Working in IT, specifically in a production support role, can really suck. Sure, the pay tends to be higher than the national average and on occasion you get to attend conferences and play with new technologies, but for the most part it’s a career of frustration and disrupted sleep cycles. Like a Pavlovian dog, my stomach churns whenever my pager goes off at 2:00 AM. Will this be a 5 minute fix or a 5 hour debacle?

For me, this past work week gave me only one day in which I managed more than 4 hours of sleep on a given night. So it was with great reluctance that I decided to stay up on Sunday morning and watch the men’s gold medal basketball game. Boy, am I sure glad I did!

In the course of these Olympics, I haven’t watched more than one half of any game. Primarily a result of the time difference, I’ve relied on SportsCenter and the Internet to keep me updated on the progress of the men’s basketball team in Beijing. The story had been pretty much the same. “Team USA should not underestimate their international opponent. Team USA wins by 35 points.” So as I woke up from my mini-nap just in time for tip off, I sat in front of my TV with the expectation of watching our national team cruise to a gold medal.

Anyone who knows me knows I can be a passionate sports fan. With football season around the corner, I’ve already stocked up on extra bottles of Tums and throat lozenges. So as I sat – and stood and jumped and cheered and clapped and yelled – I had to remind myself it was four in the morning on a Sunday! I never would have expected this game to have been so exciting, not to mention frustrating at times, to watch.

It began early with Spain jumping out to a very quick five point lead on Team USA. Add to that the tightly officiated, almost ticky-tack nature with which the referees were blowing the whistle and the ugly sense of ‘upset in the making’ starting creeping into my gut. The two best players in the world, Kobe Bryant and LeBron James, each picked up two fouls in the first ten minutes. “Uh oh! Not good.” The nail biting began.

It was then that coach Mike Krzyzewski made the first of his many astute coaching moves and went to his reserves. With James and Bryant sitting, Dwyane Wade came off the bench and was simply electrifying scoring over 20 points in the first half. When you consider the passion and toughness with which the Spanish players played, those were critical points that allowed the US to enter the half with the slimmest lead of these Games.

Spain’s un-intimidated intensity, team play and chippiness carried over into the second half, and they managed to linger against a team full of NBA all-stars. In the fourth quarter, Spain closed the gap to two points. Not twenty-two. TWO! As I peeled off the seal on my first bottle of Tums, Coach K called a much needed time-out to regroup the team. What followed was an exciting display of basketball, highlighted by Kobe Bryant taking over the game and responding to every big shot Spain had to offer.

As time expired, the United States secured gold and reclaimed its spot atop the international basketball community. For as much as I hated the moniker applied to this group of athletes – The Redeem Team – there was something to be said about watching Team USA do what they have not done in my son’s lifetime: win a gold medal in international play.

I’m glad I stayed up to watch this game and experience the excitement and passion that defines the Olympics. I’m sure I will be paying for it later on in the day, but as a sports fan it was completely worth it. All that’s left for me to do now is trudge off to bed with a smile on my face and the hope my pager doesn’t go off anytime soon.

With a pass to the center of the net and a lightning fast, second hit spike by her partner, Misty May-Treanor watched her dream come true yet again. Capturing their second consecutive gold medal in Olympic beach volleyball, the tandem of Walsh and May-Treanor solidified their place in the pantheon of volleyball greatness.

Not only did this dynamic duo fail to lose a match on their quest for repeat gold, the two queens of the beach were so dominating, they did not even lose a set in the Olympic tournament. In fact, Thursday morning’s victory marked the 108th consecutive win for Walsh and May-Treanor. Michael Phelps, with his eight gold medals, may be the face so far of the 2008 summer games, but 108 is the mark of true domination in a sport that is the quintessential combination of individual and team athleticism.

It is during her moment at the top of the volleyball world that Misty May-Treanor sheds tears of both joy and sorrow. It was six years ago this Olympic champion lost her mother Barbara to cancer, and it was in the culmination of May-Treanor and Walsh winning their first gold medal in Athens in 2004 that Misty shared that victory with her mom. Standing in the middle of the Olympic Beach Volleyball Center in Faliro, Greece, Misty opened a medicine bottle containing the ashes of her deceased mother and spread her remains across the sand. As she celebrated her historic win in Chaoyang Park, Misty made her way courtside to her gear and found the camera film canister that carried more of Barbara’s ashes. In a bit of a rush, Misty managed to empty the contents of the canister on the sand in China and completed the promise she made to herself four years ago in Greece.

