tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50934219346679617792024-03-08T02:42:31.653-08:00The Domestic WarriorSports fan. Connoisseur of good music (especially on vinyl). Consumer of the finest craft beers and bourbon. Environmental activist. History geek. Dudeist Priest. Hunter S. Thompson junkie. And I write a little. First and foremost though, I am a dad and - like many other dads of my generation who are crushing it on the home front - something of a Domestic Warrior. Thanks for stopping by. Return often...or at least when you are bored.Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.comBlogger294125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-77935917323965920592023-12-29T20:36:00.000-08:002023-12-29T20:36:14.034-08:00Same As Ever<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Podcast-land is a vast landscape of diverse interests
and budding obsessions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every media
member, former athlete, B-list celebrity or grasping-for-fame influencer has
one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And much like a tour through any
team roster, this massive ocean of multi-media content contains some standouts,
a host of solid contributors and some unfortunate (that they exist) filler,
sans any trace of killer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Avoiding the regrettable and finding quality topics of
interest takes some effort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wouldn’t
say it is an exercise that makes me long for the pre-digital days of five
television channels and three radio stations, but there are certainly moments
when the appreciation those far off, simpler times rises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When lacking the opportunity to proactively pod-surf,
say when life suddenly bequeaths you a rare hour to kill, finding an instant
treasure in the podcast hinterland is daunting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Channeling Dirty Harry, the obvious question is, “Do I feel lucky?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When faced with such a dilemma last week, the universe
was kind to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dumb-luck discovered
podcast was “Plan English”, hosted by Derek Thompson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The selected episode was titled “What Most
People Get Wrong About Wealth, Fame and Happiness” and featured author Morgan
Housel and his new book, “Same as Ever”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was fantastic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The title introduces the content.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Housel’s book, which features stories
illustrating historical patterns and habitual human flaws, accentuated the
conversation with proof of our repetitive “wrongs” and the hope that awareness produces
wisdom, which leads to better choices, which leads to greater wealth, and a
better understanding of fame and happiness.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This, curiously, got me thinking about sports and the
holidays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brain: when you figure out
yours, help me with mine. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Let me try to connect the dots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You may want to grab a beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing in sports is the “same as ever.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some things stick for a long time – Andy Reid
coaching winning NFL teams, LeBron James dominating basketball, the Houston
Astros in the MLB playoffs, and the Washington Commanders playing losing
football, for example.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But nothing lasts
forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That counterpoint’s examples: the
Bill Belichick-Tom Brady Patriots dynasty, the Nicklas Backstrom-Alexander
Ovechkin connection, and the Capitals and Wizards leaving D.C. (probably).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For those of adequate vintage, this fluid dynamic
creates a coexistence of nostalgia for the past, appreciation for the present
and excitement for the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two good
examples are the Orioles and Nationals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For the O’s, it’s impossible for anyone over 40 to see the warehouse at
Camden Yards and forget the numbers counting down Cal Ripken Jr.’s march to the
consecutive games played record, while also being jacked about the youngsters
that arrived this season and the promise they offer for the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Similarly, for Nats fans, the yearning for
Juan Soto, Trea Turner and that magical 2019 team is palatable; but the rebuild
is underway and 2024 should mark the arrival of more future stars.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In my scrambled mind, this seamlessly transitions to
the holiday season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever you
celebrate, this time of year is often – and hopefully - synonymous with family
gatherings and reconnections with good friends and loved ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is that rare opportunity to dismount the
hamster wheel, wrestle control over the pace of life and invest in cherished
relationships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Of course, for those who have lapped the sun a few
dozen times, the emotions of the holidays, like those of longtime sports fans,
cover the gamut – the togetherness is special and the promise of the years to
come is alluring, but these feeling share headspace with a hint of nostalgia for
yesteryears and an ache for loved ones lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The popular saying is life throws a lot of curveballs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But curveballs are predictable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, life is more like a knuckleball –
fascinating, beautiful and unpredictable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As Hunter S. Thompson quipped about life’s complexities, “Hope rises and
dreams flicker and die; love plans for tomorrow and loneliness thinks of
yesterday; life is beautiful and living is pain.” Recognizing the
personal emotional complexities of the season, I supposed the holidays are simply a time to seek joy in moments, to find hope in a future waiting to be revealed,
and to feel gratitude for memories now locked in the past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-26662685655250733752023-12-29T20:34:00.000-08:002023-12-29T20:34:06.025-08:00Vegetable Stands and Frozen Pizza<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com) </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A modified bookshelf sits prominently in an inviting
living room that is otherwise decorated with memorabilia spanning 40 years of
D.C. sports history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the shelves are
hundreds of vinyl records; some are new but most are old, several even older
than their present owner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Conditions
vary from pristine (great survivors of an untold provenance) to the “well
played”, the latter population delivering that warm, snap-crackle-pop through
the speakers as they spin across a needle delicately navigating ancient surface
grooves.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have trouble explaining my affinity for these
records.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And as a writer, my struggle
for words is bothersome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the surface,
it makes no sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could compile all
of these albums in no time – click here, click there and boom…they are on my
phone, tablet or computer in digital form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Access would easy and from anywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The sound would be crisp and clean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The total acquisition cost would likely be less.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Storage - simple.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So why would I choose to attend countless records
shows, hunt down record stores in every town I visit and sift through stack
after stack of dusty vinyl just to assemble this swelling mass of music
artifacts?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
I can hypothesize.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Sports
Illustrated (SI), the once great must-read magazine for sports fans, provided a
fantastic data point for my contemplation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Life moves fast, so in case you missed it (I did), SI recently
faced heat for getting caught using content generated by Artificial
Intelligence (AI).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The content not only
did not disclose it was computer generated, it was attributed to a human author
– a person who does not exist in carbon form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When sleuths confronted SI, it did what many exposed people and entities
do now: deny, divert and embrace victimhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>SI’s official response was it used a third party for content and was
duped themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah, so SI wasn’t being
disingenuous, it was incompetent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
makes things so much better.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Spineless SI aside, AI content isn’t coming, it’s here
and is poised to spread.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Disclosure of
its use, at least by professional journalistic forums (there’s no hope for
social media), is critical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From there,
consumers will decide its fate and proliferation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a sports writer, is it threatening?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somewhat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is difficult to comprehend how pernicious it could be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But human writers should gladly accept the
challenge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe sports fans will
always want content – good content, not lazy, slap-it-together generic poo - generated
by a fellow human.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It ensures accuracy
and source-authenticity; and, if a piece is well-written, I refuse to believe
that a machine can adequately capture and convey the intricacies of and human
emotions generated by a sporting event. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
example, if you’re telling me a machine can properly communicate the passions
of degenerates at Philadelphia Eagles games, I ain’t buying it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Gut instinct (something AI doesn’t have): at the end
of the day, most people will tolerate some AI for basic information, but will
continue looking to other humans for deeper meaning and more thought-provoking
stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think – hope – the same will
apply to other artforms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>AI-generated
movie scripts and scores, faux lip-synched “live” concerts, hologram shows
(ABBA, KISS) and macro, AI-generated pop songs have their place, I suppose
(being kind).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But brass tacks: how much
ultra-processing can the soul stand?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Which of course circles back to those vinyl records.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why the allure?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They represent the music’s original intended
form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Led Zeppelin’s “IV”, Rolling
Stones’ “Exile on Mainstreet”, Stevie Wonder’s “Innervisions” weren’t meant for
a digital format.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An MP3 of Aretha
Franklin’s “Respect” piped into your brain via ear buds will never be an
adequate substitute for holding an original album in your hands while the
record spins and you work up a sweat dancing in your living room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Records are music’s version of the local
vegetable stand and farm-to-table food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's
as good as it gets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Digital music files
are like facsimile autographs and frozen pizza.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And much like frozen pizza has its place (especially
at 2am), AI will no doubt become a regular source for sports information.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s just hope it’s never more than
niche.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything in moderation,
eh?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-83118244988827500182023-12-29T20:30:00.000-08:002023-12-29T20:30:02.330-08:00The Standard<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At some point, the sun set. The exact moment is foggy, shrouded by years
of ineptitude. Such details are
irrelevant. What does matter is that,
for a time, it was bright – squint, reach for some cheap convenience store
glasses, blinding bright. Sundays would
come and good times would roll. Stressed
vocal cords required days of recovery. The
stadium was packed by the blessed souls in attendance (there was a decades-long
season ticket waiting list). Games were
appointment television for those lacking a ticket to ride. Fans of division rivals were sent home in
shame and with a regrettable beer buzz on the regular. It was a destination town for players, a
place they longed to be; the team turned the marginal into solid contributors
and the good into masters of their craft.
The organization was run with class and ranked among the league’s very
best. Characters with character filled the
locker room. Supporters felt like more than
just fans; we were part of something – our region, our town, our team. A family.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And then?
Darkness. The sun dropped below
the horizon. The light faded. The beautiful colors glistening off the
clouds disappeared. Coaches
departed. An owner passed away. Cornerstone players moved on without
comparable backfills. The head coaching
gig felt like a series of temporary hires.
Big name players came to get paid, not to perform. The losses mounted. The business ethics disintegrated. The passion faded. The ticket waiting list disappeared. There was no apparent accountability on the field
or within the organization. There was no
legitimate ability to imagine anything beyond mediocrity. There was, after three decades of rot, no
hope…for the Washington D.C. football team.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">About six hours northwest of Southern Maryland, there’s
a place that’s like ours used to be. The
journey there wraps around D.C., heads up the I-270 corridor, snakes through
Hagerstown into southwestern Pennsylvania and due west on the PA turnpike. After a short drive down I-376, it appears:
Pittsburgh…Black and Gold country.
