Delmar Clark . . . A Racing Legend!

I love automobile racing . . . always have.

 

    The smell of heated rubber, the screeching of the tires, the occasional banging of fenders, the slingshot moves of experienced drivers, the waving of the flag, the cheers and jeers of the fans . . . it's all a sliver of paradise to this boy.

 

     For me, it began before I had even attended school. My dad started my passion by taking me every Sunday evening to Midvale Speedway to watch the races. We had our set seats, our predetermined arrival time, and our matching enthusiasm. Getting out of that car and walking toward the track, I still remember getting excited just hearing the roars of the cars as they made their hot laps in anticipation of the time trials. As we sat and watched, I was thrilled to see the two different kinds of cars: the super modifieds and the late model stock cars, all being steered by drivers whose names and faces I can still see in my mind. As the modifieds circled the track, they produced a different sound than the late models, a buzzing sound that clearly said "speed." Joe Martincic, Baldy Baker, Dean Mast, Norm Saul . . . the list goes on--all heroes in my book. However, as happy as I was to watch them and try to pick the winners with my dad, nothing made me happier than when the legendary blue Harry Humphries' Ford  with the red and white number 69 came onto the track--Delmar Clark was in the house, ready to kick ass and take a few names.

 

     My admiration for Delmar was easy to trace--he was from my hometown of Gnadenhutten, and his wife played in my mom's card club. Occasionally, he would have his stock car parked outside his apartment, which enabled a crazed fan like me to get to see it up close as it sat on the hauling trailer. For me, the thrill of getting to actually see Delmar and say "hi" was a major moment. In fact, on one occasion, my dad arranged for both of us to visit Delmar and his wife's apartment so I could see his trophies. I was awestruck as we entered that second floor Main Street apartment, and I saw his trophy case . . . blew me away. When a kid meets his idol for the first time, it is a moment never forgotten. Fifty-plus years later, I still remember it so vividly.

 

     Obviously, Delmar was my man; when that car emerged from the pits on the opposite side of the stands, I always told my dad, "Here he comes!" and my dad would say, "I don't think ol' Delmar has got it today," thus sparking our competition. More days than not, ol' Delmar would pick up that checkered flag and take it around the track, and we would smile, clap, and yell . . . great days, my friends. The classic battles with Bud Middaugh, Doc Kinsey, Virgil Tinlin, Tony Diano, Bill Bitticker . . . remain strong reminders of what it felt like to be a kid with innocent and simple joys. I lived for Sunday nights, and as I rode my bike repeatedly in the yard around the house and often made our driveway and garage a race track, I had one vision: race like Delmar.

 

     As life moved along, my dad didn't enjoy the racing as much as I did, so he stopped attending. In need of a ride, I would often go to the track with Delmar's mom and dad, who had as much passion as I did for the sport. At times, of course, I even got to go with Delmar and his wife because they had moved up the road not too far from our house. His living closer added a different bonus; every now and then, he would bring his car to Gnaden instead of leaving it wherever it normally was parked during the week and he would work on it and then go streaking down County Road 39 right in front of my house, making that baby scream . . . I loved it.

 

     Delmar's career was pretty special for a small-town boy because he made it all happen within viewing distance of a whole bunch of local fans. His racing success at Midvale, Barberton, Columbus, and Sandusky ultimately led to his driving the number 21 in a Daytona ARCA Series race; unfortunately, he rolled his car several times at that superspeedway, and, in truth, his racing success soon came to a halt. In time, he even became a friend, a guy I would stop in and see every now and then at his body shop. Ultimately, though, Delmar passed away, and when he did, I got out all my pictures and every newspaper article I had of his big wins, and I looked back over them--he truly was a special man to me.

 

     Every now and then, I will see Mark Malcuit, another legendary area driver who came after Delmar, and I tell him, "There's the second best driver to ever come out of Tuscarawas County--Delmar was the man." He doesn't even know who I am, but he always laughs, and says, "Yeah, he was a good one"--guess I still am a bit crazed!