I can’t even begin to understand what it means to be a world class athlete, let alone an Olympic champion. Watching these and every Olympics, I am often left fascinated with the realization that I am watching so many individuals do so many things I could never do. Sure I can run on a track, but I can’t come remotely close to running as fast as an Olympian. I can kick it around in the sand, but I’d get smoked in any type of competitive beach volleyball tournament. Still, if there is one thing I have in common with a certain gold medalist, it’s the understanding of what it’s like to lose a parent to cancer.

Death is never something that’s easy to accept. The pain and the loss, like the tattoo Misty wears of Barbara’s initials surrounded by angel’s wings, will be a permanent part of who she is. Still, it’s often in the depths and emptiness of life’s tragic moments where we find our greatest source of inspiration and strength. I am not sure if the passing of her mother was the turning point that drove Misty to accomplish back-to-back Olympic gold, but one would think her outlook on volleyball and life itself had to change in 2002.

For me, losing my dad will always resonate with the time in my life when I felt most lost. Like a beach volleyball player, my path forward since that moment has been made possible by both individual effort and the help and support of others. I know I will never listen to the Star Spangled Banner as a gold medal drapes around my neck, but in watching Misty May-Treanor do exactly that, it was wonderful to know the spirit of Barbara May was with her just as I know my father’s is with me in everything I do.

I have a problem.  It’s not something that’s easy to admit, but it’s there.  I can’t go more than five minutes without scratching that itch that burns inside of me until it’s satisfied.  I wake up in the middle of the night and I need some.  I’m on a conference call at work and I need a taste.  If I had an iPhone, I am sure I would hit rock bottom.

 

I am a Facebook addict.

 

There.  I said it.  As much as it shames me to admit it, I am.  From super pokes to friend requests, I crave the next notification I receive in Facebook.  Someone wrote on my Wall?  I’m like a kid at Christmas scrambling to see who and what.  And I can’t even begin to explain the rush when two people become friends on Facebook …….. as I suggested.

 

It’s intoxicating, reconnecting with long-lost classmates and keeping tabs on my friends who live around the corner.  Sure there are other social networks (this blog will be posted on my MySpace account), but none have the right combination of cool and mature like Facebook.  If for no other reason, you have to admire the fact Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg walked away from a $1 Billion offer (yes, with a ‘B’) in order to keep his vision for his creation intact.  Now that’s the brass balls kinda’ cool I want to be a part of.

 

So I diligently keep my browser open all day, periodically refreshing to see if anything new has come in.  I will admit the avalanche of application add-ons can get annoying and frustrating.  By the same token, I am sure heroin addicts get tired of the track marks, too.  Still, the rush makes it all worthwhile.   I scope other people’s pages to see what they’ve been up to and with whom they’ve been communicating.  It’s a little dirty and creepy, but then again aren’t all addictions?

 

I look at my Friends list and I feel like I’m building a little empire.  “Just hit 200 friends.  Next stop, 500!”  There’s an eerie appeal to creating a group in FB and watching as other people join it.  I send out e-mail invitations to people who would not otherwise take part in a social network and they sign up.  Can you hear the ego – and the addiction – being fed? 

 

I’m also rediscovering my past.  Thanks for Facebook, my Friends list has exploded with individuals I’ve known since childhood.  High school classmates and grade school acquaintances, visiting their FB pages is like taking a trip to the past.  Like the virtual magic shroom that it is, Facebook is opening up areas of my mind I had forgotten were there.  Trip indeed.

 

So I wrap up this blogosphere confessional knowing that through admission I have taken my first step in facing my problem, and knowing it’s been more than 10 minutes since I’ve checked my page.  Gotta’ go.

People are always looking for ways to reduce scarring.  From specialty products like Mederma to everyday items like petroleum jelly and Aloe Vera, no one wants to stare at an unsightly flaw on their skin.

