Doing the Right Thing

There would have been a time when I would have avoided reading about it, let alone writing about it.  It seemed the moment my first child was born, I could no longer stomach seeing or hearing any news story that involved something bad happening to children.  I would click off the TV or not click on an internet link from the mere mention of some child atrocity.

So on Monday morning, I’m not sure what possessed me to read an online article about the incredibly sad, incredibly infuriating and incredibly devastating news out of Penn State University.  I had seen enough passing headlines to know the general “scandal” – a former coach of the PSU football team had been accused of molesting children.  That’s what the headlines told me.

As read on, I found myself becoming angry.  And at the same time my heart sank thinking about these poor children.  Reading the graphic detail of what this monster Jerry Sandusky did to innocent, trusting, kids tore me apart.  I can’t imagine the fear and confusion they lived with at that time.  I can’t imagine the pain and anguish they have lived with since.  I would imagine it’s pretty much impossible to live a “normal” life after that?

What took this heartbreaking story to another level was the fact that other adults became aware of this situation and essentially did nothing.  A graduate assistant actually witnessed it.  Legendary Penn State football coach Joe Paterno was made aware of it and all he did was pass it along to his boss.  None of them called the police.  None of them confronted Sandusky.

Sandusky’s (alleged) deplorable behavior wasn’t relegated to this one isolated incident.  There are reports that as many as 20 – possibly more – were sexually molested by him.  Many of them after the incident first witnessed by the grad assistant.

My first thoughts were that I was reading something wrong.  How could someone witness and be aware of such a vile thing involving a child and essentially do nothing?

I’ve read many people say that it would be impossible for them to see or know of such a thing without wanting to literally kill Sandusky.  I have children around the same age that Sandusky violated.  The thought of someone even doing something remotely close to what he did to my children, invokes homicidal feelings in me, as well.

Joe Paterno is the winningest coach in college football history.  In fact he won his record 409th game just a couple of weeks ago. He’s coached Penn State since the 1960′s and his reputation has been stellar as both a coach and leader of men.  His program has been lauded for doing things the right way and has escaped the pitfalls that have hit pretty much every major college sports powerhouse.

Yet, how could someone who seems like such a “good guy” basically turn his back on helping a child?  How could he go about working, living normally, regularly interacting with Sandusky without ever confronting him.  Without ever calling the police?  It’s been noted that Paterno fulfilled his minimal “legal” obligation by telling the police, but he failed colossally (with devastating consequences) by not fulfilling his moral obligation.

And that’s where I got even more frustrated.  Sandusky’s behavior is unquestionably deplorable.  Paterno and the other’s lack of action is a different form of awful behavior.  Because it’s one thing in the heat of the moment or the pressure of a situation, to make the wrong decision.  It’s another thing, to look the other way, to ignore it and to worry more about your football program’s reputation than to worry about ruining the life of a child.  To say silent for basically a decade.

So when Paterno initially said he didn’t know all the details (if you’ve read what he said he did know, you would want to scream “You knew enough!!!), it was an attempt to cover his butt – just like fulfilling his legal obligation of telling his boss.  I don’t know if it was ignorance, arrogance or cowardice that led Paterno and the others at the school to do nothing?

I was asked about this situation at work and my response was this – now that we know what we know.  Now that we are here.  Now that we can’t take back what was done to those children.  We can’t erase from their minds the horror they endured.  We can’t restore their innocence.  I just want those who did nothing to “man up” and just say, “I was wrong.”  Say, “I worried about my own reputation, about winning football games, about my school’s reputation, more than I did about protecting children.”  That, “What I did was inexcusable and wrong, but today I want to do the right thing.”

It’s sad that Penn State’s president and Paterno never owned their part in this horrifying situation.  They either studio in silence, minimized their role or stood behind legal mumbo-jumbo.  Paterno had the gall to try to go out on his terms saying he would retire at the end of the season.  Penn State’s Board of Trustees finally did the right thing and fired both men last night.

They noted that athletics are not bigger than the school.  And in turn they essentially said, winning football games, protecting the image of their school or the reputation of their legendary coach, wasn’t more important than people … than children. They did the right thing.

 

Talkin’ Trash

Your mother wears nice shoes.

I’m going to win … or maybe you will.

You are so pretty you could probably win some sort of contest for pretty people.

I can’t talk trash.  I pretty much knew that, but it was confirmed a couple of times in recent days.  Talking trash is a skill of being able to taunt or disparage someone else.  Usually done by men and pretty much a staple of any sporting competition, whether it’s between players or fans.