There, the beloved Steelers are in the midst of recording another
winning season (they haven’t finished below .500 since 2003!) and are firmly in
playoff contention – again and, seemingly, as always. The fanbase is passionate. The stadium is packed. There is a palatable energy exuding from the
franchise, into the city’s pores and through a nation of fans across the
globe. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But there is a fly in the ointment. The Steelers are hardly winning in style this
season and, by any objective measure, haven’t been Super Bowl contenders in
years. The alibies are sound. The late-career version of Ben Roethlisberger
was choppy, and transitioning from a Hall of Fame quarterback is often
difficult. Accelerating Pittsburgh’s
fall from the league elites was Antonio Brown’s disturbing career self-sabotage
and Le’Veon Bell ruining a budding legendary Steelers career in a bizarre
contract squabble. Regardless, for a
city that is accustomed to winning titles, frustration has grown with the good/not
great Steelers of recent vintage. And
now there’s this: the once whispered calls for head coach Mike Tomlin’s job are
now aired openly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Such are the quibbles of the uninitiated to the depths
of NFL despair.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Removing all emotion, it’s remarkable what Tomlin has
done in Pittsburgh in recent years. The
gap between roster talent and on-field results is significant – the latter
being greater than the former. But the
importance of Tomlin to the Steelers transcends the overachievement of his
teams. Tomlin inherited a unique,
winning culture in Pittsburgh and has dutifully sustained it. When faced with adversity, he defiantly refers
to “The Standard” – a level of expected performance regardless of
circumstance. Tomlin maintains a link to
the franchise’s decorated past and is a cornerstone for a brighter future. He’s a foothold for the organization: an
example for new arrivals and a conscience for veterans with wavering
commitment. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Lose a foundation like Tomlin, and it becomes easy,
perhaps inevitable, to remain adrift.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Same applies in any professional setting.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Same applies in life.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Without a North Star, so to speak, it can all
go dark – trust me.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">If you can be a
beacon like Tomlin, do so; if you find one, grasp it tightly.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-14230054230998009742023-12-29T20:16:00.000-08:002023-12-29T20:16:44.489-08:00A Complicated Knight<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The NFL was my first sports love. As I was coming of age, my football team, the
one in Washington D.C., was consistently among the best - even the very best,
several times over. It is hard to
imagine now. The relics I retain from
that era seem as much magical fiction as historical fact. But it all happened, “Once upon a time”, as
all good stories begin.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A close “2” and “2a” to the NFL were the NHL and
college basketball. I owe my love of
hockey to my dear Uncle Wayne. He
dedicated so much time taking his son and me to Capitals games. I’m eternally grateful. Every nephew should have an Uncle Wayne.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As for college basketball, my timing was
impeccable. I was nine when Patrick
Ewing and Georgetown lost to Michael Jordan and North Carolina in the national
championship, 10 when N.C. State upset Houston’s Phi Slama Jama, 11 when
Georgetown beat Houston to win the national championship, and 12 when they lost
to Villanova. I saw Ralph Sampson, Chris
Mullin, James Worthy, Tim Duncan, Christian Laettner and Grant Hill. I worshipped Terps such as Adrian Branch,
Juan Dixon, Joe Smith, Walt Williams and Len Bias, my first sports hero. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Unlike the NFL, NCAA basketball games were on every
night. A game between giants on a random
Tuesday was a fabulous distraction from my horrendous attempt to flirt with the
cute girl at lunch earlier in the day or the upcoming math test I had no
interest in studying for. Gleaning a few
new moves to try at the next day’s basketball practice was emotionally safer
than forays into adolescent infatuation and far more appealing than algebra.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After Maryland icons Gary Williams and Lefty Driesel,
and long-time Duke head coach and Maryland nemesis Mike Krzyzewski, Bobby
Knight was the college basketball coach who most preoccupied my mind. The curiosity of Knight was multi-faceted: a
brilliant basketball coach who won over 70 percent of his games and three
national championships at Indiana, and an equally indisputable hot head who
coached and seemingly lived like a 24/7 drill sergeant (hence his nickname “The
General”). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When a friend texted me last week that Knight had passed
away, several superlatives and criticisms flooded my mind. Ultimately, I managed but a two-word reply:
Complicated dude. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Knight won nearly 900 games. He hung a bunch of banners. He made Indiana basketball a national
power. His structured and disciplined
approach and demanding coaching style turned many teenage boys into strong
young men well-equipped for life.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Knight was also a bully. He tossed chairs across the court and feigned
use of a whip on players as a motivational technique. He could be verbally and emotionally
abusive. And in the case of former
player Neil Reed, there was documented physical abuse. He was so spiteful over his dismissal from
Indiana after an incident with a student that he shunned the university for
years and skipped a 2016 reunion for his undefeated 1976 team. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Selfish.
Generous. Mean. Kind.
Highly effective. Self-destructive. It was all simultaneously true of Bobby
Knight. His traits were impossible to
reconcile. In a way, he embodied our
complex world of coexisting contradictions.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After his death, social media was filled with positive
stories. It was as if Knight’s
supporters felt compelled to influence the narrative of his legacy,
counterbalance the “yeah buts” and passively apologize for his significant
shortcomings. But Knight was certainly
self-aware. He had to have moments of
self-examination where the broader impact of his behavior was considered. That he never evolved and never yielded,
despite a world yearning for him to do so, is disappointing. It left qualified praise as the tone of his
farewell. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">And that’s a shame.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">But it was Knight’s choice.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">There
was – is - another way.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Coaches like
John Wooden, Dean Smith, Bill Walsh, Mike Krzyzewski and Joe Gibbs followed a
different, and more admirable leadership model.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Like Knight, they all won big, built a culture, benefitted a community
and reached young men in meaningful ways.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">But they did it with a grace that Knight never grasped and absent a
complicated legacy.</span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-79529958152780751762023-12-29T20:12:00.000-08:002024-01-02T20:28:50.626-08:00The Sanctity of Competition<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Remember when humans made telemarketing calls? The next-level annoyance of the computer
voice on the other end of those calls now makes one nostalgic for the uninvited,
person-to-person contact of yesteryear.
Or what about when phones couldn’t suggest finishing words to text
messages? Or when homes lacked voice-commanded
doohickies that could change the television channel or settle a trivia argument
with a spouse? How about stubborn
automated phone trees for everything from a doctor’s office to a credit
card? Good luck circumventing these tangled
systems to reach a live human. And remember
to listen to the message in its duration because “Our menu options have recently
changed.” Being lost in a corn maze has
nothing on the hopelessness of a phone maze.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As for the writing craft, I do wonder what the future
holds. Perhaps it is time for a
disclaimer to accompany this column: every single word you are reading was
generated by a human (me). No ChatGPT
here, my friends. Never. Ever.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Professional integrity aside, artificial intelligence
has arrived, and it promises unreconcilable change: a mind-scrambling
coexistence of fantastic improvements, random frustrations, amazement (how far
we’ve come) and fear (too far?). As
George Will once said, “The future has a way of arriving unannounced.” And here we are. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Sports remain largely an analog-based respite from
technology. Sure, much has changed – how
games are played, in-game communications, advanced statistics, athletic and
orthopedic improvements, and the consumption experience (high-definition
television, high tech stadiums, go anywhere viewing on handheld devices) – but
sports are still about getting the better of the opponent on an individual or
team level. Did the ball go in the
basket? Was the puck buried in the
net? Was the ball barreled up at it
crossed the plate? The scoreboard is
final judge and jury. It is raw,
unpredictable and fantastic. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">At the heart of sports’ allure is the sanctity of the
competition itself – that unequivocable belief in the authenticity of the
combatants’ struggle. Without that,
sports dissolves into nothing more than a charade. The Big Lie, to steal from today’s toxic
political parlance. Something far worse
than professional wrestling, fake reality television and faux live music
concerts. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It would be nice to report that such violations of
trust never happen. Nice just left the
building, though, if it ever was present to begin with. As with most things involving our species,
the lure of fame, fortune, legacy and power has, on a few occasions, caused the
integrity of sports to be recklessly peddled.
Quickly scan any moment in history and this is clear: hubris and greed are
pervasive flaws. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A few of the 1919 Chicago White Sox (Black Sox
scandal) sought a pay day. The New
England Patriots (Spygate), the steroid users of the late 1990s/early 2000s and
the 2017-ish Houston Astros (sign stealing) sought a competitive
advantage. Who knows what Pete Rose
(betting on baseball) was thinking. The
famous are now infamous. All wear a
scarlet letter, their legacies graced with a well-earned asterisk. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Unfortunately, that dubious fraternity may have another
member. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The University of Michigan football team, a speed bump
on Ohio State’s path to the Big Ten crown no more, is now the conference’s
elite team and squarely in the national title conversation. With head coach Jim Harbaugh already under
NCAA investigation and fresh off a self-imposed three-game suspension, the
compliance hawks have returned to Ann Arbor amidst allegations of illegal sign
stealing. Pulling from a familiar damage
control playbook, Harbaugh has denied any knowledge and a lower-level staffer has
been suspended. That we’re left to trust
the NCAA, not exactly a bastion of business ethics, to deliver justice only intensifies
the stench of this situation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Beside holding our noses, where does that leave sports
fans?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Simply to digest another alleged
episode of remarkable arrogance.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">What
was the impact of Michigan’s willful disrespect for competitive integrity? </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Like the Astros and Spygate, there was
certainly some.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">So much for sports being
a safe space from artificial intelligence.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">In a traditional sense, it is; but when it comes to nefarious
information gathering, humans can be as troubling as the machines they
create.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-43647245026239611222023-12-29T20:09:00.000-08:002023-12-29T20:09:33.474-08:00Filling A Void<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Last Saturday, on an idyllic fall afternoon, the
Baltimore Orioles did something they hadn’t done since 2016: take the field for
a playoff game. Between then and now,
there have been many dark seasons, with three reaching the dubious 100-loss
milestone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Plagued by the cringe-worthy ownership of an ailing
Peter Angelos and his family’s adversarial jockeying for team control, the
organization, at least off the field, has been adrift (sound familiar, D.C.
football fans?). That chaos aside, the
baseball operations have been crushing it.
The Orioles parlayed those poor seasons and draft capital into arguably
the best young roster and farm system in MLB.
In 2023, ahead of all expectations, that talent announced its arrival
with a 101-win season and the AL East Pennant.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Despite the euphoria, there is a tinge of sadness in
Birdland. A black circular patch with an
inlayed orange “5” adorns the Orioles’ uniform.
The patch is a tribute to Orioles legend Brooks Robinson, who passed
away on September 26th. Robinson was 86
years old.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The measurables of Robinson’s baseball greatness are
distinguished: 18 All-Star games, 16 Gold Gloves, league MVP (1964), Roberto
Clemente Award (1972), two World Series championships (1966, 1970), World
Series MVP (1970), Baseball Hall of Fame member and an unimaginable defensive
highlight reel. How good was he at third
base? For decades, if anyone at any
level made a great play on the hot corner, teammates and opponents simply
needed to utter “Brooks” with a tip of the cap.
You knew because you knew. He was
the best. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But in a full account of Robinson’s life, the baseball
player would be in the shadow of the man.
Stories are the best way to understand Brooks Robinson, the human. Scott Van Pelt, ESPN anchor and Maryland
native had one. His dad caught a
Robinson foul ball at Memorial Stadium and gave it to Scott, who, as kids are
apt to do, lost it down a storm drain after a stray throw. Years later Van Pelt told the story within
earshot of a Robinson acquaintance. Apparently,
the story got back to Robinson because, shortly thereafter, Van Pelt received a
signed Robinson ball with a note that it hopefully eased the pain of the one
that got away.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sportscaster Rich Eisen had his story. As a younger lad he was part of a charity
golf tournament and, as youth sometimes does, vigorously imbibed the night
before. Nursing a hangover, he became
frustrated when the shuttle to the course no-showed. Eisen called the hotel front desk and asked
if anyone was there from the tournament.
Somehow Robinson ended up on the phone with Eisen, addressed his concern
and had a shuttle sent within minutes. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have two. I
was in Robinson’s company just once – an autograph show in Baltimore. His interactions were fascinating. Robinson treated everyone with the warmth of a
long-time friend. I mean everyone – staff,
fellow luminaries, kids and star-struck, nobody autograph hounds like me. The second is his voice. I don’t remember Robinson the player, but I
do remember him broadcasting Orioles games.
His delivery was so down-to-earth and unassuming. To this 10-year-old kid, he made comic book
stuff – major league baseball and greats like Cal Ripken Jr. and Eddie Murray –
seem like reality (albeit an extraordinary one). He invited you into the Orioles’ living room,
so to speak. All were welcome. He made Orioles baseball feel like family.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Maya Angelou famously said, “People will forget what
you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget
how you made them feel.” Whatever the name Brooks Robinson immediately brings
to your mind, be it a signed ball sent to atone for an adolescent mistake, commandeering
a shuttle to a golf tournament, a ridiculous play at third or even a voice over
the airways on a perfect summer night, he made us all feel a little better – in
the moment and about the course of humanity.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">With Robinson’s death, the world is left less friendly, less humble,
less decent and less kind.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">His passing
leaves a void; the challenge for those left behind is to fill it.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-5572896101174969542023-12-29T20:08:00.000-08:002023-12-29T20:08:44.172-08:00Our Better Selves<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The local Doppler radar looked benign last Saturday
morning. Light rain bands passed through
D.C. and others loomed across the northern neck of Virginia, but Southern
Maryland was precipitation free. This
was a surprise, given the warnings and promised weather calamity from tropical
storm Ophelia. But the visual was
deceptive. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A wider perspective revealed a massive system
spreading rain from South Carolina to western Pennsylvania. When set in motion, the image suggested this day
would be best spent on the couch watching college football. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends
toward justice.” Dr. Martin Luther King
Jr. spoke those words a long time ago.
