I remember talking to a (then) co-worker during my internship about the burden of insight. At the time, we were talking about it in a negative context- that is, a person was not functioning very well in their job despite numerous instances of feedback, critiques, and reprimands because they weren't able to deduce that what they were doing or the way in which they were doing it was wrong. The guy just literally could not understand the concepts of the correction- because in his mind, there was no wrong the be righted.
In recent weeks, I've been thinking about this concept, and applying it in a much broader scope- and honestly, sometimes I think that this would be a nice state of mind. It might be kind of nice to not really be aware of what is going on. 'Ignorance is bliss', it is said. And really, they might just be right.
I spend most of my days hanging out with my kids, so I admit that I may have a little bit of a skew to my perspective. I mean, I spend my days watching children's television, coloring pictures, and playing pretend. Forget the gray- it's all black and white, baby! And pink and powder blue, too!
I realize that life is, in no way, shape, form, etc., never going to play out like an episode of Dora. "Bad guys" (whatever that term means, seriously) are never going to cease and desist because we incant a plea three times. We don't get a talking/singing map to help us plan our journeys. We aren't administered a stock magic backpack that is sure to contain at least one item that we need at any given moment. And we certainly don't hang out with near-naked primates. (I am sorry if I am assuming anything about your pets)
But still- having insight can be such a bother. Because then we start to think about things, and we start to allow ideas and thoughts to take hold in our mind. I'm not saying thinking is bad- believe me, you won't find me burning books to suppress knowledge- but what I am saying is that often times, my thoughts can warp my perception and leave me vulnerable to hopelessness and despair.
I think about things in the world- the events unfolding before us, as we see entire governments thrown down in a state of worldwide unrest. Even on the home front, the cracks in the foundation are beginning to show. And I think sometimes, wouldn't it be nice to just live in a corner of the world somewhere, oblivious to what's going on? Just going about the normal day-to-day routine, just living and spending time with family?
I think about all the weights and cares that are superficially placed on us. We owe thousands of dollars to faceless corporations. We are not the masters of our own destiny- we are slaves to a system that survives on the sweat of our labor. Right now, we live in a primarily tertiary (service) economy. This is not a system that is building a better human being- it's a system that actually, in my opinion, reduces our humanity by robbing us of our base abilities to survive apart from the system. We may not be plugged into machines- but we're not all that far removed from being in The Matrix, either. And then I think, maybe the steak isn't real- but who cares? We're eating steak, right?
Look, I'm as big a fan of insight as anyone. Because of the nature of humans and the systems we create to naturally drift to homeostasis, insight can provide the spark that leads to meaningful change. Insight can help us to compartmentalize the world around us, and realize that while the big picture moves forward that we are still responsible to take care of our part of the puzzle. Having knowledge and a general sense of awareness (even one in the stages of genesis) is wonderful, and really I wouldn't trade it for anything.
But along with that comes the burden. The burden that we know that we cannot always trust the actions or words of others- no matter their rank or station. The burden that we realize that we have much less control of our lives than we are led to believe. The burden of knowing that many of the pillars our society is made of are made of wet cardboard, just waiting for a windstorm to come and blow them all down.
Look at the nuclear event in Japan. Here is something that completely blindsided those poor people because of a natural catastrophic event. The initial assessments were that it was "serious" but likely to be contained fairly quickly- definitely not the next Chernobyl, is what we were told. And then the situation began to spiral out of control, and radiation began to leak, and soon they were calling this the biggest nuclear event since Chernobyl, and radiation had got in the tap water and Tokyo was running out of bottled water. Hard to believe that mere weeks ago, lives were being lived in much the same manner as I live mind today.
Apologies for the ramblingness. Often times, I'm able to sort things out in my head before I blog- or at least during the blog itself. Right now, I'm not 100% confident that I've done that. I'm not even sure if I have a point. How's that for a conclusion?
Friday, March 25, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
March Sadness
(Editors note: Well, I am technically the editor, but I'm also the writer. So that might be a conflict of interest. But here's my note. I purposefully avoided using the word 'ironically' at least two or three times in this piece because people say that it is being used wrong, and I think I might be a part of the problem. So just so you are all aware that yes, I do sometimes try and take my writing skills a little bit seriously)
Oddly enough, merely one day after writing my award-winning exposition on the Fab Five (and you really don't even need to know what award- just trust me, it's there), I am now writing the sequel: How I Used To Love Basketball But Now Really Don't.
Those that know me well would probably be very shocked for me to admit this. It is almost like I'm admitting that I'm dead. After all, I used to play ball several times a week. I was not necessarily dipping into the hyperbole pool when I said yesterday that I video-taped the entire 2000-2001 season (probably 60-70 video tapes worth of college basketball from that year are now sitting in my parents garage). I listened to hip-hop. I bought And 1 attire. I wore Nike socks, wrist bands, and college jerseys. I played the video games, I filled out the brackets- I wasn't a dabbler, I was an immerseder.
But now- well, I almost didn't even do a bracket this year. Yes, you read that correctly. Please back away from your computer, stop working on heavy machinery, have a seat on a sanctioned comfortable chair, and ponder those words for a second. I almost didn't even do a bracket this year. Everybody does brackets. It's the cool thing to do. Even people that don't know anything about anything do brackets. I'm pretty sure even Balky did a bracket.
Besides, I've always done a bracket in the past. It's a family tradition- we all fill out a bracket and then see who ends up prognostically sucking the least. This year...I almost let that tradition slip. My lil sis saved the day and asked if I was going to do one, and eventually I did (note: I picked Kansas to win before President Obama...which probably means that I am still on The List).
I am really not sure when I really stopped being a die-hard basketball junkie. As with my break-up with Michigan football, there was no one straw that broke the camel's back. It was more likely a very large collection of lead straws that were unceremoniously dropped from the top of a tall building right smack on the came when he was bending over to get a drink of water.
First off, maybe I'm just old fashioned a bit (and now that I'm into my 30's, I feel like I can start saying that), but there are just way too many tattoos right now. It's seriously a distraction. I want to just watch and enjoy the game, but I find myself trying to read the tattoos with words, and wondering what the pictures are of and what they mean. And really, how the heck do these kids have enough money to have all of this ink sunk into their epidermis? I understand how Buckeyes kids can- they just beat Michigan and then sell off their special pins- but for most college students, that's not an option.
And I blame LeBron James too. He's not the first (or only) athlete to think and act like he's bigger than the game...but gosh darn it does he annoy me. The whole macho-angry-scowl thing, the talcum powder toss, the Decision, the complaining during his rookie year when he wasn't named to the all-star team- it's ridiculous. I know that it's a little cosmically funny that a Fab Five fan would take such a dislike in this type of behavior- but I experienced the Fab Five through the eyes of a wide-eyed 6th grader. Totally different things. I experienced LeBron James at a time when they were starting to televise high school games on ESPN. No, really. They are.
A big part of it involves my move to da Yoop. Now, I'm not trying to say that Michigan's Upper Peninsula is in anyway some backwater hick operation where they don't play basketball because it's hard to dribble in the snow. The Mackinaw Bridge doesn't suck your hoop skills from you the way that Mega Maid sucks the Oxygen from Planet Druidia. They play basketball here- and I have heard that some of the players- can even dunk. Who woulda guessed?
