10 Minute Rule

I woke up at 7:45 this morning, two whole hours later than I usually am out of bed. Sick. It was obvious from the pounding in my head to the tightness of my throat. When I was a kid I used to love sick days. It was the one chance to sit at home and just chill without fear of retribution. For me retribution usually meant my mom forcing readings down my throat or being asked to do all kinds of chores that generally didn’t get done by me or anyone else. Sidenote: I think the ‘honey-do’ list is a less draconian form of that.

Nowadays sick time is a thing to be absolutely avoided. I don’t want to waste those hours and wind up in a position where I don’t have them when I need them. Moreover, I want to go to work most days. I love what I do. There are times in every compartment of my life (sports, friends, family, work) where I want to escape because the drama quotient feels too high.

I am really sick though. That is a problem, because I don’t actually know how to be sick. I don’t think I can just sit at home. I’m going to work. If it be from the house than so be it.

Some Thoughts:

1. Rough moment on the sidelines this weekend. There was a dad who I thought I was absolutely cool with who absolutely went off on me after I called out his kid on a bad play. He was angry because he feels because I am a dad and a coach I should not be coaching. He put his kid on the team to get away from such things. The reality seems to be a little more complex. I can tell you he doesn’t respect me as a coach (as he doesn’t know me and he has seen me verbally call out his son on multiple occasions), he doesn’t want to see his son called out publicly, and he is pissed that there are dads who are coaching. I get his frustration because I want my kids to succeed and get the best treatment as well. Still, that is not the way to go about it.
2. I won’t coach up his kid anymore. It is not worth the hassle. The kid is not going to get what I have to offer and the ones around him will. I’ve noticed already that the kid looks at me sideways and it makes me wonder what the dad says at home about our staff. I feel that way about a number of dads and a few coaches I work with.
3. It bugged me. It made me think about how I am as a coach among other coaches and to my players specifically. I’ll be better about the call outs as a result, so something positive came out of this.

As I type, the smooth baritone of Mr. Nightmare chimes in the background. He is sharing three truly chilling blizzard horror stories. I have no way of knowing if any of these stories are real, but it does not actually matter. Most of what I write is rooted in reality but flowers with fiction. Mr. Nightmare helps that sometimes, the way Guillermo Del Toro’s creepy office idea inspires the words he composes. It puts me in the mood.

Mood is important. I’ve been re-listening to Peter Clines’ novel Fourteen and he writes of a house where nobody is capable of dreaming. I believe dreams sort me into a mood where I can write, and if I could not dream I’d find myself in a different type of mood in which the words would never arrive.

This, lately, is not far from my present conditions. I have written time and again about the lack of production I am experiencing and the reasons behind that. Once I sit down to compose all of this assorted strangeness into a book on writing and the writing process I’ll make a special section about setting the mood. I believe it may be the most important part of the process next to consistency.

I started this blog with the title: On Load and Balance. I did not have a lot to say on the topic. Perhaps it is because I am mentally overloaded right now. The last few days were hard. Now I am working to figure out how to do everything I need to do tomorrow morning before I leave. The math does not add up less I get up at 5:30 in the morning and get to work quickly enough that I can be done and ready to leave at 8:30. This might be possible but I’m held back by not having a legitimate list of things I need to do in the morning. I have a sense of what is required, but nothing concrete.

So, I am overloaded and unbalanced.

I am trying to juggle so many near-field responsibilities that I am dropping the balls on most of them. I am draining myself quickly and I have no real plan. In other words, it is the weekend.

My goal is that sooner, rather than later, I can get back to productive and thoughtful writing that allows me to add something to the community as opposed to sending nonsense into the digital void again and again.

Not much doing this eve. Just…

Some Thoughts:

1. Had a chance to look at the team tonight. We have a few holes and more than a few positional log jams.
2. Some parents really insist upon building their entire lives around their kids’ sports lives. I am trying hard not to be that guy with varying degrees of success.
3. I need to figure out some core exercises fast.
4. Next week promises to be a lot. I’m really at the point of being overwhelmed by how much I need to do vs. trying to have a lifestyle where I don’t have a ton to do. There needs to be a middle ground as opposed to violent swings in each direction.
5. I think I’ll call that middle ground ‘calm waters’
6. This makes me think about how important the tides are.
7. My partner wants me to tell her stories. How do I tell her I am not good enough to do that anymore? Maybe I am just afraid that I can’t but actually can. All I can really do is try and fail and see what happens next.
8. This is one of those nights where every word is a drawn out struggle. I have nothing at all to say and nothing left to say by default save for goodnight.