An old friend of mine, essentially “invited” me to engage in some friendly trash talk when our favorite football teams squared off on Monday Night Football tonight.  He’s a Lion’s fan.  I’m a Bears fan.  Here was my initial response:

“The Lions are scary good this year.  Plus, the Tigers.  It’s good to be a Detroit fan.”

His response:

“This is the single worst job of trash talking I’ve ever seen.”

He’s right.  It’s not so much that I can’t do it.  I often trash-talk in my mind (and I’m ruthless).  It’s just that I don’t feel comfortable with it.  I’m not good with conflict – even good-natured conflict.  I don’t want anyone to feel bad.

I tried to convince myself that my lack of trash talk is really a form of reverse psychology.  Kill ‘em with kindness, you know.  I’m going to be sooooo nice you can’t stand it!  That’s probably not working.

Although, the Lions just beat the Bears.  In my defense – the Lions do look “scary good”.  And the Bears … well, they just looked scary. Hmmmm – I guess I can trash talk a little.

 

Heroes, Role Models and Reality

I just finished reading an article on one of my all-time favorite athletes, Walter Payton, and my overall feeling is sadness.

As a kid growing up in Chicago in the late ’70′s and ’80′s, before Michael Jordan ruled the city – there was Walter Payton.  For many years, Payton played brilliantly on some pretty bad Chicago Bears teams.  He would eventually win a Super Bowl with the Bears towards the end of his career.  Not only was he was the best player on the team (by far), but he was arguably the best player of his era and one of the best of all-time.

He was smooth, but powerful.  A showman, but humble.  Payton played 13 seasons and only missed one game.  He seemingly could do anything on the football field – run the ball, catch the ball and even pass the ball.  And when his career was over, he held the record for the most rushing yards in NFL history.

“Sweetness”, as he was called, seemed to enjoy the game more than anyone else on the field.  He always had a smile on his face and was known to be a practical joker. And at the same time, no one worked harder.  His off-season workouts were legendary.

I loved watching Payton play football.  And every kid I knew pretended to be him when playing football in the neighborhood.  He was our favorite player.  He was our hero.

Two days before my 29th birthday, Walter Payton died.  Earlier that year a tearful Payton would announce he was suffering from rare liver disease called primary sclerosing cholangitis (PSC).  Reading the article in Sports Illustrated today (which was put together from excerpts from a controversial new book on Payton), brought back the sadness I felt the day he died.

The article made me sad for another reason.  I was hoping it would be a nice trip down memory lane – remembering the man and player I loved watching so much as a kid.  I was even thinking that my son Evan could read the article, because he knows how Payton was my favorite football player (Evan put my old Walter Payton poster up in the basement).  Instead, the article largely detailed a side of Payton I never knew.  A side, that seemingly, only a few knew.  A not-so-positive side.

Payton apparently carried on an affair for many years.  Abused pain medication.  At times was distant from his kids. Dealt with depression and thoughts of suicide.

I’ve heard how many have denounced the article and book.  The overall feeling is “what is their to gain” by trashing a man’s reputation, who doesn’t have the ability to defend it.  I would agree with that.  That does make me sad.

I’m also sad because he was a hero of mine.  I’m sad thinking that his kids, who have already lost their father, now have to deal with the hurt that comes with these things being made public. I’m sad because we typically build people up, only to later look for ways to tear them down.  I’m sad thinking of those who will be disillusioned by this book.  I’m sad thinking of those who will be further jaded by this news, too.

Sadly, I am a bit disillusioned.  I’m also a bit jaded.  Part of me wants to say, “Should we really be surprised?”  And really we shouldn’t.  But not because he was just “another athlete” who seemed to be such a “good guy”, but wasn’t who we thought he was. The reality is you can change out “another athlete” with “another celebrity” or “another politician”.  The reality is, you can change out “another athlete” with “another human being”.  With me.  With you.

I get sad because the Payton detailed in the article is how many will now view him.  For many, that will be their last impression of him.  While others will be in denial – either not believing the article or saying “what difference does it make?”

We do that.  Hero or jerk.  He has to be one or the other, right?  We pick sides.  We pick parts of people’s lives, either their biggest moments or most egregious sins and we define them.  But we never know someone’s whole story.  I don’t know all the amazing things Walter Payton may have done (or not done) for humanity.  I don’t know if he ever felt regret or remorse.  I don’t know if he ever sought forgiveness or tried to make amends.  I don’t know if his life ended with refusal or redemption.  That’s the danger when we try to define a life.