But I went from having a place to play ball that was only a mile from my house to living in a place that was miles from any sort of civilization (now that is hyperbole and exaggeration, wrapped up in one big ball of 'I'm gonna get to sleep on the couch this week'). It's not that there aren't places to play up here. I just didn't actively seek any out.
Now that I think about it, the fact that I stopped playing is probably a pretty big factor. I realize that there is this intoxicating rhythm to the game of basketball that I deprived myself from for a long time. And as a drummer, rhythm is inherently a part of my moxie. My DNA is double-helixed to 6/8 time. I allowed those soft places of my heart to be filled by other things. By depriving myself of the basketball drug, I became immune to it's sway.
Basketball has this beautiful cadence about it. The bouncing of the ball against the hard wood floor. The squeak of the tennis shoes. The swish of the net. And the eloquence of the motion- a crossover dribble, a behind the back pass, three pointers from the corner, a sweet pick-and-roll...it is certainly a beautiful game, and it's almost sucking me back in...
Except that it can't. Not right now, anyways. Because it hasn't happened during the time of the calender year when it is most likely to have happened.
I've always been a seasonal sports fan for the most part. Football, baseball, basketball, hockey (and we can probably throw soccer in there right now)- I like all of them, but I've always been more of a follower of each one when they're in-season. And with football season recently completed (with the 2011 season in the beginning stages of not being), hockey not quite to the playoffs yet (which is when I really get rolling with that), and baseball still in Spring Training (I usually don't get into baseball until the late summer, when all the other sports are on break), now is usually the time when my basketball fever is in full gear. It's March Madness, baby! Tournament time! The main event!
Unfortunately, it's just not compelling me this year. It could be that all of the really good players leave after their freshmen year. It might be that a bunch of 10+ loss teams were able to score at-large bids. Maybe my heart is two sizes too small. I don't know. But the fact that I have not been sucked into the first weekend of the tournament (yeah, I know they're calling it the "second round", like we're a bunch of morons or something) is not a good sign for hoops, because there is no other time during the year when basketball can be as exciting or compelling as when a bunch of small double-digit seeds are busy beating the big boys on buzzer beaters.
But basketball is not completely dead to me. I do find myself following box scores and reading some game recaps. I have watched a little bit of the tournament. I am following the Miami Heat, like a vulture circling a wounded animal. And my kids are starting to get to that age where their coordination can handle the rigors of dribbling drills and hoisting hundreds of off-season jump shots. Well, not quite to that age yet. But I do think that basketball is probably going to be the first sport I really try to get them in- because it's something that you can do during any season, and it's a pretty easy sport to teach, really. Besides, they are both in the 90th+ percentile for height, and if that keeps going, maybe I can ride the coattails of their future athletic successes and land right on Millionaire Estates.
Anyways, when is the next World Cup, again?
Oddly enough, merely one day after writing my award-winning exposition on the Fab Five (and you really don't even need to know what award- just trust me, it's there), I am now writing the sequel: How I Used To Love Basketball But Now Really Don't.
Those that know me well would probably be very shocked for me to admit this. It is almost like I'm admitting that I'm dead. After all, I used to play ball several times a week. I was not necessarily dipping into the hyperbole pool when I said yesterday that I video-taped the entire 2000-2001 season (probably 60-70 video tapes worth of college basketball from that year are now sitting in my parents garage). I listened to hip-hop. I bought And 1 attire. I wore Nike socks, wrist bands, and college jerseys. I played the video games, I filled out the brackets- I wasn't a dabbler, I was an immerseder.
But now- well, I almost didn't even do a bracket this year. Yes, you read that correctly. Please back away from your computer, stop working on heavy machinery, have a seat on a sanctioned comfortable chair, and ponder those words for a second. I almost didn't even do a bracket this year. Everybody does brackets. It's the cool thing to do. Even people that don't know anything about anything do brackets. I'm pretty sure even Balky did a bracket.
Besides, I've always done a bracket in the past. It's a family tradition- we all fill out a bracket and then see who ends up prognostically sucking the least. This year...I almost let that tradition slip. My lil sis saved the day and asked if I was going to do one, and eventually I did (note: I picked Kansas to win before President Obama...which probably means that I am still on The List).
I am really not sure when I really stopped being a die-hard basketball junkie. As with my break-up with Michigan football, there was no one straw that broke the camel's back. It was more likely a very large collection of lead straws that were unceremoniously dropped from the top of a tall building right smack on the came when he was bending over to get a drink of water.
First off, maybe I'm just old fashioned a bit (and now that I'm into my 30's, I feel like I can start saying that), but there are just way too many tattoos right now. It's seriously a distraction. I want to just watch and enjoy the game, but I find myself trying to read the tattoos with words, and wondering what the pictures are of and what they mean. And really, how the heck do these kids have enough money to have all of this ink sunk into their epidermis? I understand how Buckeyes kids can- they just beat Michigan and then sell off their special pins- but for most college students, that's not an option.
And I blame LeBron James too. He's not the first (or only) athlete to think and act like he's bigger than the game...but gosh darn it does he annoy me. The whole macho-angry-scowl thing, the talcum powder toss, the Decision, the complaining during his rookie year when he wasn't named to the all-star team- it's ridiculous. I know that it's a little cosmically funny that a Fab Five fan would take such a dislike in this type of behavior- but I experienced the Fab Five through the eyes of a wide-eyed 6th grader. Totally different things. I experienced LeBron James at a time when they were starting to televise high school games on ESPN. No, really. They are.
A big part of it involves my move to da Yoop. Now, I'm not trying to say that Michigan's Upper Peninsula is in anyway some backwater hick operation where they don't play basketball because it's hard to dribble in the snow. The Mackinaw Bridge doesn't suck your hoop skills from you the way that Mega Maid sucks the Oxygen from Planet Druidia. They play basketball here- and I have heard that some of the players- can even dunk. Who woulda guessed?
But I went from having a place to play ball that was only a mile from my house to living in a place that was miles from any sort of civilization (now that is hyperbole and exaggeration, wrapped up in one big ball of 'I'm gonna get to sleep on the couch this week'). It's not that there aren't places to play up here. I just didn't actively seek any out.
Now that I think about it, the fact that I stopped playing is probably a pretty big factor. I realize that there is this intoxicating rhythm to the game of basketball that I deprived myself from for a long time. And as a drummer, rhythm is inherently a part of my moxie. My DNA is double-helixed to 6/8 time. I allowed those soft places of my heart to be filled by other things. By depriving myself of the basketball drug, I became immune to it's sway.
Basketball has this beautiful cadence about it. The bouncing of the ball against the hard wood floor. The squeak of the tennis shoes. The swish of the net. And the eloquence of the motion- a crossover dribble, a behind the back pass, three pointers from the corner, a sweet pick-and-roll...it is certainly a beautiful game, and it's almost sucking me back in...
Except that it can't. Not right now, anyways. Because it hasn't happened during the time of the calender year when it is most likely to have happened.