I miss the heck out of football. I didn’t even think I did until I watched a few 7on7 youth games this weekend and got that coaching jones. I’m more about participating as part of the game in that way than I am about waiting around for the next season so we can see who the Giants really are now.

That means I am on to the youth games.

The part I am enjoying now is the training. I am reveling in watching my boys get better at the little things, and I am hopeful it translates to better gameplay. I’ve developed home and weekend routines to help them get ready for the coming season. We work on footwork whenever we are together and it should be enough to give them at least a little edge.

Edge against who? That is what I’m working to figure out. I also really dig the research side of the game. Here is who I think will be in the 10u league this season:

1. Argos
2. Raiders
3. Fire Dawgs
4. Predators
5. Jr Jaguars
6. Jr Rams
7. Buffs
8. Trojans
9. OTB Stars
10. Suns (based off their state championship 9u)
11. Rattlers
12. Soldiers
13. Scorpions

That is all I know for now, but I am curious to see who else shows up. I’m excited about the silly world of statting out teams and seeing who is who and who is real.

I spend a good portion of my life hours working at a college which maintains an indoor gallery space that is usually filled with faculty work. I spent several moments perusing the faculty work and remembering that a lot of people who teach are also very talented at what they teach. This is easily forgotten. There is even a saying around the subject: Those who can’t, teach. I’ve always been offended by the saying, but subconsciously I find that even I connect ones ability to teach to ones ability to do. If I find that a teacher isn’t very good I have at times directly related it to their talent. That is unfair.

teaching a craft is a different skill set than the craft itself. I consider myself a decent And engaging writing Instructor, but that doesn’t come from the same well in which my stories are dredged up and drank down by my readers. There is a connection to be sure, but teaching is a separate language than doing.

knowing this gives me a better perspective on dealing with people and understanding how we can be good at some things and not others.

some thoughts:

1. Curious about how fashion items work. There is this one backpack -someThing like kilraven or something Swedish sounding. It is very ordinary but to have it seems to be a necessity for a particular type of female look. I don’t understand why these things are such, but I want to.

I am coming off a pretty good weekend. I had the opportunity to hang with my family, spend the afternoon and evening with the love of my life, watch the Oscars, watch the kids play sports, coach a little… All of it filled me with such an energy as to catapult me into this week. I feel good still this Monday eve as I contemplate the rest of the week and the enormity of all that I am trying to put together. This is the life I’ve chosen and the life I enjoy.

It is overall, a good life.

Some Thoughts:

1. Excited and curious about the NY Giants rebuild process given the stack of coaching talent being applied to the task. I don’t know what Jason Garrett is really about on offense, but if his early Zeke years are any indication, then there is hope.
2. Our not so new puppy continues to pee all over the house and we really do not have a strategy to stop it. This is driving me straight mad.
3. As I continue to age there are a handful of things I am worried about–loss of vision, heart damage due to race, age and weight, and hunching. That 3rd one seems more and more important.
4. I guess there is a 4th–back injury. My back is less than par.

“Grab them by the pussy.” He said. Yet because he has the momentum of the GOP and a fraction of our nation and churches behind him, we choose to ignore these things. We choose to ignore or highlight all kinds of things about people, because it allows us to reflect back upon them what we think is important and beyond that reflect back upon them what we ourselves fear, face, and need to address.

This is a post that is about Kobe and not about Kobe. In 2003 Kobe was accused of rape by a then 19 yr old hotel worker. In the wake of the #metoo arrival, these cases have gained more attention and the victims (both individual victims and the collective of people who feel victimized) have sought to highlight this as the central tenet of any one person who has this mark upon them. As they brand their scarlet letters upon the chests of men (and yes, the movement has predominantly focused on men) the goal has increasingly been to bring down more and more noted and powerful figures, as if to say, “This is what all men we revere do. This is what all men we revere are.” I argue that the goal of such things is to view public figures through the walls of a glass house and say aloud that what they have done matters only in the context of what they have been accused of.