 

     Here's hoping a few of my readers can put a smile on their faces and remember those magic days of racing. As for this boy, I confess to looking at the speedway every time we head down Route 250, just hoping I can see cars practicing (sometimes even rolling down my window so I can hear the roar!). I still periodically attend Midvale Speedway and enjoy the shows, but, for me, the downright thrill will never be the same. That vested enthusiasm for a single driver fueled my passion . . . I hope that there are kids out there who are like me when I was a kid . . .watching those cars go in circles, keeping their eyes on their favorite drivers, and cheering like crazy for them . . . here's hoping they enjoy the ride as much as I did!

 

Goodbye . . . and Thanks

I lost a friend yesterday.

     Saying Ray was my best friend would be an overstatement. Saying he was a good friend would be much more appropriate. Regardless of the adjective used, the loss humbles me for many reasons. He was a buddy, and, as life unfolds, I realize that in my future I will be forced to face this same scenario more times than I wish to think.

 

     Unfortunately, the end of life is out there . . . we know that, even though we do everything in our power to avoid thinking of it. Two months ago, my buddy Ray Stein was living a carefree, happy life as a husband, dad, and grandpa, enjoying all the freedom that retirement could offer. Two months later, he is gone. Two months later, I feel an emptiness, almost a feeling of disbelief.

 

     Ray was a good man, a helper to many, a military veteran, a dedicated police officer, and a true comic relief. As my brief eulogy, I honor him as a man who not only wore many hats, but as a man who wore them well--he was well liked and well respected, and I thoroughly enjoyed him. I suppose I could continue with praise, but that is not my objective with this writing. What I once again was reminded of yesterday is that living is a treasure.

 

     At yesterday's funeral, I saw friends I have not seen in a long while, ones who took the time to pay respect to Ray. I must admit that mixed with my sadness was a euphoric feeling of being with old friends, ones I spent my college years with and ones who could spin tales that need not be repeated in this blog. However, that is my point: I was with my friends.

 

     At the risk of sounding melancholy, I stood in that funeral home and watched the faces of people I have known for many years. Easy to say that we are past our youth, well into our middle age, and leaning against the door of old age. Each of us, of course, was alone with our thoughts, but I have to believe we were all thinking the same at one point or another: when is it going to happen to me? No, I am not paranoid about the eventual, but funerals have a tendency to rattle us to our core because we know the next one could be us, a friend, or a family member. In my case, it shook me especially seeing the reaction of another longtime friend who truly was saddened, who realized that he had lost a true pal.

 

     I write this blog because I love to write; as I have stated, I have opinions and logic, but sometimes I bear my soul. For what reason, I am not positive, but, if I am feeling something, I have to think that others are as well. Obviously, I am not enjoying writing this today, but I feel almost moved to do so. In my life, I have been gifted to have many friends; I consider myself a fortunate man--with a loving family and loyal friends, how can a guy complain? When I am with my buddies, I feel so comfortable--the thought of not having them a phone call away scares me, to be blunt. Again, the key word is "comfortable"--I suppose we keep each other feeling fresh with our constant banter, but more than that is the bond that unites us. Difficult to pinpoint, but we all know it's there.

 

     From my seat, my writing today is about appreciating what I have; the proverbial "stop and smell the roses" is what I am talking about because that is exactly what I felt when I said good-bye to my friend. On a larger scale, life is not too short--it's what we put into it and get out of it that matters. Needless to say, I am thoroughly enjoying my life and those who are part of it . . . let's keep this game going. While we're doing that, let's take a moment every now and then to remember our good buddies like Ray, and let's not be too macho to look at our buddies and appreciate what we have right now . . . I don't want to wait and say, "I wish I had  . . . ."

Golf: A Humbling Experience

What is it about golfing that drops grown men to their knees and makes them curse the beloved gods that guide that little white/orange/blue/green ball?

     I would like to say that I am a golfer, but, in doing so, I would be making an exaggeration. I enjoy golfing, but to say that I am a "golfer" would be comparable to saying I dig Harleys without having ever ridden one--I haven't earned the right. Of all the sports I have ever tried, without a doubt, golf has been the most challenging. As most non-golfers attest, hitting a stationary ball with a club looks easy; for those who think that, I would recommend keeping those thoughts to themselves because their ignorance will shine with bright clarity. If only it were easy, I would not be sitting here writing about the game, lamenting its difficulty and its mental toughness requirement.