I've always been a seasonal sports fan for the most part. Football, baseball, basketball, hockey (and we can probably throw soccer in there right now)- I like all of them, but I've always been more of a follower of each one when they're in-season. And with football season recently completed (with the 2011 season in the beginning stages of not being), hockey not quite to the playoffs yet (which is when I really get rolling with that), and baseball still in Spring Training (I usually don't get into baseball until the late summer, when all the other sports are on break), now is usually the time when my basketball fever is in full gear. It's March Madness, baby! Tournament time! The main event!
Unfortunately, it's just not compelling me this year. It could be that all of the really good players leave after their freshmen year. It might be that a bunch of 10+ loss teams were able to score at-large bids. Maybe my heart is two sizes too small. I don't know. But the fact that I have not been sucked into the first weekend of the tournament (yeah, I know they're calling it the "second round", like we're a bunch of morons or something) is not a good sign for hoops, because there is no other time during the year when basketball can be as exciting or compelling as when a bunch of small double-digit seeds are busy beating the big boys on buzzer beaters.
But basketball is not completely dead to me. I do find myself following box scores and reading some game recaps. I have watched a little bit of the tournament. I am following the Miami Heat, like a vulture circling a wounded animal. And my kids are starting to get to that age where their coordination can handle the rigors of dribbling drills and hoisting hundreds of off-season jump shots. Well, not quite to that age yet. But I do think that basketball is probably going to be the first sport I really try to get them in- because it's something that you can do during any season, and it's a pretty easy sport to teach, really. Besides, they are both in the 90th+ percentile for height, and if that keeps going, maybe I can ride the coattails of their future athletic successes and land right on Millionaire Estates.
Anyways, when is the next World Cup, again?
Thursday, March 17, 2011
The Fab Five
Last Sunday, I watched the documentary on the Fab Five that aired on ESPN. When I heard about it (while listening to a Bill Simmons podcast with Jalen Rose), I immediately went to my smart phone, accessed the calender feature, and entered the date and time onto my calender. There was absolutely no way I was going to miss this. Yes. I used my digital planner to keep track of a TV show- only because we don't have Tivo.
In the interest of journalistic integrity (although I am neither a journalist nor a person of integrity), I should here admit my rather large bias in assessing the Fab Five documentary. I am a white kid who used to be a die-hard U-M fan, and was in my fresh formative sports years when the Fab Five hit the scene. I understand that I forfeit my objectivity, and I accept that lot. So when I weigh in the documentary itself, as well as the racial discussion it has sparked- I realize the lens that I see through will have some fingerprints on it....and what's this, an eyelash?
Let me just say, I absolutely loved this documentary. It was everything I thought it would be- and more. This was like having nostalgia pumped directly into my blood stream. See I was in 6th grade when the Fab Five started playing collegiate basketball for the University of Michigan. Before then, I was mostly a bookworm who would play in the occasional backyard football game but was by and large not very interested (or knowledgeable) about sports.
I don't want to say that I started shooting hoops because C-Webb was throwing down vicious dunks. And I didn't start watching ESPN all the time because Jalen threw a sweet alley-oop to Jimmy King. But they were definitely a very present entity during that time, and because of the association, they have become permanently etched in my mind as this very mythic entity that destroyed crops and burned villages.
Of course, several articles that I have read, including this one and this one, make reference to the influence of the Fab Five as being overstated- that the early 1980's Georgetown teams were bringing hip/hop blackness to college b-ball a decade before the Wolverines. By and large, I cannot truly comment on that, because I was like 4 years old when Patrick Ewing started rocking the gray t-shirt under his jersey. And even now, I can't watch basketball from the 1980s- those shorts are just too damn depressing.
Looking at their accolades on paper, I suppose I have to admit that it was pretty impressive what was accomplished there at G-town (basketball wise- I really have no idea what kind of cultural impact they had). Three title games in four years- and an actual championship game win. A win. Man, I would kill to have a vacated championship game win from the Fab Five years.
But Patty Ewing never did what the Fab Five did. Georgetown did not start five freshmen the year Michael Jordan drove a dagger through their hearts. The Hoyas did not repeat their title game run as sophomores- Georgetown did not return to the NCAA's final game until Ewing's junior season- when they won it all over Phi Slamma Jamma.
I'm not trying to rag on the Hoyas place in hoops history- far from it. It was as impressive of a four-year run as anyone, especially in the rugged Big East. I'm just saying that there has been some who question the credentials of the Fab Five, calling them "style over substance". True, they did not win any Big Ten championships (in those two seasons there were some extremely tough upperclassmen-led teams) or National titles. But can we just get past all of that "who has the bigger loaf of da french bread" for a second and reflect on what they did accomplish?
Besides, from my corner, the Fab Five had a huge impact on the culture. Granted, my own little corner of the world was a slightly rural and Caucasian town in the middle of Michigan- but still, I'd bet my 1992 not-there-anymore Final Four ring that there were tons of other little towns all over the United States, just like mine, where groups of mini-Fab Fives were springing up all over the place. I remember baggy shorts, bald heads, and black Nike socks becoming the popular thing for the middle school basketball player. Whether those things existed before doesn't matter necessarily, because it was the Fab Five that took them to the place of being 8th grade popular.
But all of those things are merely fashion. They Fab Five took the fashion- and made it smashin'. (In the context of my poorly conceived rhyme, smashin' is equivalent to doing something well). At a time in life when most freshmen are trying to escape swirlies, being stuffed into lockers, or being hung from flag poles, these guys were going all the way to the NCAA title game and taking a half-time lead over the defending champs. (Wait a minute, that doesn't happen to college freshmen? Yeah, I doubt it.) Having a freshman make an impact on the tournament scene was nothing new- in fact, the Georgetown Hoyas themselves got to the championship game in 1982 largely on the exploits of super frosh Patrick Ewing and lost that game because of the 18 foot jump shot from another super freshman...some random guy forgotten by history now, his name isn't important, so let's move on. Freshmen, while young and soft and squishy, can be contributing members of good basketball teams.
But having an entire starting line-up of freshmen- that was (and is) unprecedented. And sure, they played like a young AND-1 team- Jason Whitlock says that the Fab Five were "immature, arrogant", and basically undisciplined, and thus lost to teams like Duke and Indiana that were "structured, disciplined, well-coached". What Mr. Whitlock forgets to mention is that these teams prominently featured upperclassmen and experienced coaches. It's pretty easy to pick on Steve Fisher and his band of merry-men, but the fact is that they were growing-ups playing against grown-ups...and they held their own, all the way to the (almost) top.
To come back and do it again as sophomores is even more impressive, because at that point they had the target on their backs and a nation of haters just waiting for them to fall. By this time, I was starting my journey of actually watching basketball- a journey that would ultimately crescendo with me video-taping virtually the entire 2000-2001 season.
Anyways, the documentary really took me back to that place where I was so wide-eyed and innocent, and walked me down the lane of memories. For two hours on a Sunday night in March, I got to be a 6th grader again, gazing at the wonder set before me, watching the high flying theatrics from my own personal Justice League. I absolutely loved watching all of the in-game footage- especially the behind the scenes stuff (and the high school/middle school footage, like when C-Webb dunked the ball during the midget league game...or was that middle school?). But the real beauty of the documentary was that I was able to experience that with the wisdom and adultness that I've accumulated over the years.