It came to mind when considering the stark difference between Ophelia’s narrow
and expanded radar imagery. It’s fascinating
how seemingly unrelated things connect. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Very different conclusions can be drawn from a simplified,
micro or immediate consideration – a singular experience, a day or even a year
- of an issue as opposed to broad, long-term analysis. As a stock investor will tell you, growth isn’t
linear; markets rise over time, but they do occasionally fall. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The arc of social progress has encountered recent headwinds. The FBI reported a 35% increase in hate
crimes in 2021. African Americans were
the most likely to suffer from race-based crime; incidents against Asian
Americans were also disproportionately high.
Sikhism and Judaism were the most victimized religions. Hate crimes based on sexual orientation
increased sharply, and gay and transgender victims were the most likely to be
murdered.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A reflective pause to consider that last paragraph is
appropriate. Sobering. Disturbing.
Infuriating. Words that come to
mind. One that didn’t: surprise. These statistics offered no revelation. For a window into society’s pre-existing fear
and consequential anger, see Bud Light. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is, as always, hope. Sports are, despite obvious flaws, fabulously
integrated (at least on the field); performance - not appearance, race,
national origin or belief system - remains the ultimate determinant of
advancement. The best player in baseball
is Japanese (Shohei Ohtani). A Serbian
(Novak Djokovic) is the greatest men’s tennis player of all time and the
reigning NBA Finals MVP (Nikola Jokic). The
face of the NFL is biracial (Patrick Mahomes).
Women’s sports have never been better or more popular. The WNBA is having a moment and its best
player just happens to be lesbian (New York Liberty star Brianna Stewart). While typing this piece (a tip of the cap
from the universe?), news broke that Haley Van Voorhis, a safety for Shenandoah
University, had just become the first female non-kicker to appear in a college
football game.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Despite the hate crime statistics and palatable sense
of national tension, these examples indicate a progressive, increasingly
tolerant world. Another recent sports event
offered additional, macro-level evidence – a widened Doppler view, if you will
– of social progress and Dr. King’s moral arc. After Coco Gauff won the U.S. Open a few weeks
ago, Billie Jean King was among the on-court luminaries. King, after winning the 1972 U.S. Open,
demanded equal pay for the women’s champion.
A year later, the same year King beat Bobby Riggs in the “Battle of the
Sexes” tennis match, and 50 years before Gauff’s championship, the women’s and
men’s champions received the same prize money.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">More time travel: Gauff’s victory occurred over 20
years after Serena and Venus Williams took over women’s tennis. At the time, the Williams’s were more prepared
to dominate the sport than the sport was ready for two dynamic, proud and
unique African American talents from Compton, California to dominate it. Thanks to the Williams’s, Gauff’s victory
occurred in a very different world; her U.S. Open title was less a celebration
of race and more about her being proof of the Williams’s legacy and the
opportunity Gauff now has to influence young girls around the globe. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">This is all evidence of progress.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Slow.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Inconsistent.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">But undoubtedly measurable progress.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">That it comes from sports should not surprise;
our games, while imperfect, have consistently been a leader on inclusion and
acceptance, an example of our better selves and proof, even in the most
challenging moments, that Dr. King’s quote is undeniable fact.</span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-26348833289306756982023-12-29T20:06:00.000-08:002023-12-29T20:06:53.702-08:00Time Well Spent<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The dog days of August deliver a recurring swoon on
the sports calendar. The prior
basketball and hockey seasons are trailing memories; the upcoming seasons
remain months away. Baseball’s playoff
races are just starting to simmer. Golf’s
majors are done. Tennis has nothing to
turn heads. Football is mostly about
fantasy drafts, practice games and ridiculous predictions. To steal a phrase used to describe crappy
albums, it’s all filler with no killer. I
actually caught myself watching a pickleball match and a Canadian Football
League (CFL) game a few weeks ago.
Nothing against pickleball or our pigskin hurling northern neighbors,
but these were not proud moments.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Solace was found, as it often is for middle-age men, in
a Taylor Swift song (epic sarcasm!). The
appropriately titled “August” was the song and its soothing chorus, “But I can
see us lost in the memory, August slipped away into a moment in time.” It did indeed, and with it – September!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Pickleball.
Canadian football. Therapeutic Taylor
Swift sing-alongs. Yeah, maybe not my
strongest opening to a “View.”
Whatever. I know this is a safe
space, one without judgment.
Nevertheless, with dignity evaporating, September’s arrival was a
welcomed tonic. And just two weeks in, September
has exploded with real football, an itch for playoff baseball and an epic U.S.
Open that officially marked the arrival of Coco Gauff to tennis’ center
stage. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Starting with football, perennial powers LSU, Clemson
and Alabama already have losses. As do
the defending Super Bowl champion Kansas City Chiefs. Deion Sanders, a phenomenal source of fun and
intrigue for college football, has backed up his bombast by leading Colorado to
a 2-0 start. For Washington football
fans, it’s like spring has arrived, the windows in a cold, dank house have been
opened and fresh air is pouring in. In
baseball, the Yankees and Red Sox are “battling” for last place, the Mets stink
and the Orioles appear poised for a deep October run – gimme all of that, all
the time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As for Gauff, what’s to say? She was brilliant in winning the U.S. Open
and in realizing the promise she has flashed; Gauff now sits on the throne of
women’s tennis. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What if it was suggested that these on-field/on-court
accomplished paled in comparison to the clarity, hope and power of what has
happened off the fields of play? Remove
the question: that is the suggestion.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">First and last: what I’m about to say does not
diminish the athletic accomplishment of team or individual. Scoreboards produce joy and anguish, they
challenge, validate and build legacies.
But in the end, the scoreboard is just the result of a completed
competition; it is merely an aspect of sports and, arguably, a supporting storyline
to a more significant narrative. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hear me out. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What precedes the kickoff of every NFL game? The national anthem: a few moments to pause,
breath and reflect on our nation’s history, the state of our fragile democracy,
our shared cause, threats to our freedom and the amazing place Americans call
home. After games, players can be seen
shaking hands, embracing, maybe even trading jerseys – all acknowledgements of
a shared grind and an appreciation for the opportunity and elite competition.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As for Gauff, the incredibly simplistic reaction would
be to laud her as the latest tennis phenom to validate the hype with a major
championship victory. That conclusion
would neglect the more profound: poise and maturity far beyond her 19 years,
the inspiration she attributes to trailblazers Serena and Venus Williams, and
the instant-influence she has on young girls nationwide, be they tennis players
or not.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">This all to suggest that when consuming sports, keep
one eye on the scoreboard and another on the magic that happens on the
periphery of the competition itself.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">After the joy of wins and the pain from losses fades, how sports bind,
how they inspire, how they remind us of our shared human experience – this is the
stuff that fascinates, that educates and informs, that makes us fans for
life.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">And, I’d argue, it’s why watching
a pickleball match or a CFL game on a sleepy August night is time well spent.</span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-14959573539608107902023-12-29T20:00:00.000-08:002023-12-29T20:00:03.869-08:00The Enigma<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hope is alive along the north shore of the Allegheny
River. The Pittsburgh Pirates recently selected
Paul Skenes, a stud right-handed pitcher from LSU, with the top overall pick in
the 2023 MLB draft. Skenes has the kind
of stuff to alter a franchise’s trajectory - in wins and losses, butts in seats
and the national consciousness. Of
course, he’s a pitcher, a profoundly fickle and fragile position, so the dreams
of Bucs fans are, as Elton John might suggest, a candle in the wind. Nevertheless, the flame burns – for now. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This begs the question: What if you could guarantee
that Skenes would play 13 years for the Bucs, win 113 games, post a 3.24 ERA, notch
multiple 15-win seasons and one 18-win campaign, never win the Cy Young award,
record 30 or more starts just three times and pitch over 200 innings in a
season just twice? Would Pirates fans
take that deal?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The short answer, without any context, is probably a
firm “no”, followed by a hearty bite of a Primanti Bros. sandwich and a
spirited Pittsburghian declaration of “Yinz crazy or something?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The player who produced those statistics, the one Pirates
fans would likely pass on, is Stephen Strasburg, another generational pitching
talent and the top pick in the 2009 MLB Draft.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The lacking context, of course, could change the
answer. Strasburg’s numbers alone are solid,
but not spectacular – in whole or in a single season. He was, though, a player who burned white
hot. His 14-strikeout debut in 2010
against Skenes’ Pirates was pure magic and somehow surpassed the ridiculous
expectations. It is not hyperbole to declare
that game the moment when D.C. actually became a major league baseball city
again – in its and everyone else’s mind.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then there’s the playoff version of Strasburg: a 6-2
career postseason record with a ridiculous 1.46 ERA. In the 2019 playoffs, Strasburg was a perfect
4-0 and outdueled future Hall of Fame pitcher Justin Verlander in World Series
Games 2 and 6. And there’s really no argument
that Strasburg’s Game 6 masterpiece, with the Nationals facing elimination, is
the greatest individual performance in franchise history. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But the injuries – Strasburg has always been as much
tragedy as triumph. Just two months
after his franchise energizing debut, Strasburg blew out his elbow and was
shelved for a year after Tommy John surgery.
He came back, but battled through all sorts of ailments in the years
that followed. Ultimately 2019 proved to
be his last healthy season. A chronic
nerve issue in his neck and arm necessitated multiple surgeries and has limited
him to just eight starts since that storybook night in Houston in October
2019. Last week, Strasburg, who hasn’t
pitched since early last season, announced his intent to retire in the coming
weeks. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Strasburg’s retirement will end one of the most unique
careers in professional sports. Using a
real estate reference, I can’t come up with a “comp”. Strasburg was more accomplished than Mark
Prior or Kerry Wood, two other talented pitchers with injury-shortened
careers. He’s certainly more comparable
to the shelf life of The Beatles than the Rolling Stones. Was he a disappointment? Not after his World Series performance. But “what could have been” is still very much
part of his story.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In the end, Strasburg will remain an enigma, a mashup
of franchise-altering accomplishments, a championship parade, unfortunate
events and unrealized promise. To
wrestle some clarity from Strasburg’s career, here are a few thoughts. You just never know – no matter the talent or
circumstance – what life will bring. So
have a plan and set goals, but remain present and recognize that plans are
written in the sand next to a powerful surf.
Be steadfast. Work hard. Flat out grind when you must. Celebrate wins and learn from losses. And at the end of the day, the week, the
month, the year or a professional career, find peace in knowing you greeted every
moment, every curveball from life, with your very best – that is the formula
for contentment, the antidote for regret.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Hopefully Strasburg retires with plenty of the former
and not a trace of the latter.</span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-56335689289830573522023-12-29T19:56:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:56:40.864-08:00And Then...Chaos<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Over the years, most of these bleacher musings have
been drafted late at night. With the sun
long set and the day’s duties done, the body rests, the mind calms and the keys
beckon. Midnight often passes unnoticed;
as a hard-wired night owl, the wee-est (a word?) hours of the morning provide the
best inspiration. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Music is a common companion – preferably something old
and on vinyl. The television is usually
on, but muted. Given the time, it is
tuned to some far away, magical west coast sports offering from a place I’ve never
been. The memories are long and
distinguished. Boise State University’s blue
football field. An early fall snow
during a game at BYU. NBA games in
Denver or Portland. Dodgers games in the
setting sun at Chavez Ravine - idyllic.
True to form, at this very moment, the Orioles game in Seattle is on and
Bruce Springsteen’s “Greetings from Asbury Park” record is spinning.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There was a purposeful omission from those late-night
sports credits: the Pac-12 conference, that great western bastion of college
sports and, being three perfect hours behind eastern standard time, a treasured
wingman during the crafting of many “Views”.