 

Today I was made to think about how our life’s journey is the skin of our lives, and how flaws in our judgment, personality and desires can leave scars that are unsightly to our souls and equally impacting to the lives of others.  Lord knows the path I chose in my not-so-distant past lead me down a turbulent and troublesome journey; a journey that, at the time, seemed to leave a scar that no amount of Mederma or Aloe could ever make better.

 

Little did I know the secret to healing the skinned knees and bruised egos of a painful path is simply time.  Time for the lessons learned to set in.  Time for the pains to subside and the sun to break through the clouds.  Time for all the thoughts to make sense and the clarity – the real vision of what is true and what was perceived – to finally come into focus and have it all make sense.  Time truly does heal all wounds. 

 

In one of those quirky twists of fate, as I was driving home reflecting on  the very thing that got this whole thought process rolling, I turned on the radio in my truck and playing was ‘Landslide’ by Fleetwood Mac.  Ironically, I wrote about this song back in March of 2005.  I thought at that time I had turned a corner in my life and had overcome the weight that had been keeping me down.   I look back on that entry knowing it was a mere moment of strength in tempest that lasted well beyond the day I wrote down those thoughts.

 

And thinking of that moment made me realize one very important thing.  As I’ve allowed time to pass and fill the space between that entry and today, I see now that I no longer look back as I once used to.  My present day thoughts are not focused on the road that brought me here, but rather on the road that lies ahead.  I think about being engaged and sharing my life with the love of my life.  I think about summer fun with my kids and the many adventures yet to be experienced with my friends.   My thoughts are positive with the ideas of what will happen and not deadened by the memories of what did happen.

 

I can look in the mirror and see my skin, tanned from the sun, a sign that I am so blessed to be living my life in a new and wonderful light.  Yes, there are blemishes and marks of tumbles taken in the past.  The scars will forever be there, serving as a reminder of what happened once so very long ago.  Still, it’s not the first thing I see.  It’s not the only thing I see.  In fact, the scars are no longer visible unless I am specifically looking for them, and I am glad I have not had a reason to look for them in so long now.

I was wrong.  I was so flat out wrong.  All those times rolling my eyes and letting out sighs at the thought of money frivolously spent.   All those moments when I thought to myself what a complete waste of time.  All those instances when I opined it to be an absolute non-necessity in life.  Month after month, time after time, spent dollar after spent dollar.  I just didn’t get it.  It simply did not make sense to me.  Did I mention how wrong I was?

 

And what, exactly, is the egregious offense to which I refer?  As much as it pains me to admit it, I am referring to a day at the spa.  While on vacation at the Aventura Spa Resort in Cancun, I caved and allowed myself to take advantage of the free manicure, pedicure and massage that was included with our reservation.  For that matter, I cannot even claim I spent a full day at the spa.  From what my girlfriend Lee explained to me, my mani-pedi-massage experience was more of a spa sampler than anything else. Still, what an absolutely amazing experience. 

 

I know I write this at the risk of having my man card revoked.  I also know that as my male friends read this, those individuals who collectively make up my close circle known as ‘the fellas’, they will hold this over my head and never allow me to live it down.  Still, I do so in a completely relaxed state of mind and body and with an absolutely fabulous set of nails.

 

It all began when Lee and I began planning our wonderful, two-week getaway.  Following a week of fun and adventure in Costa Rica, we scheduled a week at the all-inclusive Palace Aventura Spa resort in Cancun, Mexico.  It’s called the Aventura Spa for a reason.  In addition to the many other amenities at this resort, the spa itself is beautiful, enormous and an adventure just to get out of.  I literally got lost as I was allowed to tour the men’s locker room area of the spa.  It must be about 1500 square feet of cherry wood lockers, maple benches, steam rooms, whirlpools, lounge area ….. and that’s just the upstairs part of it.

 

My spa experience began with a 25 minute back massage.  I’ve had a massage before, but this experience made my first time at a masseuse seem like little-league by comparison.  I have no idea how the lady assigned to me did it, but she moved her arms and hands across my back in manners I did not know were possible.  It was coordinated and fluid and incredibly relaxing.  At one point I let out a deep sigh of relief.  She asked if she was hurting me.  I said quite the contrary because it felt too good.  My 25 minutes passed by in what seemed like only 5, and when it was all said and done I was barely able to get up from the table.

