just so darn exciting. I must admit, I shed a tear for Eight Belles two weeks ago. I was so excited for the great race she ran and then all of the sudden she went down. It was heartbreaking. As for Big Brown, he's won the first two as of yesterday and in three weeks he will look to be the first horse since 1977 to win the triple-crown. For some reason, I really don't want to see that happen. Nothing against Big Brown at all but I just like the idea of something being almost impossible to attain. In my living room, I have the famous photo of Secretariat topping off the triple-crown with a 33-length victory in the 1973 hanging on my wall. I guess I am a traditionalist who just likes the idea of a moment like that staying unique. That being said, I think Big Brown will probably pull it off in three weeks.
That's all for now. Be good you all and watch your hockey.
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