UCLA basketball games from Pauley Pavilion. USC football from the Coliseum. Oregon football’s latest fabulously tacky
uniform. Stanford-Cal. Washington-Washington St. Arizona-Arizona St. Those names, places and rivalries – great
memories.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A few years ago, a world without the Pac-12 would have
seemed unimaginable. Then last year, USC
and UCLA, cornerstone Pac-12 schools, announced they would join the B1G
Conference in 2024. The money grab in
college sports, masquerading as conference musical chairs, had reached a new
level. The next obvious question: would
USC’s and UCLA’s departures prove fatal for the Pac-12? Question…answered. Last week, five schools – Oregon, Washington,
Arizona, Arizona St. and Utah, announced they would depart the Pac-12 for the
BIG and Big 12 conferences. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Start drafting the Pac-12’s eulogy. Total chaos just became reality. Where does it end? Do the ACC and Big 12 survive. Or maybe they ultimately get carved up and fed
to the SEC and B1G, thereby creating two super-conferences. Suddenly Maryland’s painful move to the B1G a
decade ago appears to be proactive genius.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The understandable emotional reaction to all of this
is to lament the loss of order, the familiar and how things used to be, and to
point at the fluid landscape, shout it down as soulless greed and declare that
once-great college sports will never be great again. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s a lot of that going around, in sports and
other aspects of life. And I’m guilty in
this case. No Pac-12? More shape-shifting? Bah! But
that is nostalgia’s trap and regrettably naïve.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Stability is an illusion, a temporary state at
best. Change is the only constant, as
they say. And the mysterious and often
cited “they” are, in this case, correct.
The loss of rivalries and player movement are disrupters, but when
crying in our beers, ponder the gains.
College athletes are now free to roam and profit from their labor. They are no longer indentured servants of the
NCAA and universities, helpless to pursue personal interests when coaches move
or programs go on probation. With
scholarships no longer four-year contracts, and with conference alignment more
a casual intent than a marriage, sustained success is harder, but building a
winning program is arguably easier (the test of that statement may be Colorado
this season, where head coach Deion Sanders inherited a 1-11 team and has
aggressively reconstructed the roster). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Admittedly, that little pep talk was as much for me as
it was for you. The Pac-12’s
cannibalization stings. The classic
rivalries will be sorely missed; much like this Maryland fan misses basketball
games against Duke and North Carolina. However,
a Maryland basketball game at UCLA or a football game against USC at the Coliseum
sounds fabulous, particularly if played late on a Saturday night while I am
pounding out words for the following week’s “A View from the Bleachers.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">As for handling life’s non-sports changes, I need
advice more than I am positioned to give it.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">If you have any, send me an email.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I’m always up late.</span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-47814993749935256502023-12-29T19:48:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:48:55.619-08:00Washington's Redemption<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">His escape had been years in the making, accelerating
when hope of a retrial was dashed with the execution of a fellow inmate who
could have vouched for his innocence. He
used a simple rock hammer to painstakingly tunnel through a concrete wall
softened by age and moisture. The main
weapon of this grand grasp at freedom and revenge was his tenacious, bold,
clever and steadfast mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Eventually the pivotal night arrived. The details – including a financial trap for
the warden and his corrupt operation - were set. From his cell, he climbed into the tunnel
hidden behind a poster and shimmied through the wall and into an opening above
a sewage pipe. With a storm raging, he
waited for the crack of thunder, nature’s diversion, before striking the pipe
with a rock. He violently hammered the
pipe until it exploded with a blast of human waste, climbed in and crawled
hundreds of yards underground – beyond the prison walls and under its exterior
fence – until the pipe dumped him into the river. He rose, the river and rain washing him
clean, physically and spiritually. His
face projected pure salvation. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That was how Andy Dufresne escaped Shawshank Prison,
regained his freedom and skipped off to a Mexican beach to live out his days. He was an innocent victim: wrongly convicted
of murdering his wife and her lover. This being a movie, “The Shawshank Redemption”
told Dufresne’s story and wrapped his happy ending in a bow. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dan Snyder’s ownership of the Washington football team
promised no such redemption for its players, coaches and fans. There was no obvious rock hammer, no great
mind to hatch an exit strategy, no weakened infrastructure to exploit and no
sewer pipe to crawl through (had there been, supporters of the Burgundy and
Gold would have gladly done so). No,
Snyder appeared to be the hope-sapping, dream killing burden to bear until his personal
expiration date.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ah, but his absolute depravity intervened. Snyder’s best contribution to our beloved
franchise was being so awful, so vindictive, so incompetent and ultimately so
dangerous to the fabric of the NFL, that he compelled the league and its band
of 31 other owners – a tight fraternity wired for shameless self-protection – to
break ranks and nudge him out the door. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Unlike “The Shawshank Redemption” where the warden met
a disturbing end, Snyder exits with $6B for the franchise he worked to destroy for
25 years with on-field incompetence and off-field disgrace. Hard to say if that matters. Snyder’s price for a clear conscience might
be $6B, but I hope not. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Enough about “him”.
Josh Harris and a new ownership team is in place. Whatever this regime ultimately achieves, right
now it, simply by not being “him”, has granted franchise loyalists redemption. The alumni who built the legacy of this once
proud franchise – guys like Art Monk, John Riggins, Darrell Green and Sonny
Jurgensen – deserve it. Current players who
have had to perform in Snyder’s darkness deserve it. Media who have covered a soap opera more than
a football team deserve it. And the
fans, whose great memories of this team and of Sundays with friends and
family…deserve it perhaps most of all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are two more applicable references from “The Shawshank
Redemption.” Dufresne had a passion for
geology and the fascinating things “pressure and time” have created on our
planet. In the end, it was pressure –
from sponsors, the media, minority partners, the NFL, fans willing to turn away
from what they once loved and the brave women who exposed the moral rot of
Snyder’s regime – and time…patience from all the above…that led Snyder to
conclude that taking $6M and disappearing was his best option.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Lastly, Dufresne was a hopeful soul.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">When speaking of it while incarcerated,
“Red”, Dufresne’s best friend in Shawshank Prison, cautioned, “Hope is a
dangerous thing.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Hope can drive a man
insane.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">It’s got no use on the
inside.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">You better get used to that
idea.” Faithful supporters of Washington football, those whose hearts were
trapped inside Snyder’s walls, had gotten used to that idea.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">But we’re on the outside now and it’s okay to
hope again.</span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-7819675208959172252023-12-29T19:44:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:44:14.777-08:00The Character Test<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In 2009, then University of Connecticut men’s
basketball head coach Jim Calhoun had a moment – at least his ego did. With the state of Connecticut running a
budget deficit, Calhoun, then making over $1.5 million per year, was pressed
about being the state’s highest paid employee.
The question didn’t make it out of the reporter’s mouth before Calhoun
launched into a holier-than-thou tirade where he cited the $12 million in
revenue his team generated for the university and boasted that the state would
see “not a dime back” of his salary. The
performance was indicative of a man who felt so untouchable that he had
complete comfort being a horse’s backside and letting his prodigious ego roam. It was distasteful, but at that point in
time, with two national championships on his resume, Calhoun was not incorrect. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Calhoun’s situation – his psychological perch and his salary
– were not and are not unique. I suspect
back then in 2009, and today, nearly 15 years later, the highest paid state
employee is the men’s basketball coach or football coach of the state’s athletic
crown jewel public institution. Whatever
you think of that, it is a reflection of capitalism and the dominance of sports
as an entertainment entity in America. Derrieres
in seats directly fill university coffers.
More importantly, eyes on the television screen generate advertisement
revenue, which creates lucrative television contracts and stupid money for
institutions, especially those in the power conferences.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The pressure to financially keep up with the Joneses
is enormous. It led to Maryland’s
departure from the ACC (still getting over that) and all sorts of other
conference alignment chaos and cannibalism (USC and UCLA are headed to the B1G
Conference for crying out loud). The
money is so obnoxious that the NCAA finally broke down and permitted athletes
to profit via NIL (Name, Image and Likeness) agreements. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For a long time, a powerful, charismatic head coach -
a person who can turn adolescents into adults, who can establish a talent
pipeline, produce professional athletes and appease university donors – has
been the key to collegiate athletic relevance.
The formula has evolved over time, but it is an environment that created
Paul “Bear” Bryant, Bobby Knight, Joe Paterno, Bobby Bowden, Pete Carroll, Mike
Krzyzewski, Gary Williams, Urban Meyer, John Thompson and Rick Pitino. Current coaches like Nick Saban, John
Calipari, Bill Self, Kirby Smart and Dabo Swinney have inherited college sports’
thrones and ruled even larger kingdoms. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Those names…several make you cringe, right? Nothing needs to be said about Knight and
Paterno. Carroll left USC in
flames. Meyer, Pitino…sheesh. Bowden has had wins stripped from his record. Self was suspended last season due to an
on-going FBI investigation. Smart is
embroiled in controversy. The price of
winning is steep and the ethical risk is high, but universities are
consistently willing to write big checks and roll the dice. Money rules the day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Northwestern is the latest institution to fall on its
sword. And this one cut deep. In the second half of the 20<sup>th</sup>
century, Northwestern was a football wasteland.
Then Pat Fitzgerald arrived in the mid-1990s, and the star linebacker
led the Wildcats to prominence and a Rose Bowl win in 1996. Fitzgerald returned to Northwestern as an
assistant coach in 2001 and became head coach in 2006. Fairy tale stuff, right? Yeah, until it wasn’t…until it was discovered
that Fitzgerald, at best, turned a blind eye to alleged sexually violent hazing
of underperforming players. In a typical
grasp to save the iconic coach, Northwestern first suspended Fitzgerald for
only two weeks, only to fire him days later, presumably after the
transgressions transcended the bubble of major college sports and were
subjected to common sense.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Whether it be the Catholic Church or politicians who often
leave constituents longing for better representation (the great unfortunate
political unifier), power, combined with little fear of consequence, often
undercuts the most basic ethical and moral standards. As Abraham Lincoln said, “Nearly all men can
stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him
power.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Fitzgerald is just the latest to reinforce the wisdom
of those old words. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-89868289786444717812023-12-29T19:42:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:42:37.237-08:00Debating Technology<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The delirious crowd counted off the waning seconds in
unison. One team sauntered off the field
stunned and dejected; the other basked in the ultimate victory. A band played in the background and thousands
of jubilant souls belted out the fight song.
Players donned championship attire.
Media swarmed for interviews with the conquering heroes. League luminaries presented the championship
trophy. Clips from the locker room
conveyed the childlike joy of a group that had ascended their profession’s
summit. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This was as good as it gets – for every executive,
coach, player and ardent fan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Those were the concluding scenes of Super Bowl XXVI, a
resounding 37-24 Washington dismantling of the Buffalo Bills at the Metrodome
in Minneapolis, Minnesota. It was
Washington’s fourth Super Bowl appearance in 10 seasons and its third
championship. The organization was the
class of professional football; its fanbase was among the largest and most passionate
in professional sports. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Much has happened in the world of Washington football in
the years since that January night in 1992 – an understatement typed with palatable
anger. And so, when NFL Network recently
broadcast an unabridged re-run of the game, I couldn’t help but watch, if only
to remember what once was. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The game demanded other comparisons. NFL football, of course, is played
differently now – more passing, deemphasized running and less hitting. But the antiquated technology jumped off the
screen. The lack of high definition and
limited camera angles offered a much different viewing experience. Close plays passed without a review. Replays lacked clarity and limitless
angles. Overall, the game seemed to have
a haze over it as Canadian wildfire smoke had penetrated the Metrodome.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It wasn’t better.