 

After a brief break, Lee and I proceeded to the salon for our respective manicures and pedicures.  I had no idea what to expect, but the service was friendly and comforting and I easily allowed myself to get into the spirit of the experience. Lee and I sat across from each other as my technician began working on my feet.  I couldn’t keep track of everything she did, but I know there was scrubbing, rubbing, filing and soaking involved. The heated massage chair didn’t suck either.  Once complete, we proceeded over to the manicure tables where I got to soak my fingers alla old Palmolive commercials and watch my technician work on my cuticles, file my nails and finish everything with a coat of clear polish. Looking at them now, they’re still spectacular.

 

Perhaps I crossed over some metro-sexual barrier today.  Perhaps I allowed myself to get in touch with my feminine side.  Perhaps I simply took great advantage of the “all-inclusive” part of this resort and had one too many at the bar.  Either way, I am glad to look back at today’s spa treatment and smile knowing I shared this new experience with Lee.  The macho side of me – or what’s left of it at least – wants to stand up and say it was a one time thing that I’ll never do again.  Still, I think I may just have to schedule an appointment once Lee and I get back to Florida.  After all, my nails won’t stay glossy forever.

There are only four more days left in the month of May, and there are only two teams in Major League Baseball with a winning percentage of .600 or better. The combined payroll for both these teams is $65M, which is less than half that of the NY Mets (currently with a .469 winning percentage and 6.5 games back in their division) and less than one-third the payroll of the NY Yankees (currently with a .490 winning percentage and 6 games back in their division).

The two teams that sit atop their respective divisions and all of MLB in general are the Tampa Bay Rays and the Florida Marlins.

Go ahead. Rub your eyes and double check what you just read. Yes, on this day following Memorial Day weekend, the two best teams in baseball are those from the state that historically was known only for baseball in March not May.

Although it's still too early to crown either of these teams – the Marlins' lead in the NL East is only two and a half games while the Rays lead the defending World Series champion Red Sox by only one-half game in the AL East – it's never too early to join in the excitement of summer baseball that matters in the state of Florida.

Having been born and raised in Miami and now residing in Tampa, this is doubly-exciting for me. Specifically for the Rays, a team that did not exist when I moved to the Bay area in 1996, it's great to see them playing so well in the most expensive division in the majors ($.5 Billion in payroll this year) if not the most talented. Accounting for only $44 million of the half-billion dollar collective payroll, the Rays are getting it done with youth and great starting pitching. With every win comes additional confidence and belief the team can continue to play well and compete for the AL East title.

The Marlins, on the other hand, have been here before having won the World Series in 2003. However, the Marlins had to surge from 10 games below .500 prior to the All-Star game that year and get some luck along the way in order to qualify for the wild card and the playoffs. Their poor position in the standings in 2003 serves as a reminder that just because you're on top in May or June does not mean that's where you'll finish at the end of September, and vice versa.

Nevertheless, the excitement for baseball in the state of Florida is tangible. With the recent championships won in this state slowly disappearing in the rear-view mirror (Bucs in 2002, Marlins in 2003, Lightning in 2004 and Heat in 2006), the idea of either the Rays or the Marlins playing in the Fall Classic brings a child-like smile to every baseball fan who calls Florida home. On this day following Memorial Day weekend, here's hoping the standings look the same the day following Labor Day weekend as well.

As I look back on memories of my life, I can think about personal accomplishments as a youth both on the track and on the field. I've been part of championship teams (little league). I've had personal accomplishments in school (student body President, Scholar-Athlete of the Year). I remember the feeling of opening the acceptance letter from Tulane University. I can look back at promotions and salary bumps in the fourteen years since I graduated from college. I recall taking a cruise with 500 of my closest friends and rocking my butt off. I've even jumped out of a plane.

Still all those memories and all those feelings pale in comparison to the feeling of being a dad. These past two days, I've been so blessed to see the culmination of two of Daniel's activities. Monday night saw him graduate from a Tiger scout to a Wolf scout. It was really just a formality as all other Cub Scouts also crossed over to their next level of scouting. Still, I felt a sense of pride as I looked back on all of Daniel's accomplishments in his first year as a scout, and all the wonderful memories we shared together. I am excited at the idea of being more involved next year, and I know the overall scouting experience will continue to get better as Daniel gets older.