So I got to see the story of how Juwan Howard's grandmother passed away on the day he announced he was going to Michigan. I saw the weight of failure multiplied by millions as it weight on a 19-year old Chris Webber's shoulders as he walked off the court following their 1993 loss to the Tar Heels (seriously, do the camera people have no souls?) and then have to answer reporters questions afterward about the incident (I know that reporters have no souls...oh wait. That's lawyers) with much more grace than I probably would have been able to muster at that moment.
I also got some insight into their rivalry with Duke- insight that has caused a firestorm of backlash, but also ignited some very thoughtful conversation about race, class, and education.
If you haven't heard yet, Jalen Rose (reflecting on his thoughts and feelings as a 17 old) may or may not have called Grant Hill an "Uncle Tom". As a middle class Caucasian, I am far too removed from the situation to really make an accurate assessment of the accuracy of the statement or the impact of the words. Jimmy King said he had thought Hill was a "bitch". As a middle class Caucasian...well, I'm pretty sure I understand the implication of calling someone a "bitch". Note: it's not very nice.
Hill was less than impressed, and threw around a lot of big words in an editorial to the New York Times. And so that has inspired a series of articles (I've mostly read the ones on ESPN.com) about Rose and his comments.
There are a lot of elements going on here, but my initial reaction when I read Hill's response (which is very well written) was that he overreacted. Those labels mean something entirely different to an African-American man than they do to me, but I also feel like I was able to grasp the meaning from the context of the comments. Because, you know, we don't exist in a life of one-liners and headlines- we exist in a big picture. And the comments that Rose made really had nothing to do with Grant Hill.
What I got out of Rose's comments was that he was very bitter as a young man that he had a professional athlete for a father and yet was in a situation where they had to scrape for a living while a guy like Grant Hill had a similar dynamic and yet a polar opposite situation. His remarks during the documentary were meant to reflect those feelings.
I feel that Hill overreacted. I mean, come on, Grant- you have a Duke education...surely you can discern a single quote taken out of an entire body of work. It was very obvious to me that Jalen was much, much more frustrated at the time with his situation, and that you were merely the personification of that disparity. And yes, I am admittedly pro-Fab Five...but come on, was that last line really necessary? It was, from my vantage point, a little immature. Lacking grace. Bereft of class. In essence, it's the kind of thing that I would do.
Regardless, it does bring to light a very interesting discussion about how race, class, and education all play off of each other. I can't say that all black players that play for Duke are "Uncle Toms"...because A) That's not my call to make, and B) Each situation is different. But the fact is that Duke does go after a certain class of person and player in their recruiting, and those standards and values line up with a very much WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, in case you didn't know) point of view. And that's within their right to do- as Jalen said on First Take, they have to recruit not only for their team, but for their program and their university.
The frustration that I think Jalen is trying to get across is that there is this self-perpetuating unfairness within the educational system that does not afford equal access and opportunity. Traditionally, the quality of inner-city education (cities which are predominantly made up of minorities) has lagged behind. This leads to people graduating high school with little-to-no ability to get a competitive education or a job that makes enough money to get out of the situation.
Compounding the situation, as I have come to find from reading some of these articles (watch the video with Chris Broussard), is that there is an "identity crisis" within the black community- that is, blacks that strive to succeed within the greater white society are seen as selling out, and negative qualities (being a pimp/thug/gangsta/etc.) are seen as being a true black man. So in addition to having an educational system in place that perpetuates itself, you have a culture that reinforces negative stereotypes as well. Factor in the stereotypes of mainstream America towards urban areas...and poof! There you have it- 21st century segregation.
It's a terrible situation that we can thank our forefathers for. However, if anything at all comes out of this documentary besides some great basketball clips and reminders that the early days of hip-hop were pretty painful on the ears, I hope that it opens eyes to the fact that while slavery has been officially abolished for quite some time, there are flaws built into the system to keep the playing field from being equal.
All in all, I think it was a great documentary. There are layers that I didn't even delve into in this blog- you might love or hate the Fab Five, but I am willing to bet that if you were a sports fan in the early 1990's, you are not ambivalent about them. This documentary will make you think, and hopefully help to keep what is one of my most cherished memories in tact for years and years to come.
In the interest of journalistic integrity (although I am neither a journalist nor a person of integrity), I should here admit my rather large bias in assessing the Fab Five documentary. I am a white kid who used to be a die-hard U-M fan, and was in my fresh formative sports years when the Fab Five hit the scene. I understand that I forfeit my objectivity, and I accept that lot. So when I weigh in the documentary itself, as well as the racial discussion it has sparked- I realize the lens that I see through will have some fingerprints on it....and what's this, an eyelash?
Let me just say, I absolutely loved this documentary. It was everything I thought it would be- and more. This was like having nostalgia pumped directly into my blood stream. See I was in 6th grade when the Fab Five started playing collegiate basketball for the University of Michigan. Before then, I was mostly a bookworm who would play in the occasional backyard football game but was by and large not very interested (or knowledgeable) about sports.
I don't want to say that I started shooting hoops because C-Webb was throwing down vicious dunks. And I didn't start watching ESPN all the time because Jalen threw a sweet alley-oop to Jimmy King. But they were definitely a very present entity during that time, and because of the association, they have become permanently etched in my mind as this very mythic entity that destroyed crops and burned villages.
Of course, several articles that I have read, including this one and this one, make reference to the influence of the Fab Five as being overstated- that the early 1980's Georgetown teams were bringing hip/hop blackness to college b-ball a decade before the Wolverines. By and large, I cannot truly comment on that, because I was like 4 years old when Patrick Ewing started rocking the gray t-shirt under his jersey. And even now, I can't watch basketball from the 1980s- those shorts are just too damn depressing.
Looking at their accolades on paper, I suppose I have to admit that it was pretty impressive what was accomplished there at G-town (basketball wise- I really have no idea what kind of cultural impact they had). Three title games in four years- and an actual championship game win. A win. Man, I would kill to have a vacated championship game win from the Fab Five years.
But Patty Ewing never did what the Fab Five did. Georgetown did not start five freshmen the year Michael Jordan drove a dagger through their hearts. The Hoyas did not repeat their title game run as sophomores- Georgetown did not return to the NCAA's final game until Ewing's junior season- when they won it all over Phi Slamma Jamma.
I'm not trying to rag on the Hoyas place in hoops history- far from it. It was as impressive of a four-year run as anyone, especially in the rugged Big East. I'm just saying that there has been some who question the credentials of the Fab Five, calling them "style over substance". True, they did not win any Big Ten championships (in those two seasons there were some extremely tough upperclassmen-led teams) or National titles. But can we just get past all of that "who has the bigger loaf of da french bread" for a second and reflect on what they did accomplish?