 

     Envy is a powerful divider, but it can also be a wonderful motivator. For years, I have watched friends who are excellent in the game's many aspects. Embarrassingly, I have watched them drive with distance and accuracy and demonstrate solid control of their wedges and putters while I meandered along hitting the occasional memorable shot but most frequently plodding along feeling sorry for myself. For many reasons (including lack of passion for improvement and suffering self confidence in my golfing ability), I had basically done nothing to improve my game. However, this year, I hit a breaking point: I had run out of excuses. As a result, I made up my mind to concentrate on improving, a relative term for certain, yet one that I was determined to achieve. What I have found is that I thoroughly enjoy the game--don't quite love it just yet--but I find it to be challenging, rewarding, and strangely addicting!

 

     A person who can occasionally be stubborn and stuck in his beliefs--that's me I am talking about--frequently ignores what is most obvious. What I have learned is that my unwillingness to sometimes listen to others' advice can ultimately lead to my own frustration. I was told by many several years ago to take lessons before the bad habits settled in, but, of course, I basically refused. I took a lesson here and there, but when the mind was not really listening, those lessons basically were a waste of money. With credit to the instructors, my inability to improve had nothing to do with them: It was all me and my reluctance to concede that I might just know a "thing or two about this game"; actually, the problem was self confidence and embarrassment . . . I didn't want anyone to know that I truly did not understand golf lingo and the details that accompany it. With that in mind, I have swallowed my pride and committed myself to improving my game. I am realistic, of course; my hope is to improve by four strokes, allowing me to shoot consistently in the bogey range.

 

     Having said all the above, I must confess that mastering the swings required is definitely challenging, but the most difficult part is the mental toughness required to compete--that is where the self confidence enters the picture. Hitting that first ball with others' eyes watching, putting with a par on the line, bouncing back from a bad hole and trying to forget it when teeing off on the next hole, and following a successful play by a partner and trying to emulate it are all examples of how mental toughness controls one's success or lack thereof. For me, that has been my biggest obstacle, but with more experience in those situations, I am seeing improvement. As a coach, I always expounded about being mentally tough, grinding it out, outworking our opponents. Additionally, as a coach, as an athlete, and as an adult runner, I thought I understood that. It was not until I actively pursued golf that I realized that this game required a whole new focus. Performing under pressure has been my biggest challenge.

 

     With a series of lessons under my belt, with playing many rounds by myself as well as with others, with practicing at the driving range, with actively listening to others' far better than I, and with asking questions and actually processing the responses instead of simply absorbing material, I am learning this game. I am feeling my confidence increasing, and I am finding my mental toughness is getting closer to where I am comfortable. Of course, I accept that I will not be as talented as many, but for that is not what I strive. I want to improve, and in doing so, I am finding my mind is facing a daily challenge. Yep, those coaches' lessons from way back are still influencing me: accept my reality; work to improve; recognize my strengths and identify my weaknesses; be open to advice and constructive criticism; and, most of all, develop the mental toughness through experience and competition.

 

Funny how those lessons from when I was a teenager continue to surface . . .

The End or The Beginning?

This entry is expressly intended for those senior students graduating from Dover High School this week, but the message can certainly be applied to any and all. Because these seniors comprised my last group of high school students when they were sophomores, I want to bid them farewell in my own way.
________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Graduating Students,

     A joyous day, perhaps the happiest in your young lives, is right now, this moment--the final day of high school. You have spent so many years preparing . . . and it is here . . . finally. As you look back, you have memories--both good and bad. The petty arguments, jealousies, and dislikes are all put on the back burner for a few days--at this moment, friendships abound, and you are treasuring each moment--good for you!

                       

                                                                . . . . .