This brings us to Tuesday and the championship game for Daniel's basketball season. What started out as my stumbling into an assistant coaching position – I was helping out the first night and the coach asked me if I wanted to formally help him out – turned into a 7-1 season record and a fairly convincing first round playoff win. That lead us to the championship game on Tuesday night against the team that handed us our lone loss of the season; a loss that came in sudden-death overtime after the game ended in regulation with a tie.

Coach Darrell and myself have been on the same page since day one, and in addition to teaching fundamentals, we've also tried hard to make the overall experience fun for the kids on the team. We've also done a good job in getting everyone involved, and that is evident by the fact that every player on our team scored at least once this season. Tuesday night was no different and we had five of our eight players score a basket. Still, as it was 2 weeks ago, the game ended in regulation with a tie.

We actually had to come from behind to tie the game, and we did so with a set play we had worked on time and time again in practice. DJ, coach Darrel's son, dribbled the ball down court, allowed his teammates to setup offensively, and made a solid pass into the post to Brandon. Brandon, as we instructed him to do all year, turned and made the shot for the 2 points and tied the game. It was great to see it executed so well, and Darrell and I knew we had a play to which we could turn on the next possession.

We never got a chance to set that play up again and we found ourselves tied 10-10 as the final whistle blew. This game would also be decided in sudden-death overtime. We won the tip and immediately instructed DJ to setup the play to Brandon in the post. The opposing coach, however, made the necessary adjustment and had assigned a better defender on Brandon, thus preventing DJ getting the ball to his desired teammate. However, the defensive adjustment left Daniel covered by a different player, and as DJ dribbled worriedly in hopes of finding Brandon wide-open, there was Daniel all alone in front of the basket.

"Pass it to Daniel" I shouted out to DJ, and he did just that. "Shoot it! Shoot it! SHOOT IT!!!!!" That's when everything slowed down. The next couple of seconds played out in super slow motion as Daniel pivoted to his left, looked up at the hoop, and let the ball fly. All I heard was my heart beat. THUMP THUMP …… THUMP THUMP …… THUMP THUMP. The ball hit the front of the iron, took an excruciating bounce upwards and found its way into the basket and through the net.

Back on May 3rd, I wrote about my experience with Daniel's first ever basket in a game. I mentioned how it took everything to keep me from running out on the court and hugging him. Well, we had just won the championship. Daniel, with his soft shot, had just won the championship, and run out on the court and hug him is exactly what I did. I picked him up, his smile competing in size with mine, and gave him a big kiss. My heart just wanted to burst and I was just elated with pride and joy. It was amazing and inexplicable, and it was a feeling I will never ever forget.

And as I look back on the many, many high's in my life, I know they will always take a back seat to the high's of watching my kids succeed and the absolute and blessed pleasure that comes from being a dad.

What’s the first thing Kobe Bryant did upon formally being awarded the NBA’s Most Valuable Player award?  Probably send a ‘thank you’ case of Scotch to Chris Wallace, the General Manager of the Memphis Grizzlies and the person who executed the trade that sent Pau Gasol to Los Angeles and made it possible for Kobe to win his first league MVP award.  Let’s face it, if not for the Gasol acquisition, not only would Kobe not have won the award, the Lakers would have most likely finished 4th or 5th in the hyper-competitive Western Conference.

 

With all due and deserving respect to Kevin Garnett and the work he’s done in Boston, this year’s MVP award should clearly have gone to Chris Paul of the New Orleans Hornets.  Not only has CP3 led the Hornets to heights they’ve not seen since leaving Charlotte, he’s done so without the help of an All-Star Center, as is the aforementioned Gasol.   It’s true when you compare the averages of the other four starters for the Lakers and Hornets, there is not much of a statistical difference (13.3 PPG with 8.75 years of experience for the Lakers versus 14.2 PPG and 8 years of experience for the Hornets).   However, the true measure of value is found when reviewing the complete body of work for each player over the course of the year.