Besides, from my corner, the Fab Five had a huge impact on the culture. Granted, my own little corner of the world was a slightly rural and Caucasian town in the middle of Michigan- but still, I'd bet my 1992 not-there-anymore Final Four ring that there were tons of other little towns all over the United States, just like mine, where groups of mini-Fab Fives were springing up all over the place. I remember baggy shorts, bald heads, and black Nike socks becoming the popular thing for the middle school basketball player. Whether those things existed before doesn't matter necessarily, because it was the Fab Five that took them to the place of being 8th grade popular.
But all of those things are merely fashion. They Fab Five took the fashion- and made it smashin'. (In the context of my poorly conceived rhyme, smashin' is equivalent to doing something well). At a time in life when most freshmen are trying to escape swirlies, being stuffed into lockers, or being hung from flag poles, these guys were going all the way to the NCAA title game and taking a half-time lead over the defending champs. (Wait a minute, that doesn't happen to college freshmen? Yeah, I doubt it.) Having a freshman make an impact on the tournament scene was nothing new- in fact, the Georgetown Hoyas themselves got to the championship game in 1982 largely on the exploits of super frosh Patrick Ewing and lost that game because of the 18 foot jump shot from another super freshman...some random guy forgotten by history now, his name isn't important, so let's move on. Freshmen, while young and soft and squishy, can be contributing members of good basketball teams.
But having an entire starting line-up of freshmen- that was (and is) unprecedented. And sure, they played like a young AND-1 team- Jason Whitlock says that the Fab Five were "immature, arrogant", and basically undisciplined, and thus lost to teams like Duke and Indiana that were "structured, disciplined, well-coached". What Mr. Whitlock forgets to mention is that these teams prominently featured upperclassmen and experienced coaches. It's pretty easy to pick on Steve Fisher and his band of merry-men, but the fact is that they were growing-ups playing against grown-ups...and they held their own, all the way to the (almost) top.
To come back and do it again as sophomores is even more impressive, because at that point they had the target on their backs and a nation of haters just waiting for them to fall. By this time, I was starting my journey of actually watching basketball- a journey that would ultimately crescendo with me video-taping virtually the entire 2000-2001 season.
Anyways, the documentary really took me back to that place where I was so wide-eyed and innocent, and walked me down the lane of memories. For two hours on a Sunday night in March, I got to be a 6th grader again, gazing at the wonder set before me, watching the high flying theatrics from my own personal Justice League. I absolutely loved watching all of the in-game footage- especially the behind the scenes stuff (and the high school/middle school footage, like when C-Webb dunked the ball during the midget league game...or was that middle school?). But the real beauty of the documentary was that I was able to experience that with the wisdom and adultness that I've accumulated over the years.
So I got to see the story of how Juwan Howard's grandmother passed away on the day he announced he was going to Michigan. I saw the weight of failure multiplied by millions as it weight on a 19-year old Chris Webber's shoulders as he walked off the court following their 1993 loss to the Tar Heels (seriously, do the camera people have no souls?) and then have to answer reporters questions afterward about the incident (I know that reporters have no souls...oh wait. That's lawyers) with much more grace than I probably would have been able to muster at that moment.
I also got some insight into their rivalry with Duke- insight that has caused a firestorm of backlash, but also ignited some very thoughtful conversation about race, class, and education.
If you haven't heard yet, Jalen Rose (reflecting on his thoughts and feelings as a 17 old) may or may not have called Grant Hill an "Uncle Tom". As a middle class Caucasian, I am far too removed from the situation to really make an accurate assessment of the accuracy of the statement or the impact of the words. Jimmy King said he had thought Hill was a "bitch". As a middle class Caucasian...well, I'm pretty sure I understand the implication of calling someone a "bitch". Note: it's not very nice.
Hill was less than impressed, and threw around a lot of big words in an editorial to the New York Times. And so that has inspired a series of articles (I've mostly read the ones on ESPN.com) about Rose and his comments.
There are a lot of elements going on here, but my initial reaction when I read Hill's response (which is very well written) was that he overreacted. Those labels mean something entirely different to an African-American man than they do to me, but I also feel like I was able to grasp the meaning from the context of the comments. Because, you know, we don't exist in a life of one-liners and headlines- we exist in a big picture. And the comments that Rose made really had nothing to do with Grant Hill.
What I got out of Rose's comments was that he was very bitter as a young man that he had a professional athlete for a father and yet was in a situation where they had to scrape for a living while a guy like Grant Hill had a similar dynamic and yet a polar opposite situation. His remarks during the documentary were meant to reflect those feelings.
I feel that Hill overreacted. I mean, come on, Grant- you have a Duke education...surely you can discern a single quote taken out of an entire body of work. It was very obvious to me that Jalen was much, much more frustrated at the time with his situation, and that you were merely the personification of that disparity. And yes, I am admittedly pro-Fab Five...but come on, was that last line really necessary? It was, from my vantage point, a little immature. Lacking grace. Bereft of class. In essence, it's the kind of thing that I would do.
Regardless, it does bring to light a very interesting discussion about how race, class, and education all play off of each other. I can't say that all black players that play for Duke are "Uncle Toms"...because A) That's not my call to make, and B) Each situation is different. But the fact is that Duke does go after a certain class of person and player in their recruiting, and those standards and values line up with a very much WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, in case you didn't know) point of view. And that's within their right to do- as Jalen said on First Take, they have to recruit not only for their team, but for their program and their university.
The frustration that I think Jalen is trying to get across is that there is this self-perpetuating unfairness within the educational system that does not afford equal access and opportunity. Traditionally, the quality of inner-city education (cities which are predominantly made up of minorities) has lagged behind. This leads to people graduating high school with little-to-no ability to get a competitive education or a job that makes enough money to get out of the situation.
Compounding the situation, as I have come to find from reading some of these articles (watch the video with Chris Broussard), is that there is an "identity crisis" within the black community- that is, blacks that strive to succeed within the greater white society are seen as selling out, and negative qualities (being a pimp/thug/gangsta/etc.) are seen as being a true black man. So in addition to having an educational system in place that perpetuates itself, you have a culture that reinforces negative stereotypes as well. Factor in the stereotypes of mainstream America towards urban areas...and poof! There you have it- 21st century segregation.
It's a terrible situation that we can thank our forefathers for. However, if anything at all comes out of this documentary besides some great basketball clips and reminders that the early days of hip-hop were pretty painful on the ears, I hope that it opens eyes to the fact that while slavery has been officially abolished for quite some time, there are flaws built into the system to keep the playing field from being equal.
All in all, I think it was a great documentary. There are layers that I didn't even delve into in this blog- you might love or hate the Fab Five, but I am willing to bet that if you were a sports fan in the early 1990's, you are not ambivalent about them. This documentary will make you think, and hopefully help to keep what is one of my most cherished memories in tact for years and years to come.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Red Riding Hood- Or should we say- Twilight 3.1?
This has probably been covered ad nauseum, and if hasn't yet, then it surely will after this weekend. Nonetheless, I feel that it is my obligation, my duty, my moral responsibility- to blog about this. Right now.
Red Riding Hood is a Twilight rip-off. Seriously. Go on YouTube. Search Red Riding Hood trailer. See what I mean.