 

     However, when the excitement of the moment wears off, you will find that you really are not that much different from where you were prior to graduation. The only certainty that faces you now is uncertainty because each of you is preparing to go into uncharted waters, situations you have never before experienced. How that ride is going to be will be largely determined by you . . .: thus, your life will be full of unanswered questions . . . just like the rest of us who have already been at the exact spot you are at this moment.

 

     Throughout the time you were in my classroom, you were busily involved in writing, reading, writing, writing, and more writing. If you recall the first day, I made this comment to you: "If your sole reason for entering this classroom is to merely get a grade, then you are going to be sorely disappointed." My objective then--as it continues to be now--was to lead you to an understanding of how to survive and how to succeed beyond the classroom walls. I pushed you perhaps when you did not want pushed; I perhaps angered you with my occasional commentary; I made you discuss situations you may not want to have considered; most importantly, however, I have attempted to make you think. You have heard these words come from my mouth: "The sign of an intelligent person is one who views all sides of an issue before voicing an opinion"--at this point, you know what I was trying to do: I want you to leave high school with the insight to examine. Please do not go through life with a narrow-minded approach believing there is only one way to succeed, to live. Please recognize that narrow-minded people frequently end up with great regrets.

 

     While I was teaching you, I repeatedly said that the key reason for learning grammar is to prevent ourselves from being embarrassed. At various points in our lives, we will be forced to write--no matter how difficult that is to believe at the moment. When those situations occur, you will be so dependent on your basic knowledge--what comprises that basic knowledge is now in your head simply because, following your high school graduation, it will be a rare opportunity to take any more grammar classes. Please remember the green banner that graced my classroom wall: Perception is Reality. Please recognize that the perceptions people make about you will not always be accurate . . . but that is what those individuals will remember. Do whatever you can so that when others perceive you, they are walking away with an impressive reaction.

 

     As I sit here at this computer, I could make so many comments, but my reason for writing this letter is not to be preachy. Throughout my year with you, we got to know each other quite well. Through your journal writings, your numerous essays, and our conversations, I am quite comfortable saying I have a solid understanding of where you are in your life. Thus, my reason for writing to you is to leave you with a few "Guntherisms" (what a stupid word!)--it is my way of saying Please do whatever you can to be a good person.

 

***Please recognize that you are going to fail occasionally in your life--it is a given that failure is going to occur. Bad decisions are going to be made (perhaps a few of you have already learned this lesson), and life's events are not always going to go the way you anticipate. How you deal with that failure, however, will determine where you are going to end up.***

 

***Building from the previous point, please understand that when failure occurs it is so important that you determine why it occurred--making excuses will make you feel better in the short term and may even serve as a partial cover when explaining to friends and family why it occurred, but the reality is you must eventually determine why--scrap the excuses and examine the reasons.***

Courage: It is a rare occasion when an individual has the courage to uphold his convictions; so frequently our lives revolve around trying to please others--the importance and value of doing that cannot be overestimated; however, when we allow ourselves to stray too far from the path, we become an accident, a setback, waiting to happen. Remaining courageous and standing your ground is a true test of your character. What you will find is that the meaning and significance of this word, courage, will gradually change as you continue to plow your way through life. Please understand that it is a simple word, yet it packs a powerful punch!

 

Confidence:  So much of what we do revolves around the confidence, the belief, we have in ourselves. Do not--even for a moment--think that your high school days have fully determined your position in life. Yes, habits--both good and bad--have been established, but what truly shapes an individual's future is his or her will and determination. If you believe and if you are willing to work at something--whether it be a job, a marriage, or an obstacle--you can persevere. There are more ways to get ahead in this life than just being smart, believe me.

 

Responsibility:  Whether we want to accept it or not, we must understand that all of us have a responsibility, an obligation to help those who come after us. Our kids--and I am not necessarily referring to our own biological children--will look to us as role models in ways we rarely envision. The language we use, the way we treat others, the enthusiasm we display for life--all these will be closely monitored by those following us. It is our duty to show them the way, whether we like it or not.

 

Respect:  Treating others with respect is perhaps the most important lesson you will ever learn--you will leave this world eventually with only your reputation--try to do whatever you can to make sure that reputation is laced with respect.