The truth of the matter is that we all have our “heroic” qualities and moments.  We also all have those qualities and moments that we are not so proud of.  The majority of us won’t have those parts of our life published and publicized for the world to hear (whether we are alive or dead).

For as much of a hero as he was on the football field, Walter Payton was all human.  I won’t try to justify the “sins” of Walter Payton.  Saying we’re human doesn’t give us a free pass to do whatever we want.  But the reality is that being human, means being flawed.  It means that despite our best efforts, we’ll mess up.  We’ll disappoint.  We’ll disillusion.  Even those who appear to have it altogether.

My sins may very well be different from those of Walter Payton, but I’m a sinner none-the-less.  When I’m dead, I’d hate for those sins to define me and define my “legacy”.  Especially since they don’t tell my whole story.

Field of Dreams

There are many times as a Dad where I missed the mark or didn’t get it right.  Not to brag, but I believe on Friday I got it right.

Side note:  Ever notice when someone says, “not to brag” they are about to brag?  It’s kind of like when people say, “I don’t mean to judge, but …” or “I’m not a racist, but …” or “I didn’t mean to use your toothbrush to clean the toilet, but …”

Anyway, back to my bragging (Don’t worry, you can brag about me later if you are worried about that) … on Friday, Evan celebrated his 11th birthday.  He originally didn’t want a party, but then days before his birthday he decided he wanted one.  It wouldn’t be a big deal, if birthday parties didn’t become such big deals!

Back in the day – it was friends, cake, presents and maybe a freaky clown that would give kids nightmares for years.  It was great and we liked it!  Now, they’ve become these elaborate events where you feel like you need pyrotechnics and a million dollar budget.

The only thing I can remember that was something beyond the normal for a birthday party when I was a kid is when me and my friends watched a bootlegged VHS copy of “Raiders of the Lost Ark” my Dad got from a friend.  Nothing is more heartwarming than a potential felony involved in your birthday.  Plus, I’m pretty sure we didn’t rewind the tape either.

Birthday parties somehow progressed to Chuck-E-Cheese (where a large rodent now scars children) to large events worthy of a professional party planner.   For my daughter’s 8th birthday, she had some traveling animal act come by the house.  It’s a long story, but the band Echoing Angels also came by the house and played for the kids.  I’m sure they’ll never forget the gig where they opened for Coyote Chris and his hedgehog at little girl’s birthday party.  They are pushing to be the headliner this year …

For Evan’s 10th birthday, we held it at an indoor water park.  They pretty much ignored all the slides and played basketball in the pool.  So this year, I said why don’t we just order pizza and you can play football in the backyard?  Well, in order to sell it I said I would throw him a “kick butt football party”.

It didn’t take amazing planning.  It wasn’t elaborate.  I took a few hours and 7 cans of spray paint to turn my backyard into a football field.  I have to say it looked pretty good – like a professional field, if a professional field had lots of weeds, dead grass and had to be pooper-scooped.

But Evan and his friends didn’t care – they loved it!  They literally played until they couldn’t see anymore.  One of his friends said it was the best birthday party he ever went to … they ate pizza and played football for 5 hours …  no clowns, no water park, no animal act, just pizza and play.

I was reminded that the best moments and memories, very rarely are attached to things that are expensive or elaborate.   Often times, it’s the simple things that show you love and care for them that have the biggest impact. I have a feeling he’ll remember this birthday – the day my dad made the backyard into football field – forever.

On Saturday, I looked into my backyard and saw a ripped apart lawn.  Julie reminded me that someday we’ll look back there and it will look beautiful and pristine and we’ll long for the days of boys happily playing on it and ripping it apart.

Why I Like Puppies and World Peace …

I was reminded the other day of a bit I used to do on the radio called “Football for Dummies … No Offense, God Bless You”.  The title just rolls off your tongue.  We knew that there would be some people actually offended by using the word “dummies”, thus the reason “no offense” was added to the title.  The joke, of course, is that anytime someone uses the phrase “no offense” it’s usually after they said something offensive.  So “God Bless You” was also added to soften it even more.  How can you be mad?  I said “God Bless You.”

The bit was basically a way for me to talk about football on a radio station geared towards women.  The gist of  it was that I “educated” listeners who weren’t fans on what was going on in football (usually around playoff time), so they wouldn’t feel left out during office water cooler talk or could act like they knew what they were talking about during the big game.

It was silly.  It was supposed to be more funny, than educational.  But we actually got calls and messages from listeners who genuinely found it helpful and informative.  Who knew that was possible with me?

