Month: July 2015

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reasons to love america’s team

photo-1413787489051-bcbb6209ece1Ok, ok… I must admit… these past few weeks I have been a total bandwagon jumper — my entire family, in fact.

[No, not for Bernie or the Donald… with all due respect, doubtful either of those will be happening anytime soon.]

We just couldn’t get enough of the 2015 American women’s World Cup team!!

Setting our days and schedules around each match, we found ourselves again huddled Sunday night, when the women won the cup, dominating reigning champion Japan, 5-2.

There were so many reasons to love this year’s team — starting, of course, with the women’s oh-so-cool, glow-in-the-dark, neon yellow socks…

There was first the obvious manifestation of perseverance and hard work — a lesson all students and athletes and young entrepreneurs can learn from. Note that World Cup qualifying began in April of 2013. Then — out of 134 teams — only 24 made the field. That means the athletes had to work hard, fight through adversity, and keep their eyes fixed on the prize… for over two years. I am struck by how that completely contrasts with current culture, which way too often embraces entitlement and instant gratification — equivalent to the total absence of perseverance and hard work.

The women also modeled how success is found in teamwork. Said arguably best by the Hope Solo, awarded the cup’s best goalkeeper, who has notably faced significant off field controversy: “As for my Golden Glove award, I’d like to dedicate it to my teammates and all the coaches that have stood by me all this time, in good times and bad, when I needed their support. It may be an individual award, but there are a lot of people who enabled me to be here holding this trophy today, which is the greatest moment of my career, and I thank them. I dedicate it to my coaches and my teammates, especially my defenders.”

[America’s team won this cup. How often in American do we forget we are a team?]

I also jumped on this enthusiastic bandwagon because I was attracted to what seemed to be just the right amount of pride laced within the accompanying patriotism… Too many proclaim themselves as “patriotic” but still shout insults at others. Too many scream at others and their flags. Too many from the left and the right adopt a sense of patriotism that excludes any opposing viewpoints on our team. Too many are too arrogant. My sense is that those “too many” don’t know what patriotism really is.

[How awesome, no doubt, it was to witness the women wave and wear the flag, running around the field, as the victory was sealed.

]

A few more random notes…

I loved the pomp and circumstance. I loved the national anthems. I loved the kids in the crowd and the creative, painted faces. I loved the respect and civility between the countries — between the players. I will not quickly forget soccer great, Homare Sawa — the 36 year old beloved icon in Japan, who found a way to smile and sincerely congratulate the American women even in her disappointing defeat.

And one more thing…

America loves a good hero. I think that’s why we too quickly fall prey to worshipping a candidate or celebrity; we’re always looking for that deserving hero — the one that’s “gotta be strong… gotta be fast… gotta be fresh from the fight.” And Sunday we found one.

 Amid this totally team game, captain Carli Lloyd emerged as the hungry, humble star. Lloyd scored 3 goals within 16 minutes. She scored one goal from approximately 60 yards away. She was the best player in the biggest moment on the biggest stage. And when her teammate, soccer legend Abby Wambach entered the game as a substitute in the 78th minute — playing in her last World Cup — Lloyd took off her captain’s armband, wrapping it instead around Wambach. The crowd swooned.

[Again, we all love a good hero.]

It was a fun month and a special, American team — one the bandwagon jumpers will always remember… such great reasons to love them…

[… did I mention the neon socks?]

Respectfully…
AR

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the end

10580961_888226557873468_262660009435600209_oAs expected, I spent our nation’s annual Independence Day pretty much consistent with the past dozen years — as any baseball parent will tell you — dust flying, sweat dripping, lots and lots of testosterone, at the diamond with a complete slew of games. With tournaments for the older two boys and my youngest proudly fulfilling his role as a “batboy” (not too far a stretch from his revered perception of a “batman”), our day was full.

Amidst the fullness, however, one significant moment stood out…

There was my interaction with the opposing coach… who when I conferred with him at the end of an inning to ensure our individual scorekeeping was in sync, he was silent about an inaccuracy in the scoring — because, as he soon acknowledged, he was “hoping you didn’t catch it.” I wondered how often are we silent… because a miscommunication benefits self. But alas, this wasn’t the moment that stood out.

There was the umpire who made an obvious wrong call, calling a ball “foul” after it touched the catcher in fair territory. He didn’t see it, but upon confrontation, he simply entertained no dissent. I saw the ball. My angle was actually clearer than his. It mattered not; as said, he entertained no dissent. How often do we simply refuse to entertain dissent or opposing viewpoints? … especially if it means being humble enough to acknowledge a mistake? Again, alas, such was not the moment that stood out.

There was also the interaction with the fans in the stands of the opposing team. Over these past dozen years, at times it’s been my privilege to coach third base. Yesterday that meant a proximity far closer to persons I knew not nor with whom I shared the same passions or loyalties. It mattered not; we were able to talk about things more important than baseball (…yes, there are things more important than baseball, sports, games, you-name-it…). Still, though, this was not the moment that stood out most to me.