 

     Although the foregoing letters, CCRR, seem awfully innocent, I try to use them as a guide for my dealings with others. I will be the first to admit that I occasionally get off track, but I also will tell you that it helps to have a "code" to bring me back to reality--maybe it can be of benefit at a point in your lives.

 

     As I bring these parting words to a close, I will let you in on these thoughts:

     1.  I thoroughly enjoyed teaching you two years ago; you were respectful young people who

          were willing to do what I asked--I admire you for that.

     2.  I hope the mutual respect between us that I discussed with you on the first day of your

          sophomore year has been earned and maintained--to me, it is the key ingredient in
          teaching.

     3.  I hope you walked away from my class considering yourself a better writer than when you

          walked in--it is inevitable that at various times in your future you will still hear a semi-bald-

           headed man telling you the difference between plurals and possessives!

     4. I hate to reveal this, but I must tell you now to avoid future embarrassment: in all likelihood,
         I will forget many of your names. I will remember you, but I might need a little reminder
         about first names--believe me, with all the students I have taught, the thousands of names
         bouncing around in my head become a bit garbled from time to time. Apologizing in
         advance, I ask for your future understanding.
 

     It has been a great run, class, but it is time for you to move on. I wish you well in your life and hope I have been able to help you in one or two small ways. As the famed cartoon character, Elmer Fudd, so adequately put it, "That's all, folks!" Go get 'em!

With much respect,


Mr. Gunther
         
 . . . and never forget "Passion is the trigger of success!"

How Naive Are We?

     As "Deflategate" continues to consume the national media, I find myself actually chuckling over the bizarre reaction of the athletic purists among us. Sports commentators, political advisors, editorialists, common folk--the reaction has been brutal. "The integrity of the game is being threatened," If the rules are not enforced, then the game will crumble," "Tom Brady should be suspended for a year," "The Patriots should be severely punished," . . . all the aforementioned have been bombarding us for a few days. Again, I chuckle . . . most of the critics probably have forgotten a few of the "unspoken," yet hypocritical "rules" of sports. Please allow me to share just a sample:

     *Coaches, players, franchises--all try to get away with whatever they can . . . nothing new about that. "Gaining a competitive edge" is what we who have played athletics call it; others, of course, will refer to it as "cheating." Whatever the term, try these examples on for size and see if any of them ring a bell:
     **Beginning as far back as I can remember, basketball coaches have taught various methods of "gaining an edge" ranging from sending the wrong foul shooter to the free throw line "in case the official forgot" who was to go there; to nudging an opposing jumper during a jump ball with the inside arm as the jumper was going up in the air; to immediately jumping out of bounds when the ball went out of bounds to indicate that the other team knocked the ball out of play "in case the official wasn't sure." In the stands, of course, we applaud the heads up play of the athlete . . . as long as he is on our side!
     ***Offensive line coaches in football are notorious for teaching kids how to clandestinely hold without the officials noticing; sometimes the offenders get caught, but more often than not they avoid being penalized. In simple terms, as football fans know, holding is part of the game. Illegal, yes, but, again, it's part of the game, isn't it?
     ****As a Browns' fan, I clearly remember last year when Coach Mike Pettine ran a play where it appeared that Johnny Manziel ran off the field but instead stood on the sideline apparently discussing something with Coach Kyle Shanahan. Soon thereafter the ball was thrown to Manziel and a significant yardage gain was made; unfortunately, if I remember correctly, a penalty was called for either that trick or for something else that negated the call. We Browns' fans, thought it was a great play because it "almost" worked in our favor. Opponents, of course, thought it was a distinct violation of the rule's intent, but we in this part of Ohio thought it was ingenious!
     *****In baseball, the "code" is if a batter is hugging the plate, a high hard one right at his body may solve the problem. Ethical? Probably not, but as a player, we understand that it could happen. I could elaborate about the "spitter," the hidden ball ploy, and other rules violations, but they are simply part of the game, aren't they?
     ******UCLA is renown for its long-running tenure of NCAA Men's Basketball Championships; as a result, the program and Coach John Wooden are heralded as great teams and a great coach. Many times I have heard "that's how a program should be run" because of the high regard by which they are held. Sorry, I don't buy that argument. As history and research have proven, UCLA cheated like crazy; former players have attested that they were given cars, money, and gifts as rewards for their performances. Sam Gilbert, an extremely devoted fan and a quite wealthy man, I might add, was notorious for his subtle performance as a sugar-daddy. Of course, Coach Wooden escaped the scrutiny because his program was UCLA--a dynasty--and because the NCAA was (or acted) so unaware of what was going on during that time. I strongly doubt that UCLA fans cared whether the "integrity of the game" was being challenged--they were winning, so what if a little action came the way of the players?
     ******As a longtime follower of automobile racing, particularly NASCAR, I recognize that seeking the competitive edge is part of the racing game. NASCAR's history is dotted with improper equipment, unapproved fuel additives, unsanctioned weight distribution methods . . . the list goes on. In truth, part of me admires the ingenuity of the participants for their desire to "bend the rules." Most recently, Ryan Newman's team was fined and certain crew members suspended for putting pinholes in the rear tires to alter the tires' grip on the track . . . my take was "why didn't the other teams try that?"