I like football.  In fact, I was going to title this “Why I Like Football”, but figured that if you didn’t like football, you wouldn’t read this.  So that’s why I put “puppies and world peace” in the title, instead. But you are reading this! Who is the dummy now?  Unless you just stopped …

I understand that some don’t like football.  My late grandfather didn’t like football.  He used to say, “Why do they all have to fight after that ball?  They make so much money, you’d think they could just buy their own?”  But humor me for a bit as I share why I like football.  Maybe afterwards, you might like it a bit more, too.

• It’s the ultimate reality show. A non-contrived drama, comedy and sometimes emotional roller coaster. 
• It’s socially acceptable to spit, hug and pat somebody on the butt … but enough about the fans!  Hey now!
• Even thought it can be a microcosm of life in terms of people failing off the field, it also provides opportunities for wonderful redemption stories like Michael Vick.  And opportunities for us to forgive and extend grace.
• Fantasy football!  ’Nuff said. 
• Classy players and role models like Walter Payton and Tony Dungy.
• Even when they are not potty-trained, they are cute!  (Oops!  That was for my “Why I Like Puppies” list).
• I’m currently watching a live football game right now at 1am!  Not sure if that’s good or not …
• The way a team can rally a town.  
• Even better, is that it’s something I can enjoy with my dad and with my son.

There you go.  I hope you enjoyed it.  If you didn’t, I won’t take offense.  God bless you.

In His Shoes

“‘You don’t know a man’s pain unless you walk a mile in his shoes.’ But you can’t walk a mile in Shannon Sharpe’s shoes because that wouldn’t do it justice. You need to walk 20 years of my life.”

Saturday night it was a mixture of Disney Channel, HGTV and ESPN on the TV.  You can probably get an idea who in the family had control of the remote at any given time.  But there was one moment that even my wife – who could care less about sports (unless it involves our kids) – was riveted to ESPN.  It was during Shannon Sharpe’s Pro Football Hall of Fame induction speech.

Sharpe played tight-end for both the Broncos and Ravens, won three Super Bowls and set many records for his position throughout his career.  He had a reputation as a player who talked a lot and was never shy to express his opinions, on or off the field. I guess it’s a skill that has served him well now as a commentator for NFL games on CBS.

We often assume we “know” about these players based on what we’ve seen on TV or read on the internet.  Saturday we got a glimpse into who Shannon Sharpe is.  Got a chance to see what life in his shoes was like.

He spoke for 14 minutes and 23 seconds with the urgency, fervency and energy of traveling evangelist.  At times all I could do was shake my head and say, “wow”, while other times I had a lump in my throat.  And the performer in me even thought, “I’d hate to be the guy who has to give his speech after this!”

Sharpe praised his older brother Sterling, a former receiver with the Packers who was on track for the Hall of Fame until his career was cut short by injuries.  Shannon said that he’s the only member of the Hall of Fame that was the second best football player in his family.  With that, tears rolled down Sterling’s face and on many others, I’m sure.

Shannon spoke of being raised in Glennville, Georgia, by his loving “granny”.  About being so poor he often ate raccoon, squirrel or possum. About the realities his family faced living in their cinder block home of deciding month to month would they buy groceries or pay the electric bill.  About going off to college with all his belongings in two grocery bags.

When he was 12, Shannon asked his Granny what she wanted if he ever had money.  A huge home?  A fancy car?  She said a “decent home”, which she defined this way – “I want God to let it rain as hard as he possibly can, and I want him to let it rain all night long. I want to wake up and not be wet.”

A roof that didn’t leak – that’s what she wanted and that’s what drove Shannon.

I did internally groan a bit when he said he didn’t apologize for missing his own kid’s games, recitals, graduations and about ruined relationships.  They were casualties along the way of making a better life for his family.

The idealist in me, wanted him to say he regretted that.  That if he had to do it all over again, he wouldn’t have made those sacrifices in pursuit of his own dream.

The realist in me, knows that’s easier said than done.  The realist in me, knows that on a different scale, I’ve made similar sacrifices.  I don’t try to justify that and I’m not saying that it’s right.  It’s not.

But I realize that my background and life experience is way different from Shannnon Sharpe’s life experience.

A squirrel was something in my backyard, not a dinner option.  I never had to choose between having light to do my homework or eating.  And a leaky roof was temporary inconvenience quickly fixed.

It’s so easy to pass judgement on the choices people make, when we really don’t know them. Saturday night I got an idea of what it’s like to walk in Shannon Sharpe’s shoes, while realizing the work I need to do walking in my own shoes.