I just got done watching the trailer, and I could not jump off the computer fast enough to tell you all to save your souls by not going to the theater to watch this garbage. Seriously- this is not a new piece of film artwork. It's a Twilight movie with some new costumes.
In the interests of self disclosure, I probably should tell you that we own all three of the Twilight movies released to date. I saw the last two in theaters (Eclipse I saw twice). My wife has read all the books. I even have a Team Jacob water bottle (only because they don't have a Team Jasper). Some people might question my manhood. I prefer to think of it as 'insight into the female mind'. Insight which, BTWs, has not helped me to keep from sleeping on the couch when I forget to bring home a chocolate chip muffin in the morning.
Yes, I realize that publicly admitting that I am a closet Twilight fan could have serious ramifications. I will worry about picking up the broken fragments of my reader base later on. Right now, I have a much more pressing call on my life- to squash this Hollywood copycat trend before it ruins all of the great fairy tales of my childhood like Three Little Pigs or Tom Thumb.
Initially, I liked the idea behind Twilight...chick falls in love with vampire in a modern high school setting. That's kinda cool. And unlike many of my geek friends, it doesn't bother me that Stephanie Meyer took liberties with the vampire and were-wolf myths. After all, a good re-imagining can breathe life into a franchise, and in case you haven't been paying attention, vampires are now chic. Thanks, Steph.
And the love triangle that really developed in New Moon didn't really bother me so much either. I mean, if I had to decide between Robert Pattinson and Taylor Laughtner- it'd probably take me the course of a couple movies. And then Eclipse sort of grabbed me because we got to see some sweet vampire/werewolf throw-downs.
But now I'm starting to get a little bit tired of this whole shtick. I'm done. Out. Fin-ay. This story has officially worn out its welcome. There is only so much Bella-type angst that I can put up with- and it's now over the threshold. I am vehemently against them making any more Twilight films- let alone dragging good and wholesome titles like Little Red Riding Hood through the mud.
(side rant) There is absolutely no reason why Bella should not be choosing Jacob. First of all, he is just physically more attractive. He has bigger muscles. Better hair. More tan complexion. His eyes aren't as dreamy, but that is kinda offset by the fact that he isn't an immortal killing machine that has an insatiable lust for her blood. Plus, he turns into a dog. Sometimes couples struggle with the friendship aspect of a relationship. With Jacob- no probalo! He turns into a ginormous wolf! Imagine that your king size bed had a built-in fuzzy blanket and watch-dogness. You'd snap that up in a heart beat, wouldn't you? (end side rant)
But now the whole emo-fairy tale-love triangle genre is starting to pick up steam. Like a newborn vampire, it's young and strong and hungry- and it doesn't have very good judgment. It's just ripping through all of literature and not stopping until it infects all of them. If Ms. Hood's innocent jaunt through the woods to bring delicious baked goods to her grandmother can be tainted, what dear childhood stories can be safe? Will the big, bad wolf have to choose which of the three little pigs he wants to hook up with? Is there incestuous pedophilia on the horizon with Hansel and Gretel? Is the Ugly Duckling doomed to turn into a beautiful series of one night stands?
We need to take a stand. Now. Tell Hollywood that we don't want to see anymore of this crap. It had it's fifteen minutes- now let's show it the door and tell it that we want to see other people.
Red Riding Hood is a Twilight rip-off. Seriously. Go on YouTube. Search Red Riding Hood trailer. See what I mean.
I just got done watching the trailer, and I could not jump off the computer fast enough to tell you all to save your souls by not going to the theater to watch this garbage. Seriously- this is not a new piece of film artwork. It's a Twilight movie with some new costumes.
In the interests of self disclosure, I probably should tell you that we own all three of the Twilight movies released to date. I saw the last two in theaters (Eclipse I saw twice). My wife has read all the books. I even have a Team Jacob water bottle (only because they don't have a Team Jasper). Some people might question my manhood. I prefer to think of it as 'insight into the female mind'. Insight which, BTWs, has not helped me to keep from sleeping on the couch when I forget to bring home a chocolate chip muffin in the morning.
Yes, I realize that publicly admitting that I am a closet Twilight fan could have serious ramifications. I will worry about picking up the broken fragments of my reader base later on. Right now, I have a much more pressing call on my life- to squash this Hollywood copycat trend before it ruins all of the great fairy tales of my childhood like Three Little Pigs or Tom Thumb.
Initially, I liked the idea behind Twilight...chick falls in love with vampire in a modern high school setting. That's kinda cool. And unlike many of my geek friends, it doesn't bother me that Stephanie Meyer took liberties with the vampire and were-wolf myths. After all, a good re-imagining can breathe life into a franchise, and in case you haven't been paying attention, vampires are now chic. Thanks, Steph.
And the love triangle that really developed in New Moon didn't really bother me so much either. I mean, if I had to decide between Robert Pattinson and Taylor Laughtner- it'd probably take me the course of a couple movies. And then Eclipse sort of grabbed me because we got to see some sweet vampire/werewolf throw-downs.
But now I'm starting to get a little bit tired of this whole shtick. I'm done. Out. Fin-ay. This story has officially worn out its welcome. There is only so much Bella-type angst that I can put up with- and it's now over the threshold. I am vehemently against them making any more Twilight films- let alone dragging good and wholesome titles like Little Red Riding Hood through the mud.
(side rant) There is absolutely no reason why Bella should not be choosing Jacob. First of all, he is just physically more attractive. He has bigger muscles. Better hair. More tan complexion. His eyes aren't as dreamy, but that is kinda offset by the fact that he isn't an immortal killing machine that has an insatiable lust for her blood. Plus, he turns into a dog. Sometimes couples struggle with the friendship aspect of a relationship. With Jacob- no probalo! He turns into a ginormous wolf! Imagine that your king size bed had a built-in fuzzy blanket and watch-dogness. You'd snap that up in a heart beat, wouldn't you? (end side rant)
But now the whole emo-fairy tale-love triangle genre is starting to pick up steam. Like a newborn vampire, it's young and strong and hungry- and it doesn't have very good judgment. It's just ripping through all of literature and not stopping until it infects all of them. If Ms. Hood's innocent jaunt through the woods to bring delicious baked goods to her grandmother can be tainted, what dear childhood stories can be safe? Will the big, bad wolf have to choose which of the three little pigs he wants to hook up with? Is there incestuous pedophilia on the horizon with Hansel and Gretel? Is the Ugly Duckling doomed to turn into a beautiful series of one night stands?
We need to take a stand. Now. Tell Hollywood that we don't want to see anymore of this crap. It had it's fifteen minutes- now let's show it the door and tell it that we want to see other people.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Twist the script- Wes Leonard
I remember the first time I heard the phrase 'Life imitating art'. It was on a VHS cassette of the great sports moments of the 80's, narrated by Al Michaels. I don't think I fully understood the ramifications at that time, but I was able to glean from the context of the statement (in reference to the 1980 US Olympic hockey squad that, in case you haven't heard, shockingly won the gold medal against the far superior Soviet squad) what it meant.