     So, Tom Brady is accused of being "at least partially aware" of knowing that air was taken out of his footballs--that's a big deal? Are you kidding me? Again, part of me admires him for continuing the tradition of gaining an edge. (I must add that if I flip the words "at least partially aware" what I truly see is "we cannot prove it, but we think that is what happened"--the Wells' Report sounds to me like the word choice has found Brady guilty even though he truly has not! Sensationalism, perhaps?) If the integrity of the game is now ruined because of air in a football, I surrender . . . get me off the athletic train! (I should add in the event that a reader sees me as a loyal Patriots' supporter, he or she would be wrong--that is not the case.)

     Sports are games--anyone who has played, coached, or watched closely probably understands my perspective. For the naysayers who are convinced that all sports need to be pure, I have to agree with them . . . if only that were so. Viewing sports from a naïve perspective can only lead to negative perceptions; opening our eyes and occasionally appreciating the quirks can be quite enlightening. The reality is that sports are not wholly pure--the "wiggle room" is half the fun!

mag.gunther@gmail.com
guntherm@roadrunner.com

Young Athletes: Separation and Specialization

The Vortex is alive, consuming as many innocents as possible . . . where did it start, and when will it end?

     The beauty of experience is that it often allows an alternative perspective, often conflicting with what is currently accepted as common practice. From my seat, that is the dilemma with young athletes and many families today: naïve bystanders getting sucked in by a power that seems out of control--join in or get left behind.

     As most who read my blog know, my background in coaching is lengthy; certainly, that does not make me an expert, but it does allow me the opportunity to provide an informed viewpoint on sports and kids who play them. Seemingly forever, kids have been participating in sports, many organized, many not. However, sometime in the past 15-20 years or so, the idea that we need not just a few leagues, but many leagues, emerged. Along with this came the idea that we needed travel teams, that we needed to play in competition leagues, that kids needed the best competition possible, and that future full-college scholarships depended on kids' involvement. Pick a sport, my friends, and you will see to what I am referring: basketball, baseball, softball.


     I, as much as anyone, understand the thrill of competition as well as the lessons accompanying winning and losing. However, I am deeply troubled by the changing dynamics of youth sports. As indicated in my opening, a "vortex" seems to have surfaced creating the idea for parents that their kids must be involved in sports for them to be "somebody." No, I do not underestimate the values sports teaches us, so please spare the criticism for a moment. What seems to happen is that kids--in so many ways, both subtly and openly--are being force-fed to participate in youth sports. What concerns me, though, is that many times the emphasis is not on the involvement but, rather, on the development of talent so that a travel team can go somewhere and win resulting in kids getting a boatload of trophies. My observation is that oftentimes the kids who get chosen for the travel teams are most frequently the ones who have matured the earliest and whose families can afford the fees associated with the costs involved. In short, separation is created at a young age. Pity the poorer kids whose families know they cannot afford the luxury of carting their kids here and there most weekends. Pity the kids whose coordination and athletic talents have yet to surface as youths. Their opportunities and desire to succeed are often squashed before they have even made it out of elementary school.