 

Kobe’s individual numbers are better than those of Chris Paul (28 PPG/6 RPG/5 APG versus 21 PPG/4 RPG/12 APG, respectively), and Bryant was far better statistically than the next best Laker starter.  From the aspect the MVP should go to the best player on the best team, one can argue Kobe is deserving of the award.  However, when the focus is on the middle initial of the acronym, there’s no doubt Chris Paul creates more value for the Hornets than Kobe ever can for the Lakers.

Chris Paul came into the NBA in 2005, drafted only a couple of months before Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans and forced the Hornets to play the majority of their games in Oklahoma City.   The displaced New Orleans/Oklahoma City franchise managed to win 38 games that season, a 20 game improvement from the year before, and Chris Paul went on to win Rookie of the Year in the NBA.   Since the 2005-2006 season, the Hornets’ season record is 18 games better in ’07-’08.  By contrast, the Lakers are only 12 games better over the same time period.

 

Specific to this season, Chris’ 12 assists per game versus Kobe’s 4 is a reflection of how CP3 makes the players around him better.  Kobe may have scored 7 more points per game than Chris, but Chris created 16 more points per game than Kobe.  His average of +7PPG versus the average of the other Hornet starters further reflects Paul’s selflessness on the court and his overall contribution to the team effort (Kobe was 15PPG better than the average of his teammates).   Furthermore, Chris Paul led the Hornets to a 68.2% winning percentage this past season.  The Lakers finished with a winning percentage of 69.5%, but ended up winning 76% of their games after acquiring Pau Gasol on February 1.

 

Maybe it’s the glitz and glamour of Los Angeles.  Maybe it’s because sports writers felt New Orleans’ regular season was a fluke – a concept that has been significantly disproved so far in the playoffs.  Maybe it’s the sense Kobe deserves the MVP as a pseudo lifetime achievement award (dare we mention Colorado?).  Either way, there is more value in the 6’0” frame of the little kid from Carolina than in the often-hyped leader of the Lakers.  There is no doubt Kobe will go down as one of the greatest players in NBA history, but he has yet to achieve anything on a Shaq-less Laker team.  Chris Paul has been achieving since his arrival to the NBA.  Although he won’t get to hoist the MVP trophy this year, if CP3 continues to tear it up in the playoffs, he just may be hoisting a different kind of hardware come June.

PART I
This past Thursday, May 1, was my son’s 7th birthday.  Unfortunately, it was also the first time I missed his birthday.  Since the moment seven years ago when the nurse in the hospital first placed him in my arms, this was the first time I did not get to see him on his special day.  Normally this would have been terribly upsetting to me, but there were several factors at play that led to the situation - factors which, as it turned out, brought the whole experience of missing my son’s birthday into one, full, serendipitous circle. 

Firstly, Daniel’s aunt and uncle are visiting from Venezuela.  Daniel’s mom is from Venezuela and both her brothers still live there.  Given the distance and the little time my kids get to spend with their uncles, whenever any one of them is in town I know that I need to concede some of my time with my kids so they can build and enjoy memories with their family.  Taking into consideration my family is still in Miami, Alex has always been sure to return the favor whenever my mom or brother comes for a visit to Tampa.

I also could not share in my son’s birthday because I actually had to work that night.  More specifically, I had to report to training – pole climbing training – and it was scheduled from 4:00 PM to midnight.   I’ll get into the specifics of the why’s and where’s later on, but suffice it to say I had a work obligation that prevented me from my daily routine of picking up the kids at school and doing something special with Daniel to celebrate him turning seven.

And how quickly the seven years have passed.  Whereas Natalie’s birth seems a blur by comparison, I remember so many little details of the day when Daniel came into this world.  For starters, I remember how the experience was so much smoother than when Natalie was born.  Both my kids were delivered via C-Section, and for Natalie, Alex decided to go with a spinal for pain management versus an epidural (don’t ask me why, but in talking with the anesthesiologist way back when it seemed like the right choice at the time).  Needless to say, the spinal did not ‘take’ very well and Alex was in tremendous pain.  So when it came time to have Daniel, the choice from the beginning was for an epidural, and what a great and blessed choice it was.  Alex was cracking jokes and she was able to thoroughly experience and enjoy the birth of our second child.