The implication is that when it comes to telling a compelling story, the artistic medium has a huge advantage over reality. This is because you can dictate everything about that story. You set the details, the chronology, the terms of engagement- everything. You can make it anything you want- and if you do it well enough, it will tap into that place inside all of us that longs to see wrongs set right and the hero of the story triumph against impossible odds. Real life, on the other hand, is bound to the cards it is dealt and left to walk along the paths where the chips fall. The hero doesn't always get the girl. The villain doesn't always get caught.
But that doesn't mean that there aren't real life stories that don't take us to those places. Sometimes, events unfold before our eyes that seem to have been written by a master writer. And when they happen, they are much more powerful than any story could be...because they happened for real. It's one thing to watch a movie and make the leap to reality- because after all, it's easy for the protagonist to succeed when they are passively following the path laid before them by the author. But when the exact same thing happens in the news- we sit up and take notice, because this time our hero more than likely had to take matters into their own hands. And that gives us hope that such strength resides inside of us as well.
Such a thing happened recently, and as a former basketball player and resident of Michigan- it hit somewhat close to home. If you haven't heard, Fennville High star Wes Leonard hit the game winning shot in a high school basketball game on March 3rd- a shot that additionally propelled the Blackhawks to an undefeated regular season. In the midst of the celebration, Leonard collapsed. A couple hours later, Leonard was pronounce dead due to a heart attack caused by dilated cardiomyopathy.
This would be an event that would shake any community. In a town of about 1400 people- well, I can only imagine how much collective pain is being shared. I was especially shocked to find out that in 2010, the school also lost a 14 year old wrestler. Wow. Two young athletes in the span of 14 months, dead well before their time. How do you recover from one- let along two?
My favorite sports stories all revolve around the idea of victory in the face of overwhelming odds. These types of stories reach inside of me and bring me to my knees. I cried during Rudy, and I cried during Remember the Titans, and I even shed some tears during Bull Durham (although...they were probably tears shed for a different reason). But these were movies- stories that were able to be intricately woven, truths that were changed to enhance the dramatic impact. How do you overcome things like the death of a beloved high school athlete?
If this story was a movie, the obvious ending would be for the team to gather around the memory of their fallen comrade, and march through the postseason tournament with a series of stirring victories, until excitement reaches a fever pitch in the championship game where the team falls behind to a prohibited favorite and then rallies to win the title with a last second shot.
It's much too early to tell whether that will happen or not- Districts just started yesterday. And realistically, such an ending would really just serve to reduce the life of Wes Leonard to that of the sports star- and that is in no way fair to his legacy, his family, or his community. The real life team spent the weekend deliberating about whether or not to even play in the tournament. In the end, the Blackhawks decided to go ahead with their Monday game against Lawrence. To say that the end result, a 65-54 win, is merely a footnote in this story is like saying that Charlie Sheen is a little crazy.
I'm not one of the people directly impacted by the situation, so it's not for me to say whether or not a state title ending would be the best ending- although I can't imagine anyone rooting against them. But this morning I read about how the District tournament game unfolded (and I highly recommend reading this hyperlink), and I realized that this story is about much, much more than a series of tournament brackets and box scores. It is about people confronting the harsh realities of life and having to lean on each other to make it through. It's about the forming of meaning in the face of the meaningless. It's a story that cannot be contained by school allegiances or county lines. It is the story of Wes Leonard. It is...the story of all of us.
It's easy to care when you're getting paid to be a football player at Notre Dame (um, I mean, in the movie. Yeah, yeah, that's it). Of course you'll be all about racial equality if Denzel is your coach. But the grace shown by the visitors from Lawrence (agreeing to move the game from their home gym, wearing tribute shirts for Wes Leonard) and the strength to come out and compete by the Fennville team...those kinds of things cannot merely come from the minds of writers. They have to come from deep inside of us. They come from a place that we all hope never to find, but we all need if we are to make sense of the horrible events that stalk our lives.
The death of Wes Leonard is an unmistakable tragedy. Whether you believe in a divine entity that controls our fates or simply random luck and chance, we all experience loss of loved ones- and sometimes that loss happens well before we feel that it should. And so we are left to scramble to pick up the pieces and fill the holes that have been carved into our hearts. That is why this story has resonated with me so. It is not about the death of Wes Leonard- it is about his life, and a celebration of what he meant to a small community in southwestern Michigan.
I pray we all find the strength to have such in the midst of hard times as the wonderful people of Fennville. I wish your team the best of luck in this state tournament, but more importantly, I hope you all find peace in this terrible loss.
The implication is that when it comes to telling a compelling story, the artistic medium has a huge advantage over reality. This is because you can dictate everything about that story. You set the details, the chronology, the terms of engagement- everything. You can make it anything you want- and if you do it well enough, it will tap into that place inside all of us that longs to see wrongs set right and the hero of the story triumph against impossible odds. Real life, on the other hand, is bound to the cards it is dealt and left to walk along the paths where the chips fall. The hero doesn't always get the girl. The villain doesn't always get caught.
But that doesn't mean that there aren't real life stories that don't take us to those places. Sometimes, events unfold before our eyes that seem to have been written by a master writer. And when they happen, they are much more powerful than any story could be...because they happened for real. It's one thing to watch a movie and make the leap to reality- because after all, it's easy for the protagonist to succeed when they are passively following the path laid before them by the author. But when the exact same thing happens in the news- we sit up and take notice, because this time our hero more than likely had to take matters into their own hands. And that gives us hope that such strength resides inside of us as well.
Such a thing happened recently, and as a former basketball player and resident of Michigan- it hit somewhat close to home. If you haven't heard, Fennville High star Wes Leonard hit the game winning shot in a high school basketball game on March 3rd- a shot that additionally propelled the Blackhawks to an undefeated regular season. In the midst of the celebration, Leonard collapsed. A couple hours later, Leonard was pronounce dead due to a heart attack caused by dilated cardiomyopathy.
This would be an event that would shake any community. In a town of about 1400 people- well, I can only imagine how much collective pain is being shared. I was especially shocked to find out that in 2010, the school also lost a 14 year old wrestler. Wow. Two young athletes in the span of 14 months, dead well before their time. How do you recover from one- let along two?
My favorite sports stories all revolve around the idea of victory in the face of overwhelming odds. These types of stories reach inside of me and bring me to my knees. I cried during Rudy, and I cried during Remember the Titans, and I even shed some tears during Bull Durham (although...they were probably tears shed for a different reason). But these were movies- stories that were able to be intricately woven, truths that were changed to enhance the dramatic impact. How do you overcome things like the death of a beloved high school athlete?
If this story was a movie, the obvious ending would be for the team to gather around the memory of their fallen comrade, and march through the postseason tournament with a series of stirring victories, until excitement reaches a fever pitch in the championship game where the team falls behind to a prohibited favorite and then rallies to win the title with a last second shot.
It's much too early to tell whether that will happen or not- Districts just started yesterday. And realistically, such an ending would really just serve to reduce the life of Wes Leonard to that of the sports star- and that is in no way fair to his legacy, his family, or his community. The real life team spent the weekend deliberating about whether or not to even play in the tournament. In the end, the Blackhawks decided to go ahead with their Monday game against Lawrence. To say that the end result, a 65-54 win, is merely a footnote in this story is like saying that Charlie Sheen is a little crazy.