     For those whose kids are talented and whose parents can afford the costs, travel teams are probably welcome to their lives. However, I would bet that many of those same involved parents were ones who at one time said, "We will never do that." Thus, the vortex  . . . many have been sucked in only because they have accepted that their children pretty much need sports to fit in . . . or is it the parents who need the fix?
                                                         . . . . . .

     In the spring of every year as coaches organize their summers, we as coaches wait to see who is going to stop playing basketball, football, tennis,  . . . . Invariably, a few walk away for a variety of reasons. Reasoning typically includes tension with the coach, loss of desire for the sport, lack of talent, or--something I have observed recently more than ever--specializing in a certain sport. I am not about to criticize others' decisions, but I do want to make a few observations, based on a 59-year-old man's reasoning. Even though it is a cliché, enjoying our youth is so vital to our development. I played baseball and basketball throughout high school and football for my freshman year; I wish my school would have had a cross country program because I would have loved to have run. I wish I had learned to play the piano, but I was too busy playing sports; I wish I had learned how to work on a car when my dad wanted to teach me; I wish I had learned carpentry when my neighbor wanted me to help him . . . my point is that as I look back, I enjoyed my opportunities, but I missed out on so much. Why was simple . . . I wanted to play basketball and baseball. Granted, my abilities were somewhat limited, but I would have loved to have been a three-sport athlete. Even today I look with admiration at my peers who were well-rounded athletes and those today who develop their skills to their utmost. When kids specialize, though, they lose in many ways. The lust for that all-encompassing full college scholarship overwhelms and blinds so many that they often fail to see the opportunity that is staring them in the face right now. Yes, it's true that when spring arrives, young athletes often are lured by warmth and sunshine and begin questioning their allegiance to various sports and activities, but when that football team takes the field or that basketball team emerges from the locker room, those kids who have not been willing to make that sacrifice will be missing out on their golden opportunities . . . here's hoping that those high school kids enjoy the sacrifice and the lessons learned--they will never regret it.
                                                                 . . . . .

     Finally, in an attempt to bring my thoughts together, my parting words are simple: By the time kids arrive on varsity squads, most coaches have no idea who was on a traveling team or how many trophies were won or how many dads were championship coaches . . . it's almost like knowing the score at halftime--few know and few remember. Many of those kids who were on those super teams have quit playing, have been injured due to overuse injuries, or simply have realized that their athletic accomplishments have been overstressed by parents. What is left are those kids who have a passion, who have talent, and whose coordination has blossomed . . . my only fear is that we have not turned kids off before we have the chance to turn them on!
    

Who are "They"?

"Every time you turn around, they want more money."
"If they try to push a new school down our throats, I will be against it."
"Do they ever think of the parents and the problems this might cause?"

All the aforementioned are excerpts from this past week's 30 Seconds statements found in the local Times-Reporter, comments that say much to me about the "they're picking on me" mentality that I see growing in our country and particularly in our home base. If readers and callers are going to continue placing the blame on "they," then I suppose we should have a common understanding of just who "they" really are!

Are "they" the people whom we have elected to make decisions for us (council representatives, school board members, trustees, commisioners)? The same people who get paid a pittance, who endure the wrath of constituents when they make a decision contrary to what an individual desires, who look to the future and try to make ends meet when the money is scarce, who have the courage to represent their neighborhoods when nobody else will step forward to do it? If that is the "they" being referred to by many, maybe we should applaud them rather than being critical of their commitment.

Are "they" the powers-that-be who set policy for our industries, the ones who frequently are trying to save us from us? The same people who regulate big business like oil and gas, television, public utilities, and environmental concerns? If that is the "they" being referred to by many, maybe we should occasionally applaud them rather than be misled into believing that those individuals are trying to turn our society into an outright disaster.