I also more vividly remember taking care of Daniel as an infant in the hospital.  Maybe it was because I was less nervous the second time around or maybe it was because I was able to share it not only with Alex but also with Natalie, but Daniel’s infancy all seems clearer in my head when compared to his sister’s.  I remember how Good Morning America ran their Summer Concert Series that year and how I was videoing Daniel sleeping while Sting’s ‘Fragile’ played in the background.  The memory of my baby boy will always be linked to that song.  When Sting performed it later that year as part of the fund raiser following 9/11, I just broke down and sobbed uncontrollably.

I look back at the new memories Daniel and I have shared just in the last 12 months.  From soccer and basketball to scouting and camping, it’s been so awesome and amazing to have this little dude by my side.  I think back to last month when I coached him in one of his basketball games.   Although Daniel’s offensive game is lacking, he’s actually quite good at playing defense.  In this one game, he stole the ball from the opposing player, took the ball down court, and stopped-and-popped his first basket of the season.  It took every ounce of strength to contain myself and keep me from running onto the court and hugging him, and I can’t remember ever feeling that much pride in my heart.  It was incredible.

PART II
It’s no surprise then that I am a little bummed I didn’t get to take him for ice cream the afternoon of his birthday.  Instead, I was standing in a training yard at a Verizon facility learning about safety gear and correct pole-climbing technique.  This was all part of contingency training within my company in the event the technicians in the Northeast strike come August.  I have no idea what the negotiation points are or what Verizon may be trying to remove from the next collective bargaining agreements.  What I do know is if there is a strike, I will be deployed to the Northeast to do the job of the striking technicians. That begins with knowing how to safely and correctly climb a pole.  It also involves how to safely and correctly carry a ladder, extend the ladder and connect it to the phone cable running from one pole to the other, etc. 

So there I was, a guy from IT learning how to do one of the most non-IT jobs in all of Verizon.  I had my hard hat on, my safety goggles and my steel-toed boots.  I had a large, leather belt on which were two, large D-rings that would be used to connect the leather strap that wrapped around the pole and would prevent me from falling 18 feet to the ground.

In all seriousness, it wasn’t that bad.  Although I had a pretty bad case of the shakes the first time I climbed the pole, the second climb went very well and I kicked-butt in all my other training tasks.  From removing the 80 pound extension ladder from the truck, to extending it up to a phone line to securing it properly up against a pole, I feel like I had a little bit of special help from above through the whole process.  See, May 1 is not only my son’s birthday, but it is also the anniversary of the passing of Jimmy Roney – Lee’s father.

Jimmy, ironically enough, worked 32 years for GTE as a technician and installer, and part of his job was – you guessed it – climbing poles.  When Lee found out I had to attend pole climbing training all she could do was laugh.  The same reaction was displayed by her mother Patsy as well as her aunt and uncle, Mary and Terry.  As fate would have it, Terry also worked for GTE back in the day, and he, too, climbed poles as a field tech for the phone company.  I’m not going to say that Mary and Terry did not believe in me, but I didn’t exactly get their vote of confidence with regards to me climbing poles and playing the role of Mr. Telephone Man. I guess that’s what I get for being the guy who ‘works with computers’ and has a desk job.  I know Mary and Terry, and Lee and Patsy for that matter, were not being mean but rather complimentary.  Nevertheless, I used it all as added motivation to really do well in the training.

I firmly believe the added motivation manifested itself in training in the form of divine guidance from above.  Compared to the other two men in the class, I completely  rocked.  My harnessing technique was smoother, my ability to stand and raise the ladder better, and the overall quickness with which I was able to complete my tasks made it seem as if they were moving in super slow motion.  Perhaps Jimmy was giving me a hand with the ladder.  Perhaps he was keeping me secure up on the pole.  Whatever it was, I know in my heart it was there.  I could feel it.

PART III
The ease with which I was able to complete my tasks and learn new assignments allowed me to establish a rapport with our instructor.  His name is John Gillis and he retired from Verizon after 30+ years of service, most of which as a field technician up in New Jersey.  He now works as an individual contractor providing training services to Verizon and other telecommunication companies across the country. 

John has the familiar Jersey accent and that almost-lovable, Northeastern demeanor about him.  He’s not the type to sugar-coat an issue, and will quickly tell you when you’ve made a mistake or if you are doing something wrong during training.  Yet, he’s very fair and honest and he points out what he does to ensure the student does not injure himself/herself in the training process.