But what did he do? In the post-accusation statement Kobe spoke from a well-crafted and prepared lawyer statement in which he said, “I also want to make it clear that I do not question the motives of this young woman. No money has been paid to this woman. She has agreed that this statement will not be used against me in the civil case. Although I truly believe this encounter between us was consensual, I recognize now that she did not and does not view this incident the same way I did. After months of reviewing discovery, listening to her attorney, and even her testimony in person, I now understand how she feels that she did not consent to this encounter. “

There is a ton to unpack there–especially in consideration of the 2.5 million dollar max a victim may be awarded in a civil lawsuit of this sort, the fact that she came from a supposedly prominent and wealthy family, and the fact that DNA evidence revealed she had been with multiple men that evening. There are reasons on both sides not to go to trial and key among them I believe is the quiet role that her parents and Kobe’s wife played in the choices that were made. Still, I am not excusing the actions. I am saying that the actions are not the period at the end of his life.

So why then do we treat it that way?

Earlier I mentioned Trump. Will he be remembered as an orange-faced womanizer and recipient of 23 sexual misconduct allegations? Probably not. There are levels and reasons here. One obvious one being that he is a politician now and there are different rules and emotional attachments in place. We tell ourselves (even subconsciously) that we voted for this person and we as a result are complicit. We never want to be complicit. Which is part of why the Kobe stuff is coming out now. It is the way that many in the media are saying they were not complicit.

Well, I am saying that he is still a hero and deserves to be treated like one. Heroes are human and their crimes should not be excused, but they should not be defined by such things–especially when no crime has been adjudicated and no final truth discovered.

I did most of the things that make me happy in life today. I talked with my partner—a stirring conversation over dinner before we took in Gerwig’s Little Women on the eve of the Oscars. I listened to an audiobook. It isn’t quite reading but it is engaging in story. Likewise I engaged in sports by coaching and watching my boys play ball. I hung out with my boys as well and even played games with them. The one thing I didn’t do today that is key to my continued joy is to write. This leads me to wonder if it is key to my continued joy.

that answer is yes but it is more complex than a daily task or ten minutes on a blog. Forty plus years on this planet and I still don’t quite know my process. Perhaps I do and dislike it so thoroughly. I write in fits and starts or the irregular spurts of a rotating garden sprayer. I fail at consistency regularly and have been known to lapse into long periods of wordlessness.

for what it is worth, that serves as my process. That process continues to keep me as a mediocre writer with a narrow body of work, so it has to go. I am not satisfied with my production and know I am capable of more. Yet am I capable of a better and constant process?

this remains to be seen.

Last night my youngest turned towards me and said, “Dad, I don’t think I am going to do very well.” He was standing at the fridge, left hand pressed against the handle. His mouth cut a tight line across his face.

My mouth was moving before my conscious mind could process the words. I knew what he was talking about; knew how I felt about it; knew the space between both of our thoughts and reality. I said, “You’ll do well, so long as you put your heart and time and effort into it.”

Thinking back it was a nonsensical line. It was the hallmark moment fathers are supposed to have where a polite salve of words heals the fractures of growing up. The human body grows from fractures. Our bones are strengthened by microscopic breaks and the re-hardening of bone that quickly follows. Muscle grows and reforms out of the tears that come from stress and effort and from that separation strength is formed.

The mind works in the same fashion. Through pain and failure we better process the value of success. We learn dedication through distraction. We learn love through loss and sometimes envy. We learn the value of family through separation and even death. When he next spoke he asked, “Do you even know what I am talking about?”

“Your book report.” I lied.

“No, dad, I’m talking about this football season. I haven’t trained. I mean, I have trained. I’ve been doing track, but I am not football ready.”

I nodded, watching him walk over to sit beside me. He’s tall for his age, new emotions sprouting up in him alongside the tufts of leg hair that mark the start of early pubescence. He is already five feet and 110 lbs. He still carries a thin sheen of baby fat across his body and it bleeds into the features of his face making him look younger than his ten years. I say, “You’ve been working, but have you been doing everything you can to be as ready as you want?”

“No.”

I ask him why and the answer comes in slow nods. He is like me. He is afraid of success. He is afraid of potential and of realizing how good he is and just how good he isn’t. He rests a lot of faith on this one thing and if it doesn’t go as he wants he doesn’t know what comes next. He is a child and he is me and he is all of us who believe in a singular thing. I nod and I give him a hug and I say, “We go to work and we see what happens.”

It is what I tell myself every day.