It wasn’t worse. It was just
different. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In the quiet reflection after the game ended, contemplating
the differences between 1992 and 2023 were inevitable. The “evolution” isn’t constrained to football;
there were 30 years of technological growth to consider. Phones are now all-encompassing personal
communication and life-facilitating devices.
Face-to-screen time is far more common than face-to-face time. Anxiety is up; mental health is down. Artificial Intelligence is infiltrating our
lives – first “customer support” bots, now artificial readers of college
application essays and sources of music, among other more sinister uses. Humans are no better than the machines. Lives are carefully constructed and broadcast
through social media platforms. Photos are
so filtered that if you met the person, in person, the resemblance would be
distant, at best. Eagerly published, hand-selected
personal propaganda screams “Look at my perfect moment…and lament your mundane
life”. Likes and followers are oddly
coveted forms social validation and misconstrued correlations to self-worth. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On the other hand, what an amazing world we occupy. Virtual work.
Convenient contact with family and friends. The ability to track kids! Information access. Greater diversity of thought. A world with less firm boarders. The ease with which we can do almost anything
boggles the mind - especially minds (like mine) that remember when a paper map
was required for road trips, new goods could be acquired only through store
visits and adolescent boys had to woo adolescent girls via in-person charm or
calls on her parent’s landline – both equally terrifying. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With the Super Bowl XXVI re-run fresh in the mind, I
attended a Brandi Carlile concert at Wolf Trap recently. There was a moment where I just observed the
delirious crowd – humans lost in an unplugged, live moment that required no
internet connection. I was left convinced
that technological wizardry was not aiding human advancement. But then I thought about how the tickets were
acquired. The GPS that led us care-free
to the site. The text messages that
quickly brought our group together. The
communications we maintained with our kids, precariously left at home, during
the evening. The photos and videos we
captured. Much of it would have been
impossible three decades ago.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Am I sold on tech?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Label me undecided.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">But tech is
here, for good or ill.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">So, I’ll embrace
it with necessary suspicion.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">As the
opening jingle to an old television show said, “You take the good.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">You take the bad.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">You take them both and there you have – The
Facts of Life.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-279148480672134422023-12-29T19:27:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:27:54.848-08:00Blurred Lines<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Days after the last “View from the Bleachers” rolled
off the presses and hit local newsstands, a sports bombshell dropped. Normally when a seismic event occurs in the
world sports shortly after submitting a column, I cringe and lament the lost
opportunity. This time, I appreciated
the breather; this was a lot to process.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sworn enemies united, with no regard for the limits of
the human imagination. The script was straight
out of Vince McMahon’s pro wrestling magic hat.
Hulk Hogan embraced the dark side.
Rowdy Roddy Piper stepped into the light. Carolina and Duke, Ohio State and Michigan,
and the Boston Red Sox and New Yankees merged to become one. Batman and Joker joined forces; for good or
ill it is not known.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The humorous grasp is a coping mechanism. The PGA Tour’s decision to bury the
previously assumed unburiable (not an actual word…English can’t even describe
this) hatchet and merging with Saudi Arabia-funded LIV Golf is? Shocking.
Infuriating. Disturbing. Sad.
Unethical. Immoral. Certainly, some of those things. Perhaps all of those things. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Brief history: LIV Golf was founded in 2021; events
began in 2022. Financially backed by
Saudi Arabia’s Public Investment Fund, LIV Golf was able to entice many of the
world’s best players – Dustin Johnson, Brooks Koepka, Bryson DeChambeau, Phil
Mickelson and Patrick Reed, among others - to join, or stated more frankly, to
defect from the PGA Tour, with irresistible, soul-selling financial
packages. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Soul-selling – an intentionally pejorative term. Accepting checks from the current Saudi
regime is a test of conscience, or evidence of a lack thereof. The issue?
Unfamiliar with Saudi Arabia’s human rights record? The brutal murder of journalist Jamal Khashoggi? Women’s rights? Saudi’s ties to 9-11? Get Google-ing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Along those lines, several prominent golfers remained
steadfastly loyal to the PGA Tour. Tiger
Woods was one. The most vocal, though,
was Rory McIlroy. The war of words was
no joke; neither were the checks the PGA Tour loyalists turned down. And now the organization who they defended
just wed the presumed enemy. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Why did the PGA Tour yield? The talking heads claim the unification will
help grow the game of golf worldwide.
How quaint. Also noted were on-going
lawsuits and LIV’s near limitless ability to bankroll litigation in
perpetuity. Maybe that’s true. Like Thanos, maybe this merger was
inevitable. What is certain is that both
the PGA Tour and LIV are healthier financially as a combined force. “Follow the money”, as Deep Throat said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Since this column’s beginning many years ago, the
entries connecting sports with a topical political issue have prompted the most
comments. In most cases, it was athletes
or individuals expressing a political opinion; in others, I took some liberties
to connect the sports and political dots.
The feedback ranged from spirited agreement, to passionate disagreement
or an agnostic “stick to sports.” This
time is different: it’s an entire organization – the PGA Tour – eviscerating
the imaginary line (yes, it doesn’t exist...never has) between sports and
politics. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With that welcomed time to process this merger, my
thoughts are more reflective. I don’t
like it. Never will. I will consume golf differently now. But the PGA Tour’s hypocritical okey-doke is
just the latest evidence that most things in life come with irreconcilable conflict. There is no perfect job or relationship. Every product we use is uncomfortable for some
reason – for the resources it requires, its contributions to climate change or the
atrocious working conditions for the human labor that produced it. No
religion or religious purveyor completely walks the walk of the talk they talk. Sports are littered with owners and players
who are simply bad humans. Capitalism
itself rewards the most effective, not the most ethical or moral. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The challenge, then, is to determine where to flex,
where your passions lie, what your non-negotiables are and where your
conscience becomes heavy – in other words, where the joy of sport (or whatever
the topic) is overcome by the discomfort.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I know how I felt about golf before the LIV merger.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">My opinion in future I do not know.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Right now, it makes me uncomfortable; the
PGA-LIV Tour is a hard pass.</span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-57118991480296830172023-12-29T19:26:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:26:34.617-08:00Return to Form<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The trained eye of an experienced sports fan can tell
immediately. The athlete is in motion,
plants hard to alter direction and, without contact, crumples to the ground clutching
a knee. The replay delivers the damning
evidence: as the athlete’s foot slams to the ground and body pivots, the knee
buckles and collapses inward.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The athlete knows too.
It feels like disaster. A
movement they’ve done a thousand times is suddenly greeted with a disturbing
pop, as femur slams into tibia, and the stomach-turning sensation of a major
joint moving in a foreign and damaging way.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When you see it, you see it. When you experience it, you experience
it. The only question is the extent of
the collateral damage – a medial collateral ligament tear or meniscus
implications. The primary verdict is
known: a torn Anterior Cruciate Ligament (ACL).
A season ends and a team’s and an athlete’s future are now uncertain - and
it happens just like that (writer snaps finger). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Modern medicine being the totally awesome thing it is,
a torn ACL is more of a career-pausing than the career-altering/ending injury
it was years ago. But it’s still no
joke. Due to poor blood flow in the area
and the fibrous nature of the ligament, ACLs don’t heal well on their own. They usually require reconstructive surgery
using either harvested soft tissue from the patient’s patella tendon or
hamstring, or a cadaver. Return to
activity is somewhere in the nine-month range; return to pre-injury form is
more in the 12-to-18-month range.
Doable, but not great.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In an April 2021 game against the Golden State
Warriors, Denver Nuggets rising star point guard Jamal Murray penetrated the
lane, planted his left leg, fell and slide in a heap under the basket. The replay told the story. The subsequent MRI confirmed the obvious:
torn ACL. The injury ended Murray’s
season, cost him the next one too, and complicated the growth of one the NBAs
best young teams.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Have you seen “The Super Mario Bros. Movie”? It is a blast of irresistible nostalgia for
anyone who grew up in the 1980s playing Nintendo or parents who reared kids in
this millennium and battled Bowser on the Wii game consol. I am both of those things; so, when my
16-year-old asked if his old man wanted to jump in the way-back machine and
catch the flick, our tickets were punched.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The movie checked all the expected blocks. There was much to absorb and many emotions
were stirred. But one message dominated our
conversation on the way home: perseverance.
In many scenes, Mario faced doubts about his abilities (beware of
fault-finders!) and seemingly insurmountable odds. There were questions about his plumbing skills
and chances in thwarting Bowser’s attack.
Without spoiling too much, he overcame them all with persistence,
bravery and a palatable belief in himself. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Of course, happy endings are Hollywood’s greatest and
most predictable trick. Murray, in his
rehab and return from an ACL injury, was guaranteed no such conclusion. There was no script writer on standby to pen
a fairy tale ending. No matter…Murray is
in the process of writing his own.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Murray returned to the court this season and, along
with all-world center Nikola Jokic, led the Nuggets to the best record in the Western
Conference. The Nuggets charged through
the playoffs, into the NBA Finals and are, as of this writing, just three wins
from the franchise’s first NBA title.
Jokic deserves much credit, but in crunch time, it is often Murray who
has taken the lead role. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Suffice to say, Murray is a long way from that night
in April 2021 when he laid under the basket, grasping a wounded knee, his once
clear path to stardom now cloudy.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">His
return to form is a credit to him and his medical team; it is also a reminder
that the tonic for any adversity is faith, hard work and perseverance.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Murray doesn’t have the hops of Super Mario -
he isn’t leaping Koopa Troopas or Goombas - but his determined comeback would
certainly prompt a tip of the cap from our favorite mustachioed video game and movie
hero.</span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-69031530670747776362023-12-29T19:24:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:24:35.520-08:00Moments<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Foiled by a crashed ticket service (nameless, for now,
to protect the guilty) last fall, and with time slipping away, the prospects
seemed bleak. There was still a way
through the gate, but the cost resembled a mortgage payment, not a few hours of
entertainment. Two young hearts weren’t
broken, but with time running out and no viable options, they braced for disappointment.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then light fought through the clouds. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Dad, I just got a ticket notification…what do I
do?” “Where?”, I asked. “Philly…on Saturday night. The tickets are still a lot…oh, and we have
four minutes to decide”, said my daughter. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Let me offer a couple things. First, “a lot” was a A LOT less than I had
been tracking on the secondary market, so this flicker of hope had my
attention. But it came out of
nowhere. The four minutes to decide were
trimmed to two-and-a-half once my slowing, middle-age brain processed this
unexpected possibility and the adrenaline it stoked. Pressure.
With no idea if this date worked for our family, no hotel, no clue if
that other fragile heart I mentioned was available or could get from school in Boston
to Philly, I gave my daughter the go-ahead.
Details, details. Two dreams were
on the line. “No” or “Let me think about
it” weren’t on the menu. “Yes” was the
only option. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And that’s how my daughter and niece, after months of
struggle, researching, checking and crying (lots and lots of crying), survived
Ticketmaster’s debacle and scored seats to Taylor Swift’s concert.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In the end, all those unknowns worked out just fine –
the drive to Philadelphia, my niece’s availability and train from Boston, the
two hours of prep (two hours!) the ladies needed before the concert and finding
our way through the maze of Swifties. On
the drive home, one word dominated my thoughts: moments. All that struggle, all the worry, the time,
the cost: none of it mattered now. Those
two young ladies (besties) had a moment together, one that created a precious,
lifetime memory. Priceless stuff. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With the sale of the Washington Commanders moving closer
to completion, long-suffering fans of the Burgundy and Gold are starting to view
the future through a decidedly different lens.
At the very least, prospective owner Josh Harris seems capable of
building a professional organization that fans can be proud to root for
again. And what if the team wins? Regularly.