For the second in our slew of games, my oldest son was on the mound. Ever since those initial, teeny tee ball days, Jake has found solace and success on the pitcher’s mound. This game, however — if lost — would be his last. (Note: church softball leagues come next.) As the tight game continued on — and as victory was in jeopardy — this moment began to stand out.

Let me first note that this is a recreational league. After years of select baseball and select, select baseball, my boy and his buddies simply decided it would be a blast to play rec after the completion of their high school season. The goal was to play hard and have fun. That, they accomplished.

But as the game continued and I was keenly aware we were nearing the end, my mind rapidly sorted through the past 18 years. I sorted through Jake’s successes… his failures… and his failures that have led to obvious growth and successes…

I thought through all the moments we cheered… and still, too, the moments we walked away… in silence, tears, even disgust.

I must say I wondered how I would feel in this moment. Would I grimace? Would I cry? How would I feel at the actual end?

 Friends, I understand the tears. I get the many who find the moment — the end to a past mainstay activity as sad or bittersweet. But that wasn’t how I felt yesterday. Maybe it’s been all that’s happened in the past few months. Maybe its been the depth of our sorrow and the height of our joy. I wasn’t sad.

 I see the end of Jake’s past, promising baseball career as the necessary entrance into what’s next. At 18, there is obviously so much ahead of him — for each of our youth — so many good things! Jake’s solace and success on the mound has thus helped prepare him for what’s next. My whole heart celebrates whatever that is.

Hence, as the final innings evolved and Jake was still on the mound — now going longer than expected, Jake told me he unfortunately needed to leave the game early; he had to get to work. Duty calls, as the summer before freshman year, these kids have to raise money for college. Work comes before recreational sports.

And so there Jake went, pitching through a final inning, striking out the last batter he would ever face for out number three. He walked off the mound a final time. High fives. He then left the field… and went to work.

Fitting…

Well done, son. Happy Independence Day…

Respectfully…
AR

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yearning for connection

photo-1428865798880-73444f4cbefcConsistent with my daily routine of scanning diverse news sources, yesterday I read an editorial in The Washington Post debating the possibility of VP Joe Biden running for President of the United States. Yes, I find it fascinating…14,000 people running for the Rep’s… one waiting to be coronated by the Dem’s… and neither scenario currently, totally appealing.

But as the editorial weighed the prospects of a Biden candidacy, I stumbled upon this huge a-ha:

“In a lot of ways, Biden would be the true anti-Hillary. He is completely uninhibited, he is impossible to script — which makes him seem authentic — and he has a human appeal that everyone can relate to. Clinton, on the other hand, is running a surreal campaign that avoids crowds, media and spontaneity of any kind. She is protecting her lead in the most standard, unimaginative way possible. Compared with Clinton’s robotic, stiff approach, could having a reputation for occasionally saying the wrong thing and hugging too much work to Biden’s advantage in an era where voters want the real thing?

The Democrats appear to be yearning for an emotional connection with their candidate, which could explain the flurry of excitement surrounding the Bernie Sanders campaign. Sen. Sanders seems to have an outsize appeal, which could be a product of how his outside-the-box approach contrasts with the stale Clinton march. But whatever Bernie can do, can’t Biden do it better? Maybe Sanders’s candidacy has exposed the opening that exists for Biden in the Democratic primary. Maybe this is Biden’s moment.”

Friends, this post is not intended to address any aspect of partisan politics — nor to again aver the Intramuralist’s stated desire for ideas fresher than those hailing from a Clinton or Bush. What fascinated me in the above editorial was this line:

“The Democrats appear to be yearning for an emotional connection with their candidate.”

Let’s remove the partisan reference…

We want an emotional connection with our candidate.

We want an emotional connection with our President.

We want an emotional connection with our celebrities, sports figures, politicians, you-name-it.

My sense is we crave connection.

Years ago I remember laughing when ABC found unique success positioning their “Bachelor/Bachelorette” series as “reality TV” [insert big grin here]. I laughed further still at the vocabulary they added to our colloquial conversation.

..

  • “I still feel great about Courtney because when I’m with her, I feel really connected to her.”
  • “Thanks to everyone for hanging in there with me this season. We totally had a connection.”
  • “I truly thought we had a connection, but I never seem to be anyone’s number one.”

Connection… connection… connection. We crave emotional connection.

It’s why many appreciated Pres. Obama singing “Amazing Grace” last weekend in Charleston; many connected with him emotionally. It’s also why many have not appreciated his leadership on healthcare; he has not cared about emotionally connecting with the majority of people.
It’s why the people of Cleveland root for LeBron James — because of the emotional bond they share, as he admirably returned to the city they love. It’s the same we feel with women’s soccer and this year’s national team — connecting with them — and their patriotism, as they represent us all.
A Joe Biden candidacy? The Intramuralist isn’t here to weigh the merits of any one candidate’s qualifications; we make no endorsements. But I will say this… as a man who often puts his foot in his mouth, a man who seemingly knows how to laugh at himself, a man who has made some major mistakes, and a man who knows deep, deep, recent sorrow — on a totally, nonpartisan level, I feel like we connect.

To me, that’s important… in reality… and not reality TV.

Respectfully…
AR