I could go on with my premises, but what each is leading to is the growing skepticism encompassing us. For whatever reason--unemployed/laid off people, drug addiction, complete apathy--I see and hear us spiraling toward such negativity that it scares me. Where it will stop is anyone's guess, but I am frustrated with the constant blame game. It reminds me of when I was a kid getting caught doing something: "I didn't do it!" It was so easy to blame a sometimes faceless person or situation when I clearly had ownership of the problem. My thinking was if I blamed someone it would shift my guilt . . . I should add that it seldom worked, and, after a while, any credibility I had drifted away. The same is true with the constant references to "they"--too much complaining and blaming about a faceless culprit make any argument somewhat worthless.

Over a year ago, I finished reading Jerry Tarkanian's book Runnin' Rebel. For those unfamiliar, Tarkanian (aka Tark the Shark) was a long-time college basketball coach out west, most notably at the University of Nevada-Las Vegas, who had a career of run-ins with the NCAA.  I cannot claim to know who was right or wrong, but when I was finished with the book, I realized Tark must have been an angel sent from heaven because he was constantly being picked on by the authorities--of course, everybody else was cheating uncontrollably, but they picked on him because they didn't like him. When I was done reading, my perception had changed--Tark had always portrayed the man's man way of life . . . Vegas, fast times, casinos, drinking, women, winning . . . by the time I had finished reading, I realized he had written the book to portray himself as a victim. Unfortunately, the effect was the opposite on me--he was repeatedly crying the blues about being picked on, but everybody else was getting away with infractions . . . sound familiar to my argument? While "they," the NCAA, may have been right or wrong, that point did not matter to me; what did matter was that "they" were just another example of blame.

I must share two personal stories that have occurred in the past few years-- a former classmate and teammate, and a lifetime friend who endured similar situations --that may illuminate my perspective. Van Henry, a talented, all-star athlete in any sport he ever attempted,faced the battle of prostate cancer. Once he endured the initial shock, he immediately put on his game face; rather than feeling sorry for himself, he attacked his treatments breaking them into the four quarters of an athletic contest. I am not writing this to provoke sympathy--if you know him, he would be upset if anyone did. Rather, his attitude is what made him go.  In his private moments, he probably endured the self pity that inevitably has to accompany such a diagnosis . . . but no one ever knew that. Likewise, Kim (Ronald) Smith, now a prominent attorney in Lancaster, PA, and a former Indian Valley North friend, faced an even more invasive battle with breast cancer, one that required her to endure emotions I cannot even envision. She, too, faced the fight head-on, never allowing the defeating demons to overcome her. Today, she embraces life just as she always has, but she truly understands the blessed gift she has been granted.

You do see where I am going with this, right?  The mental approach we take to life's challenges is what separates us--repeatedly, I told Van and Kim that their attitudes kept impressing me, and I was not blowing smoke. Van has always been a fighter in an athletic sense and Kim in an intellectual sense, but both were forced to take their lessons learned and apply them to a challenge they had never experienced. They have endured, and I have no doubt that Van will take his experience and use it to encourage others to face challenges head on--just like Kim is currently doing . . . that is what positive-thinking people do. An important side note:  I know sports are perceived in many different ways based upon our own experiences, but please don't ever tell me that enduring what sports offers does not toughen a person. Any athlete will say that quitting is always an option, but overcoming that feeling is what makes us tick and what pays dividends later in life. Van Henry and Kim (Ronald) Smith have once again proven that they are winners in these, the biggest fights of their lives . . . and through their experiences they have taught me yet again about perseverance.

Let me pull all this together: The "they" referred to at the outset of this entry could be anybody or anything, but it is so easy to blame "they" rather than confronting an issue and intelligently trying to arrive at a solution that works. Unfortunately, not all solutions are what we want to hear, but an appreciation for the process can certainly be achieved. Perhaps battling cancer is an extreme example, but my point has been made--how we approach life is determined largely by us. Bottom line for me:  When I hear others whining about someone or something, I frequently say, "OK, so what did you do about it?" It might not be the response desired, but at least I am trying to get past the negative . . . and sometimes they shut up!