Can you imagine? Maybe, maybe not
(you to be at least 40-years-old to remember when this franchise had sustained
success). I can…and it was
glorious. At its peak, the team cut
through every petty difference even a town like Washington, D.C. and its
surrounding region could muster – a razor sharp knife through buttery political
sludge. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">From 1981 into the early 1990s, D.C. had a football
moment. The scramble for tickets, the
pre-game prep, the euphoria of the event, the absolute and unqualified
togetherness of those wearing the colors – it was very similar to a Taylor
Swift concert. Wins put a spring in your
step all week. Loses hurt until at least
Wednesday. And then, as Swift says in
her song “August”, it all “…slipped away into a moment in time.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It can happen again.
The Caps hoisted the Stanley Cup in 2018. The Nats had their World Series moment in
2019. Sometimes moments are more like
“Eras” (see what I did there, Swifties?).
The Pittsburgh Steelers of the 1970s.
Duke basketball. The Packers of
the 1960s, then with Brett Favre and Aaron Rodgers. Serena Williams and Roger Federer. Michael Jordan’s Chicago Bulls. Alabama football – with Paul “Bear” Bryant
and now with Nick Saban. The Tom
Brady-Bill Belichick Patriots. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dan Snyder broke us: we concluded (correctly) that
nothing good would come from his ownership.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Josh Harris and his ownership team haven’t made a single football move
yet.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">They haven’t even officially
assumed the helm of the Commanders.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">But
maybe the phoenix (Harris) will rise from the ashes (Snyder) – that’s the
prevailing feeling now.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Harris has allowed
us to dream again.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">And if that Taylor
Swift experience proved anything, it was that a dream, held onto tightly, can produce
an unforgettable moment.</span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-50950498616258454032023-12-29T19:23:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:23:21.600-08:00If...<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">By Ronald
N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Former NFL
kicker Adam Vinatieri was, by my count, the last. Born on December 28, 1972, we are nearly the exact
age. So, as long he kicked in the NFL,
which he did until age 47 in 2019, I retained some argument, albeit flickering
and desperate, that I was still generally the same age as current elite
athletes – and if they could still do it at the highest level, then I still had
a little athletic gas left in the tank.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">I’m not
alone here. Right? Please say I’m right. Don’t leave me hanging. Aged athletes of any skill level, past or
present - high school bench warmers, church league softball players, marginal
college intramural participants – do this.
We hate admitting it’s over, even if, by all reasonable accounts, we
know it’s over. Any data points that can
be mined or cobbled together to conclude that some athleticism remains in our aging
legs and creaky joints is psychological gold and the basis of boastful claims. That our spouses furrow their brows, give us
side eye or burst into heckling laughter at our athletic hubris matters not. There’s no shame in our game. Plus, it’s not like we have to actually prove
it – why not talk the talk if there is no reasonable expectation of having to
walk the walk? If pride is indeed a
deadly sin, proud sinners are we. Once a
competitor, always a competitor.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Even with
Vinatieri long gone from the NFL, and with him any claim that I have to real
athletic ability, I root for aging athletes – i.e., anyone cheating father time
and stretching elite performance, or just a roster spot, far beyond perceived date
of birth constraints. How do they do
it? Luck. Hard work.
Determination. Tenacity. Finding a niche. Yeah…all of that. But the most prominent and powerful
sustaining force? Wisdom.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">In Ernest
Heminway’s “A Farewell to Arms”, there’s an interesting conversation between
Count Greffi, an elderly Italian, and Lieutenant Frederic Henry, the main
character. As Greffi reveals struggles
with his age, brittle body and flickering spirit, Henry offers, “But you are
wise.” Greffi replies, “No, that is the
great fallacy; the wisdom of old men.
They do not grow wise. They grow
careful.” To which Henry responds,
“Perhaps that is wisdom.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Athletes
always occupy some point on a double line graph. Think of time along the horizontal axis and a
scale of wisdom and athleticism on the vertical axis. The first line, athleticism, starts high-left
and trails off over time. Wisdom behaves
inversely: starting low in one’s youth and increasing over time. For a brief period, the lines remain in close
proximity – an athlete’s prime. Stated
differently, an athlete starts being able to do most things, but struggles with
knowing what to do. As a career ends,
the veteran athlete knows what to do; the body just isn’t always a willing
partner. It reminds of that popular
quote, attributed to Henri Estienne and Sigmund Freud, among others: “If youth
only knew; if age only could.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">The cycle
of life follows an athlete’s chart.
Parents feed off the energy of their kids and impart their wisdom over
time. Long-tenured employees are
energized by the ideas and optimism of new hires while sharing priceless
professional knowledge only gained through experience. In time, those kids turn into parents one day
and young professionals turn in to bosses – and the cycle repeats. It is a beautiful thing – a symbiotic relationship
between young and old, fresh energy and sage wisdom. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">As for me
and Adam Vinatieri, we’ve embraced our place on the curve and the huge, growing
gap between our increasing wisdom and evaporating athleticism. Retirement is fitting. But you know, there is this one data point in
sports history that keeps the door ajar.
Back in 1965, a 59-year-old Satchel Paige, 12 years removed from his
last MLB game, pitched three scoreless innings for the Kansas City Athletics
against the Boston Red Sox. I’m not
saying there’s a chance of a comeback for me, Vinatieri or any retired athlete,
but I’m not saying there isn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">My wife is
laughing.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">It can’t be at me, right?</span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-22253635880810225062023-12-29T19:21:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:21:44.605-08:00Play Ball!<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In 1989, Ray Kinsella was struggling to keep his
farm. The bankers breathing down his
neck should have been his priority, not using precious acreage to build a
baseball field. But Kinsella was taking
direction from something beyond this realm, something he heard - something only
he heard. The ethereal message prompted
him to travel east to Boston to encounter an emotionally broken writer, who had
long since stopped giving a damn about the world, and coax him into attending a
Red Sox game. It included a time-traveling
search for a non-descript minor-leaguer-turned-physician and to pick up a
random hitchhiker on his way back to Iowa.
Why? This was, by all rational
accounts, madness born from the strain of losing one’s livelihood.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Kinsella was undeterred. He collected the characters along this
mystical crumb trail and built the baseball field, and what the voice had
promised – that if he built it “they will come” – came true. The 1919 Black Sox came. Kinsella’s father came. Then people came to watch to them all. Kinsella’s “Field of Dreams” had saved his farm. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And now, emboldened by Kinsella and an iconic baseball
flick, a statement: I believe old softball fields talk. Games continue to be played on them, whether
they exist in this dimension or not. I
am convinced of this. I drive through
our beautiful county and I see them – some still in use, others repurposed in
the name of economic growth and still others reclaimed by nature. No matter - they are all still alive. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Heading down Newtowne Neck Road and turning right on
Bayside, I see them: The Hobos are out there, locked in a magnificent tussle
against an arch rival. It’s hot, the sun
is low on the horizon and the stands are packed. It is…perfect. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Cruising north on 235, there’s more. I hear the roar of the crowd as I pass the
Hollywood Stars’ field and recall epic struggles of yesteryear on the now
vanished Hill’s Club diamond. The most
poignant, perhaps because I pass it daily or that it was once the epicenter of
county softball, are drives past the old Pennie’s ballfield. The sandlot, overwhelmed by nature, is no
longer visible and the bar is a rotting shell, but I still see both in all
their glory. Games are being played
under the lights while broadcast on local radio and cars are stuffed into the
parking lot right up to the edge of Route 5.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">These memories bend time. I look at these fields, where they are or
were, and I’m 10-years-old again. At
Kinsella’s Iowa field, players had nicknames like Shoeless Joe (Joe Jackson)
and Moonlight (Archie Graham). The
softball giants I watched had names like Hondo, Whale Bone, Guts, Smurf,
Harper, Dirt, Snake, Dinks, Boogie Man and Cakes – all characters with
character. I was just as starstruck as
Kinsella was when he was watching his “ghosts.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It being spring again, the great local softball cycle
is poised to start anew. Some of the old
fields remain; new ones now exist. Player
nicknames are different and uniforms and equipment have evolved. But the game remains fundamentally unchanged. Somewhere in the crowds this season there
will be a 10-year-old kid completely mesmerized by it all – the competition,
the effort, the spilled blood, the sound of ball meeting bat, the thrill of a
double play, the naughty words that flow freely in dugouts and the fabulous
smell of sweat and beer after games end.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This will all seep into the kid’s bones; it will
become part of the youngster’s DNA. Carrying
these memories like untouchable software code, the lad will play the game later
in life with the same joy and fervor. And
one day that little kid will reach middle age and ponder it all with a smile,
without hardly noticing the words being typed for a soon-to-be-published story
in the local paper. It’s magic – and not
much different than players emerging from a corn field to play a game on a
diamond in Iowa.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">It’s time to play softball.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Enjoy the games.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">But above all, file away the memories.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-42422285463120515212023-12-29T19:20:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:20:41.211-08:00Disagreements, Handshakes and Beer<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The calendar is light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>March Madness and baseball’s opening day have passed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The NHL and NBA playoffs haven’t
started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The NFL draft is weeks
away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What then?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In these bleachers we still lurk, looking for
inspiration, something to quicken the pulse, to bet on, or to argue and fuss
about.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That’s it: a good old fashioned verbal sparing among
friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why not?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Recognizing I have the stage here (so long as
you don’t give me the hook), and 700 words of uninterrupted monologue, I ask
for your patience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of this will prompt
applause (or at least a quiet, affirming grin).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Irritation will be the defining emotion for others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There will be a little bit of both for
everyone – of this, I’m sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, stick
with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And thanks – in advance – for
the time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Here are some statements about music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Rolling Stones are the greatest band
ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Longevity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ridiculously deep catalog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Killer live act.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one has written better songs than Bob
Dylan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Singers: Aretha Franklin has no
peer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her album “I Never Loved A Man The Way That I
Love You” is appointment listening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do
so soon if not immediately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one has
ever played the trumpet like Miles Davis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s a difficult admission because I love New Orleans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if you love New Orleans, well…Louis Armstrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To square with Mr. Armstrong, I anoint him jazz’s
greatest artist of all time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There, I
feel better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As for today’s music,
there’s good stuff out there if you hunt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But most of the popular stuff is artificial-intelligence-generated
crap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m laughing as I type that but
I’m not entirely joking…it sounds like AI!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The planet’s climate is in peril.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why this doesn’t bind us is baffling; it
threatens our security, the homes of millions, global stability and, for many
devout people, the creator’s work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Influencers”
and Kardashians are overpaid and overrated; teachers are underpaid and
underrated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The obsession with trivial
quibbles, demonization of fellow Americans and disregard of the truth, ignores
existential threats and emboldens our real enemies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The concentration of wealth in the United
States is disturbing; the lack of support for candidates proposing to address
it is confounding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a parent, the inaction
to combat gun violence, to include common sense gun control, is maddening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And for sports, the reason you stopped by, enjoy the
parade of likes and dislikes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Masters had me in mental knots last weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The LIV golfers annoy me – mercenaries chasing a bigger pot of gold – as
does Augusta National and its record of racial and gender exclusion (no African
American or female members until 1990 and 2012, respectively).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A “tradition unlike any other”?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it’s The Masters – azaleas in bloom, Jim
Nance’s soothing voice and all the best golfers competing for the green jacket
– golf’s Eden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Couple points on basketball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Michael Jordan is the greatest player of all
time, okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you could pick one player
to win one game, it’s Jordan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Second, I
hate “load management” – stars sitting out games.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jalen Rose has a great idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of the statistical champs – scoring,
rebounds, etc. - being crowned based on highest average, give it to the player
who accumulated the most (points, rebounds, assists, etc.).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Love it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And finally – baseball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m crushing on the pitch clock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do I feel when dumfounded pitchers and
hitters get called for violations?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Glee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life is too short to see a
batter adjust his helmet, gloves and other particulars after every pitch or
pitchers staring blankly at the catcher in the set position with no intention
of delivering a pitch before next Tuesday.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s a chance you find most of that agreeable;
others find much of it nonsense, if not pure lunacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Universal agreement or disagreement is
unlikely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which is fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are few absolutes in music, politics,
sports or elsewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Opinions are
entitlements.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Conversations are
healthy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Disagreements broaden
perspectives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in the end, there’s a
handshake and a beer (if the parties are so inclined), a shared love of a team,
a sport or a country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Or at least that’s how it was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How it should be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How it must be again.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-41055465571556728502023-12-29T19:17:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:17:21.568-08:00Dream On <p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">By Ronald
N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Unease. Discomfort.