He’s got that sly sarcasm about him and that smart-aleck wit that is funny yet at the same time brutally honest.  It took me a while but I realized after the second day of training why it is I liked him so much.  As an instructor in the classroom, he was average at best.  Yet out in the yard, he’s a stud and makes everything he does look so easy.  In many ways, he reminded me of my dad. 

My dad was never good at expressing his thoughts verbally and made for a horrible classroom instructor.  But when it came to, “watch how I do it and then show me you can do the same” my dad was the king.  My dad always took the time to explain the little nuances of something or some task, and then expected me to do that something or task just the way he showed me it was too be done. 

That is how my pole climbing training was with John.  There was a comforting sense of familiarity through it all.  It wasn’t until after we were wrapping up our second night that it hit me.  My enjoyment of the class was not only because I was doing so well, but also because for a couple of days, I had the chance to have my dad back.  I had the chance to observe and to learn.  I had the opportunity to perform to certain expectations and challenge myself to do something new.  It was like being a kid again, growing up as dad’s helper and apprentice on the variety of projects on which he was always working on around the house.  And through it all not once did the training ever feel like ‘work’.

I don’t really know how to summarize all of this – the discussion about my son Daniel, about Jimmy and about my dad – into one concise or succinct closing.  I guess you can say I didn’t do something I normally do (Danny’s birthday) because I was off doing something I’d never done before.   Yet it was in being away from my son that I was once again reminded how being with him, and how the moments we create and share together, continue to lay the foundation for the man he will one day grow to be.  For a couple of days I was immersed in this spiritual triangle that linked my past to my future, and although I was only 18 feet off the ground, I felt as if I was high up in the Heavens with those two special angels watching over me and my son.

In the $6Billion business that is the NFL, there is very little room for patience.  As veteran players get older and new, young players get richer, the pressure to produce a winning product grows greater and greater with each passing season.  This is clearly evidenced by the now routine coaching carousel that consumes TV network analysts and web bloggers alike.  Win and you're in.  Lose and get lost.

 

So it’s with a sense of pleasant surprise the Miami Dolphins chose the path of patience – also known as rebuilding – and came to terms with Michigan offensive tackle Jake Long to make him the number one pick in this weekend’s draft.  Sure, there aren’t many sexy picks in this year’s selection as there have been in recent years, but the temptation is always there to go with the big name or rising star with the number one overall pick.

 

By any account, Jake Long is not the best player in this draft.  Hands down, Darren McFadden is the best athlete of the crop, if not the best player, and Matt Ryan is clearly the top QB of the bunch.  Glen Dorsey or Chris Long would make great additions to a stellar yet aging Dolphins defense.  Instead, Team President Bill Parcells, General Manager Jeff Ireland and Head Coach Tony Sparano decided to lay the foundation for what they hope will be an offense that is able to score more than just 17 points per game (26th overall in the NFL in 2007).

 

By selecting Long, the Dolphins are showing they’re committed to fixing their offensive problems long term.  More importantly, Long’s selection at left tackle grants the Fins some flexibility to shift players along the O-Line, and provides second-year quarterback John Beck with an added sense of security that he won’t get killed from his blind side.

 

The early signing also has other GM’s around the league smiling, knowing the spending ceiling has now been set by the Dolphins.  Long’s 5-year, $57.75 million contract ($30 million of which is guaranteed) is extraordinary when you consider his per year average is about $200k more than last year’s number one overall pick Jamarcus Russell.  True, Russell held out with the Raiders and most likely settled for his contract in order to sign and obtain some playing time in 2007.  Nevertheless, Russell is a 6’6”, 255lb franchise-type quarterback capable of throwing the ball 60 yards from his knees.  Long is simply a good, solid player and there’s no way to compare the overall value of an offensive lineman unless his name is Jim Langer, Larry Little or Dwight Stephenson.

 

I hope my fellow DolFans will show the same patience this year as the organization appears to be showing now.  There is no realistic expectation of a winning season for Miami in 2008, especially when you consider that 2-14 would be a 100% improvement from last year.  That being said, the only thing to do is wait and watch as Parcells and his disciples put together building block after building block and restore a tradition of winning to South Florida.