I'm not one of the people directly impacted by the situation, so it's not for me to say whether or not a state title ending would be the best ending- although I can't imagine anyone rooting against them. But this morning I read about how the District tournament game unfolded (and I highly recommend reading this hyperlink), and I realized that this story is about much, much more than a series of tournament brackets and box scores. It is about people confronting the harsh realities of life and having to lean on each other to make it through. It's about the forming of meaning in the face of the meaningless. It's a story that cannot be contained by school allegiances or county lines. It is the story of Wes Leonard. It is...the story of all of us.
It's easy to care when you're getting paid to be a football player at Notre Dame (um, I mean, in the movie. Yeah, yeah, that's it). Of course you'll be all about racial equality if Denzel is your coach. But the grace shown by the visitors from Lawrence (agreeing to move the game from their home gym, wearing tribute shirts for Wes Leonard) and the strength to come out and compete by the Fennville team...those kinds of things cannot merely come from the minds of writers. They have to come from deep inside of us. They come from a place that we all hope never to find, but we all need if we are to make sense of the horrible events that stalk our lives.
The death of Wes Leonard is an unmistakable tragedy. Whether you believe in a divine entity that controls our fates or simply random luck and chance, we all experience loss of loved ones- and sometimes that loss happens well before we feel that it should. And so we are left to scramble to pick up the pieces and fill the holes that have been carved into our hearts. That is why this story has resonated with me so. It is not about the death of Wes Leonard- it is about his life, and a celebration of what he meant to a small community in southwestern Michigan.
I pray we all find the strength to have such in the midst of hard times as the wonderful people of Fennville. I wish your team the best of luck in this state tournament, but more importantly, I hope you all find peace in this terrible loss.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
I am the straw man
Hey gang. It's been awhile. I have something I need to say. I thought I could just play it cool, turn the other cheek, and move forward. But alas- no dice.
I know I'm not perfect, and I'll even go so far as to admit that I don't know everything. I never claimed to have the inside truth scoop. I started this blog as a means to share my thoughts, feelings, opinions, and beliefs. Not so that I could start a thought revolution or brainwash the masses...rather, I just needed a forum where I could process out the inner workings of my brain and share some of myself with the world. PG, of course.
Additionally, I will even admit that yes, I possess a certain level of naivety. By and large, I have lived a sheltered existence. There are experiences that I have not partaken of- for better and for worse. I cannot claim to have walked through many of the tribulations and trials that others have.
But I don't think that should disqualify me from speaking my mind. I am a human being, and I have experienced things that other people have not. They are my experiences- no one else's. And I try to fill in the blanks by talking to others about their experiences, and reading about the experiences of others. It's not feasible (or even possible) to know every single human experience that there is. That's why communication is so important. That's why I feel that this blog is important. I feel that I have things to share with everybody. No, they won't pay off your credit card, fill your gas tank or solve world hunger. But that's not what I'm selling, anyways.
In terms of being inexperienced-I don't think that the lack of experience is an automatic disqualifier. Look at Samuel. Or Timothy. And those are just a couple biblical examples off the top of my head. Again, I'm not saying that I'm absolutely, 100% positively correct and above reproach. Because I know that I'm not. But don't disqualify the words I write or the things I say just because they come in a package that doesn't look like the one they show on T.V.
Yes, I am somewhat of an idealist. So was Jesus. So was Martin Luther King, Jr. Of course they also dwelt firmly in reality. And I strive to do that- I do. I feel that I'm pretty pragmatic, for the most part. But I don't think that we should just blindly accept reality because it's the way things are. Without the pursuit of high and noble principles- aren't we just reduced to animals? Struggling to survive on the bottom of the hierarchy of needs? Sure, the world functions in reality- but it changes because of dreamers.
I guess what I'm trying to say is- this blog is me. It's me, putting myself out there. My heart on the screen. I don't ask you to blindly take what I say as gospel. I want to raise questions. Sure, there are often times when I just want to score some good laughs. And sometimes, I might make ridiculous pop-culture related lists that really serve no purpose other than cluttering up cyber-space. But there are times when I dig deep into those parts of myself where I have wrestled with serious issues, and I try to present those issues to you so that you can wrestle with them yourselves. I want us to grow. And I don't think we can really truly grow unless we are willing to put our innermost beliefs and ideas to the test. If we just reject opposition out of hand- then we still might become more secure in our own beliefs- but we are robbing ourselves of a chance to experience something wonderful- a chance to encounter truth.
I know I'm not perfect, and I'll even go so far as to admit that I don't know everything. I never claimed to have the inside truth scoop. I started this blog as a means to share my thoughts, feelings, opinions, and beliefs. Not so that I could start a thought revolution or brainwash the masses...rather, I just needed a forum where I could process out the inner workings of my brain and share some of myself with the world. PG, of course.
Additionally, I will even admit that yes, I possess a certain level of naivety. By and large, I have lived a sheltered existence. There are experiences that I have not partaken of- for better and for worse. I cannot claim to have walked through many of the tribulations and trials that others have.
But I don't think that should disqualify me from speaking my mind. I am a human being, and I have experienced things that other people have not. They are my experiences- no one else's. And I try to fill in the blanks by talking to others about their experiences, and reading about the experiences of others. It's not feasible (or even possible) to know every single human experience that there is. That's why communication is so important. That's why I feel that this blog is important. I feel that I have things to share with everybody. No, they won't pay off your credit card, fill your gas tank or solve world hunger. But that's not what I'm selling, anyways.
In terms of being inexperienced-I don't think that the lack of experience is an automatic disqualifier. Look at Samuel. Or Timothy. And those are just a couple biblical examples off the top of my head. Again, I'm not saying that I'm absolutely, 100% positively correct and above reproach. Because I know that I'm not. But don't disqualify the words I write or the things I say just because they come in a package that doesn't look like the one they show on T.V.
Yes, I am somewhat of an idealist. So was Jesus. So was Martin Luther King, Jr. Of course they also dwelt firmly in reality. And I strive to do that- I do. I feel that I'm pretty pragmatic, for the most part. But I don't think that we should just blindly accept reality because it's the way things are. Without the pursuit of high and noble principles- aren't we just reduced to animals? Struggling to survive on the bottom of the hierarchy of needs? Sure, the world functions in reality- but it changes because of dreamers.
I guess what I'm trying to say is- this blog is me. It's me, putting myself out there. My heart on the screen. I don't ask you to blindly take what I say as gospel. I want to raise questions. Sure, there are often times when I just want to score some good laughs. And sometimes, I might make ridiculous pop-culture related lists that really serve no purpose other than cluttering up cyber-space. But there are times when I dig deep into those parts of myself where I have wrestled with serious issues, and I try to present those issues to you so that you can wrestle with them yourselves. I want us to grow. And I don't think we can really truly grow unless we are willing to put our innermost beliefs and ideas to the test. If we just reject opposition out of hand- then we still might become more secure in our own beliefs- but we are robbing ourselves of a chance to experience something wonderful- a chance to encounter truth.
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