Frustration. Anger. Anxiety.
Fear. These are the emotional
bedfellows of unwanted change. And fear,
well, fear is the first step on the path to the dark side, according to Master
Yoda. Resist that, we must; but change
is an escapable force.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">If you
have a few decades on your odometer, enough to have experienced the 1990s, if
not the 1980s (or before), do you ever just stop and look around and wonder, in
the words of the Talking Heads and the incomparable David Byrne, “You may find
yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile; you may find yourself in a
beautiful house, with a beautiful wife; and you may ask yourself, well how did
I get here?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Consider
how the tried-and-true American road trip has changed. Destinations would be selected based on
word-of-mouth suggestions about magical places or alluring pamphlets. Reservations were made by calling hotels and
comparing prices, and required talking to other humans (gasp). The drive itself was somewhat dicey –
uncertain directions, carelessly unfolded maps and for kids, hours of
antiquated handheld devices, bad radio stations and significant boredom. Clark Griswold’s journey to Walley World in National
Lampoon’s Vacation was a comic embellishment of such adventures, but it worked
because it wasn’t that far disconnected from reality. Now you can Google map locations, easily find
restaurants and activities, and GPS will prevent any wrong turns into desert
wastelands. And with virtual reality and
the Metaverse coming, soon “going places” won’t require leaving home. Sheesh…the risk of a wrong turn or a bad
hotel experience has been solved!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">And what
about raising teenagers? Once upon a
time I could exit my parents’ house with a cryptic description of where my
buddies and I were headed (even though I knew exactly what mischief was
planned). Now parents can track kids’
locations, reach them by phone at any moment and even get data on their driving
practices. As a parent now, I often
wonder if this is better; while information is power, ignorance is bliss. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Speaking
of change, how about a reading assignment, class? Check out Sports Illustrated’s recent piece
titled “Death of the Local Sports Anchor.”
It is a journey back to a time before the dominance of ESPN, when local
sports anchors were gods. And spoiled we
were in the D.C. region with giants like George Michael (The Sports Machine)
and the comic genius of Glenn Brenner (The Weenie of the Week). You know what made vegetables taste better in
1984? Scarfing them down while watching Brenner
crack jokes with Sonny Jurgensen and Michael and Jim Vance ham it up over the
latest crazy sports happening during the six o’clock news on Channel 9 and 4,
respectively.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">I do miss
those days. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Which
brings this meandering article to the point of all this change talk: the sale
of the Washington Commanders. What began
as a glimmer of hope last fall, but one to be received with skepticism given
the seller, has now gained sufficient momentum and generated enough smoke to
conclude that there is actually a healthy fire of change ablaze. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">File this
under “not all change is bad.” The
thought of our football team cleansed of any vestige of Dan Snyder produces not
one of those aforementioned negative emotions.
No, the exit of Snyder is a path from the dark, back into the
light. It allows dreams of winning
football and a new stadium in D.C., of an owner who doesn’t meddle and an
organization that doesn’t objectify women, maintain a toxic workplace, cut
shady financial deals and bleed its fans dry of every hard-earned dime. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Every
time that I look in the mirror; all these lines on my face getting clearer; the
past is gone.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">These are the opening
lyrics to Aerosmith’s classic “Dream On”; the words capture the nearing end of Snyder’s
reign of terror, one that has battered a once great beacon of the DMV
community.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And while that new
organization won’t be covered like Brenner and Michael did on those cherished
sports segments of yesteryear, perhaps that great feeling of pride in the…in our…burgundy
and gold can be regenerated again.</span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-32772015177884963722023-12-29T19:15:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:15:52.505-08:00Lawn Maintenance<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Under average driving conditions, just two-and-half
hours behind the wheel will cover the drive from Philadelphia to the University
of Maryland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The directions are simple:
merge on to I-95 South, set the cruise control until the D.C. Beltway, take the
Route 1/College Park exit, head south for a couple minutes and…Welcome to
Turtleville.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you miss the turn onto
campus, purely by accident of course, RJ Bentley’s is just down the road and
offers adult elixirs, artery-clogging culinary treats and a full immersion into
Terrapin mania.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A handful of years ago, Hakim Hart and Donta Scott
made that trip from Philly while prospecting for a college and a basketball
destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The allure of Maryland
would have been understandable for the two Philadelphia residents – a school
close to home and a basketball program, one that had made the NCAA Tournament
in four of its first five years since joining the Big 10 conference, that
offered stability and consistent access to college basketball’s best
competition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Fast-forward several years and the returns on that
assessment of Maryland is mixed: the competition was as advertised, but the
experience for Hart and Scott has been anything but stable.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The relationship between the University and its two
recruits from the City of Brotherly Love started out well, as most
relationships do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During their 2019-2020
freshman season, Hart and Scott were contributors on a nationally ranked Terps
team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Led by senior PG Anthony Cowan and
F Jalen Smith, Maryland won 24 games, were co-regular season Big 10 champions
and appeared poised for an NCAA Tournament run.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then…you know…COVID.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The tournament was canceled and Terps’ season ended as quickly as a snap
of Thanos’s fingers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cowan’s career at
Maryland was over; Smith, who was just a sophomore, left for the NBA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like so many student athletes at all levels,
the 2019-2020 Terps deserved a better fate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But in 2020, life wasn’t delivering many fairy tale endings.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hart and Scott’s sophomore season was a struggle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An undersized Terps team battled to a 17-14
overall record and managed a win in the NCAA Tournament.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Considering the departed talent from the
season before and the COVID-dictated scheduling challenges and empty arenas,
the Turtles made the best of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The next year was an abject disaster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a 5-3 start, and with patience running
thin on his modest March and Tournament success, head coach Mark Turgeon and
the University mutually agreed to part ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Frankly, Turgeon quit on his team – kids he had no doubt asked for unwavering
commitment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The team understandably
tanked under interim coach Danny Manning and recorded Maryland men’s basketball’s
first losing season since 1989. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The expectation, given the transfer portal and the
flexibility it offers athletes, was that every Maryland player with remaining
eligibility would run for the exits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
coach that recruited them left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The team
cratered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A new coach with new philosophies
was inbound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Check please.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But Scott and Hart stayed for their senior
seasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This not what players do
now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nor should they in cases like this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hart and Scott certainly could have
left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They probably even deserved to
leave - college eligibility is finite and precious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, they honored their commitment to
Maryland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the court this season, the
results have been fantastic: a twenty-plus win season, an NCAA berth, a packed
Xfinity Center and all expectations exceeded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The credit is not Hart’s and Scott’s alone, but they served as a bridge
from the past, a mooring for the fragile present a foundation on which to build
a future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It being easier to replace than to nurture or repair,
the search for greener personal grass – a better job, car, house or even spouse
- is something of a societal compulsion now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Scott and Hart, displaying character beyond their years, chose to aerate
and fertilize their Maryland lawn and to return to a sub-.500 team and a new
coach, instead of leaping to a seemingly better situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With Maryland’s long and distinguished list
of elite players, Hart’s and Scott’s basketball measurables won’t pop, but these
days, young men dedicating four years to a university and leading through tumultuous
times rivals any statistical compilation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-86417127985062070392023-12-29T19:14:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:14:47.288-08:00Measuring Time<p> As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Clocks, watches, phones and computers tell time;
humans measure time differently – and often it is personal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The artist remembers concerts, plays, trips to museums
or when a painting or poem perfectly captured their intent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The musician is innately in tune to the time
signature of a song and abstract cadence of life – sometimes perfectly in
rhythm, more often than not struggling to find a smooth groove.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Day to day, the mason keeps an internal clock
on setting concrete; longer term, the patina on a mason’s well-worn work boots
tells an in-depth story – the boots’ memorable first day on the job through
numerous projects completed in the unforgiving world of brick, block and mortar
and while under assault from the full gamut of Mother Nature’s wrath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The chef carefully watches the clock while
bread bakes or a steak sizzles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
parent watches time between feedings or diaper changes, and is humbled by the
years that wiz by in a dizzying blur as a child progresses from infant, to
toddler, to adolescent to adult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
vain remember the first wrinkle’s or gray hair’s arrival, or that moment when
it’s undeniable that hair was traveling from their head to…other places on
their body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll stop there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The sports fan measures time through momentous or
recurring athletic events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fall is less
September or October and more the arrival of the NFL season and playoff
baseball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spring training and the NCAA
Tournament mark the spring; March 20 is just a formality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Summer is playoff basketball and hockey, pints
of beer in ballpark bleachers and kids playing in cul-de-sacs and backyards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Specific events mark history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>January 1983, 1988 and 1992: Washington’s
Super Bowl championships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>June 2018: The
Caps hoist the Stanley Cup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>October
2019: The Nats’ World Series.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>October
1983: Orioles World Series.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>June 1986: Len
Bias’s death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>September 1995: Cal Ripken
Jr breaks Lou Gehrig’s consecutive games played record.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This stuff is chiseled into my brain as
deeply as the most significant events in human history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every sports fan has theirs too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We offer no apologies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My memory banks are etched with another melancholy
event – the April 1997 death of Jack Kent Cooke, then owner of the Washington
football team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember where I was
and how I felt – like an era had ended, like a part of my childhood was gone
and that the future was now uncertain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Two-plus decades later, uncertainty has been replaced
by a complete disaster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>RFK Stadium,
that once hallowed ground where passionate DMV fans from all personal and
political persuasions assembled to celebrate a share love, is now a silent,
decomposing carcass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>RFK’s steady decay
is the perfect metaphor for the disintegration of the gleaming, respected franchise
Daniel Synder bought from the Cooke family in 1999 and the embarrassment he hopes
to sell today.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Or does he?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Snyder, embattled curmudgeon that he is, announced his
intent to sell last November - a welcomed ray of light that teased the end of
an unimaginably dark period in franchise history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite Snyder’s reign of terror, NFL teams
are hot, multi-billion-dollar commodities/toys, so bidders figured to line up
for Snyder’s football jalopy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
assumed favorite was Amazon founder Jeff Bezos – stupid rich, Amazon building
its second headquarters in Arlington, owner of The Washington Post.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Wait…owner of what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Uh-oh…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Post has led several investigations of the
Commanders and is credited with revealing much of the disgusting activities
oozing out of Snyder, Inc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So needless
to say, Bezos and Snyder…probably not sharing bro hugs and trading pictures of
billionaire toys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, Snyder is
rumored have blocked Bezos’s bid outright.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Which is so on-brand for Snyder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>By doing so he only potentially harms himself (excluding the highest bid,
more public vitriol), elevates the legend of Bezos, further stains the
franchise he claims to love, and lowers the value of the other 31 NFL teams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah, but why should any shred of
self-awareness be expected from Snyder now?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He is all spite until the bitter end.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But if not Bezos, just let it be someone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For timekeeping D.C. sports fans, “Spring
2023” needs to be synonymous with Snyder’s merciful exit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-59470433731604071102023-12-29T19:12:00.000-08:002023-12-29T19:12:30.323-08:00Perspective<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p>By Ronald N. Guy Jr.</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Seven-time Super Bowl champion Tom Brady retired again
and for good (we’ll see).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Into the
sunset, he rides with two more rings than any other NFL player, three more than
fellow quarterback Joe Montana and four more than the incomparable Jerry
Rice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Four-time NBA champion, four-time
MVP and 19-time All Star LeBron James hit a step-back jumper last week to pass six-time
NBA champion, six-time MVP and 19-time All-Star Kareem Abdul-Jabbar as the
league’s all-time leading scorer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Stanley Cup champion, three-time Hart Trophy winner (MVP), nine-time
Maurice “Rocket” Richard trophy winner (top goal scorer) and 12-time All Star
Alexander Ovechkin, with 812 goals as of this writing, sits just 82 goals short
of four-time Cup champion, 9-time Hart Trophy winner and 15-time All Star Wayne
Gretzky’s all-time mark of 894.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Great Eight has The Great One in his sights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">All of this has GOAT debates raging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which is good press for the underappreciated
goat and hikers who have braved the perilous Billy Goat Trail along the Potomac
River.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it’s even better for sports
fans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What has fueled arguments, generated
interest and connected generations of fans more than good-natured Greatest Of
All Times quarrels?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think of the pints
downed while comparing the merits of transcendent athletes, parents and
children trading barbs about their personal GOATs, Twitter wars and endless articles
written on the topic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jordan or LeBron?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Or Kareem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or Wilt Chamberlain?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Babe Ruth or Willie Mays?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hank Aaron or Mickey Mantle?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joe DiMaggio or Ted Williams?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Diana Taurasi or Tamika Catchings or Cheryl
Miller?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hulk Hogan or Ric Flair?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ty Cobb or Honus Wagner?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wilma Rudolph or Florence Griffith Joyner or
Jackie Joyner-Kersee?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mark Spitz or
Michael Phelps?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Muhammad Ali or Joe
Louis or Jack Johnson or Mike Tyson?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Tiger Woods or Jack Nicklaus?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Here's the beauty of those questions: There’s no
definitively right or wrong answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
count two indisputable GOATs: Gretzky and Serena Williams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Tony Kornheiser might say, “That’s it,
that’s the list.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Otherwise, it’s all an
endless flow of statistics, stories, arguments and rebuttals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Revisit the long, comparable scroll of
personal accolades of GOAT contenders in the opening stanza: it serves only
illustrate dizzying individual greatness and the impossible task of reaching a
beyond-a-reasonable-doubt GOAT verdict.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sports evolve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Rules change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do you value
longevity versus peak performance?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or
championships won?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or being blessed by
surrounding greatness (all team-sport GOAT candidates are)?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What about the prevailing social
environment?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How much should the
accomplishments of pre-integration white athletes be discounted?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How is the racism Abdul-Jabbar endured measured
against the relentless spotlight LeBron has navigated since he was 18?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How to avoid recency bias?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And how much does the quality of the person
matter?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For example, Hank Aaron was, by
all accounts, a classy human.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ty
Cobb?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The undeniable subjectivity is the unspoken truth between
GOAT-debaters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ardently believe Michael
Jordan is the greatest basketball player of all time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I know there are reasonable arguments to
be made for James, Abdul-Jabbar (I missed his prime) and Chamberlain (I never saw
him play).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Entering these debates with an
open mind, and an acceptance that no absolute exists, allows for something rare
to happen: a respectful exchange between two people sharing a common love, who,
upon observing the same participants, reviewing the same facts and considering
the same parameters, arrive at different conclusions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>GOAT debates are, at their most fundamental
level, a matter of perspective.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now suppose America was the sport – the transcended, shared
love (still safe to assume?).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if
major political issues were the players being debated as the GOATs?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if the parties debating the political
topic, whether elected officials or average citizens, approached the discussion
with an open mind, a respect for the process and a firm acknowledgement that
they are neither completely right nor is their opponent completely wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if the parties respected their
differences in age, experiences, places of origin, race, gender and economic standing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if they listened to each other, learned
from each other and exited the conversation with greater knowledge, a broader
perspective and deeper love for the game (country) they cherish?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What if?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-74832683824670254972023-02-03T19:44:00.002-08:002023-02-03T19:44:45.117-08:00Interconnected and Interdependent<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By Ronald N. Guy Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jan 2, 2023: Paycor Stadium in Cincinnati was
electric. The Buffalo Bills had traveled
from western New York to the chilly shores of the Ohio River for a pivotal late-season
showdown with the Cincinnati Bengals.
Both teams were jockeying for playoff seeding and figured, along with
the Kansas City Chiefs, to be the prohibitive favorites to represent the AFC in
the Super Bowl. The matchup was
happening in prime time, on the venerable Monday Night Football, and before
schools, work and life’s hectic tempo had fully resumed from the holiday
breather - it was the perfect night for football.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The game started as expected; the fervor somehow
pumped out of the heart of the stadium, through television feeds and into the
beings of every lucky football soul watching it. With Cincinnati leading 7-3 with just over
six minutes remaining in the first quarter, Bengals QB Joe Burrow connected
with WR Tee Higgins over the middle. As
Higgins crossed midfield, he collided with and was tackled by Buffalo S Damar
Hamlin. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was an innocuous play. Television coverage panned to the crowd, then
to Higgins as he walked back to the huddle.
Play-by-play announcer Joe Buck casually noted that another Bills player
was down. NFL fans are trained to listen
for clues. A quick replay or joint being
tended to by trainers can indicate the nature of an injury. Mention of a cart is bad news; lack of
evident movement and immobilization measures are far worse. Hamlin’s situation quickly moved beyond the
imaginable football injuries. Within
minutes an ambulance was the on field and CPR was being performed. Hamlin was in cardiac arrest. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In the weeks since, Hamlin has made a remarkable
recovery, the latest feel-good evidence being his first public statement
released last week via Instagram. And
with his progress has come an opportunity to contemplate what happened that
night, how Hamlin’s life was saved and what else it says about the course of
human existence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The most obvious standing ovation goes to the medical
personal at Paycor Stadium and the Cincinnati and Buffalo hospitals who tended
to Hamlin. Imagine running to a downed
player’s aid expecting to encounter a dislocated shoulder, a balky knee or a
high ankle sprain – routine football stuff - and finding a player in cardiac
arrest. To have the skill and poise to
perform so exquisitely in those precious moments after Hamlin collapsed, and
then to nurse him back to health in the weeks that followed…simply
amazing. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Few, if any, have been in Hamlin’s situation on that
fateful Monday night. But roam this
planet long enough and every one of us will face a health crisis – either
personally or with a loved one. The odds
of developing cancer alone in one’s lifetime is roughly 40%. In those sobering moments, you are completely
dependent on the talents of others. Where
those medical experts hail from, the color of their skin, their gender identity
– all the divisive, and sometimes hateful nonsense that infects humanity - is reduced
to rubble.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Widen the aperture.
Look around. The appliances in
your house. The “phone” in your
hand. The food on your table. The goods that efficiently move around the
globe. The mail that gets picked up and
delivered daily. The knowledge being
conveyed in classrooms. The stuff –
cars, HVAC units, leaky pipes – that gets repaired by tradesmen. The grocery shelves that are always
stocked. The coffee and gas that is
consistently available at convenience stores.
How did these things get created?
How did they get delivered? How
is it all maintained?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The world: what an extraordinary machine.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">There has been much rhetoric in recent years about the
need for nationalism, for America to look inward, to end support for Ukraine,
to build walls and to retreat into tribes, etc. and so forth.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Worse, pre-existing prejudices have been
preyed upon and weaponized to breed division and weaken our shared cause.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The reality is we need each other.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">All of us.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Doing our things.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">We are
interconnected and interdependent - for the mundane, the underappreciated, the
assumed and for desperate situations when a life hangs in the balance. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span> </p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5093421934667961779.post-66809599715609632702023-02-03T19:42:00.003-08:002023-02-03T19:42:44.778-08:0020/20 In 2023?<p>As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)</p><p>By Ronald N. Guy Jr.</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Father Andrew White School, circa early-to-mid
1980s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was an average student; no
academic records were threatened during my navigation of grade school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there was no reason for my parents to
worry that they’d be supporting my lost soul well into adulthood (they might
disagree and may have supporting evidence).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Reading was…an effort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Books were overwhelming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Short
adventure stories were fine, but if not for required book reports, not a word of
those would have been read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What played
to my strengths?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sports
Illustrated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Washington Post’s
sports page.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Sporting News.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sport magazine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Notice a trend?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Our class visited the school library weekly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Books were stacked floor-to-ceiling wrapping
around the room’s perimeter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Encyclopedias,
classics, biographies, adventures, history – everything imaginable was
available to our absorbent minds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To my
young eyes, it was a room of knowledge waiting to be consumed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem was almost none of it interested
me - not in an organic, I’m reading this by choice and not obligation kind of
way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There was one alluring spot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It occupied only a few shelves of a single
section in this literary labyrinth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here
resided non-fiction sports books – the greatest quarterbacks and running backs,
toughest boxers, tennis champions, NFL and MLB history, biographies and
historical statistics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had it all. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Angels would sing and the books would glow as
I and a few similarly wired buddies approached it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I devoured every selection during my FAW tour,
some more than once.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The recent death of soccer icon Pelé brought back
memories of these childhood library visits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was there that I discovered the Brazilian soccer great after checking
out a book featuring the game’s best players.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With three World Cup titles to his credit and a short but impactful
stint with the New York Cosmos late in his career, my young mind quickly
concluded that Pelé was the greatest to roam the pitch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Barbara Walters’s passing last week cued more memories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The news didn’t interest me much as a young
lad, but I knew that if Walters was interviewing a person, it mattered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walters was an absolute giant of journalism for
decades and the long-running evening show 20/20 that she co-hosted with Hugh
Downs was must-see television in the 1980s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Pelé, Walters, and Franco Harris and Dave Butz
recently – I have reached the bend in life where final farewells to childhood icons,
many of whom first appeared in those dusty library books, are too common.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The world acquires information quite differently
now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Books are available on-demand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Library trips are optional.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Printed sports pages and magazines are
virtually obsolete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And getting news via
a weekly primetime show seems hopelessly antiquated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But are we better informed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is our understanding of the past more
developed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is our vision into the future
any closer to 20/20? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Three years ago, the answer could have been a
defendable “maybe”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember New Year’s
2020?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were just whispers about
unique virus detected in China.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most
earthlings had never experienced a pandemic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Health systems hadn’t been stressed to the breaking point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>America had never been shuddered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was all beyond imagination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Reality has a way of exposing our blind spots or, as George Will noted,
“The future has a way of arriving unannounced.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, what awaits in 2023?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sports will be dynamic, as always.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Locally, the Nats and (if there is a merciful
God) the Commanders will have new owners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lamar Jackson and the Ravens face a contract standoff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will the Orioles continue to improve?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do the aging and fragile Caps have another
Stanley Cup run in them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tom Brady is
set for another free agency tour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
transfer portal will wreak havoc on college sports.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only certainties: there will be magic,
incredible feats, and inexplicable endings that produce profound disappointment
and unrestrained joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The details are
far from clear, a truth that holds for all aspects of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that’s okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If COVID left us with anything, it is the
wisdom to know that the future is something to be encountered and experienced
more than predicted with anything approaching 20/20 foresight.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">All the best to you and yours in 2023.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Ronald N. Guy Jrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09192770559416794919noreply@blogger.com0