Jack’s Blog

Finally out of that intense Las Vegas heat and back to Fresno - where, just to remind us of the fun we had in Sin City, the thermometer is well over 100.

Younger son, Alex, and the undermanned AAU team of kids from Central Cali (Organized Chaos), represented the Valley well, going undefeated (3-0) in their pool and winning two games in the “Championship” bracket (including a 77-51 trouncing of D-1 Sports of NC, led by Quincy Miller, rated by most as the #2 rising senior prospect in the nation) before dropping a two-point decision to Urban DFW in a contest in which OC led most of the way.

Other than getting a chance for my wife and I to watch our son and agonize over every missed shot and turnover, cheer every basket and assist and “help” the officials (some parents more than others - they know who they are), the trip gave me a chance to catch up with some old coaching friends I haven’t seen in a decade or longer.  NCAA rules preclude coaches from talking to parents of prospects at such an event but, because I have what’s referred to as a “pre-existing relationship” with so many of these guys, I enjoyed speaking, without fear of them getting in trouble, with many of the coaches whose profession I used to call my own.  Heck, I’ve known these guys a whole lot longer than I’ve known my son!

To paint a picture of what last Wed-Mon was like, there were three or four tournaments in Las Vegas involving high school prospects.  The one our kids played in (the adidas Super 64) had 40 pools of 4 teams in each pool.  160 teams!  Following pool play, teams were placed in “championship,” “gold,” “silver” or “bronze” divisions, depending on their record against the other three teams in their respective pool.  Then, single elimination tournaments began.  The other events were similar, although their numbers weren’t quite so high, more like 30-60 teams. 

One day, I received a call from a friend and former colleague who I had actually helped get into the business.  He’s currently an assistant coach at a school in a league that would be referred to as mid-major.  He called while travelling from one of the 20 or so sites.  The pace is hectic, as coaching staffs try to see (and be seen by) as many of their “top-line” prospects as they can, evaluate those players they’ve heard about or received interest from (but have yet to see play) and, especially in the case of low-to-mid-majors, maybe find an as yet unknown player whom they’d have a shot at successfully recruiting.

This coach remarked to me that he was fully aware his job was to get players, players who, in coaching parlance, “could play,” i.e. make their team better, win more games and get his team into the NCAA tournament - or get fired.  For the most part, that’s the prevailing attitude that exists in Division I now.  Why?

I posted a blog on 11/28/07 entitled The Biggest Problem in College Basketball Today.  My number one answer?  Colleges are paying coaches too much money.  Whether you agree or not, the blog is well worth reading and I suggest you check it out, keeping in mind I wrote it nearly three years ago.  The game - and profession - have progressed but, often, with progress comes problems.  Or in the case of today’s college basketball scene, increased pressure.  While what Gonzaga has done, i.e. seeing them in a Top 10 poll is no longer shocking, is remarkable, the presidents and athletics directors of the other seven teams in the WCC (Gonzaga’s conference) adopt a feeling of “If they can do it, why can’t we?” 

The WCC is a league of eight church-schools, six in California and the University of Portland, in addition to the Zags, so resources would seem to have been relatively equal throughout the league when Gonzaga began its ascent.  Don’t think the prez’s and AD’s don’t have egos.  When their counterparts from Gonzaga walk into WCC meetings, the “have-nots” begin to wonder, “Why not us?”  Changing the coach often becomes the answer.  So, while my friend’s statement about “get players or else” might have seemed a little dramatic, it’s become reality.

Yet, coaches love their profession.  Some for different reasons than others, but working long hours - and many days on the road - is just part of the job.  Consumed is the word that’s used when the coaching profession is discussed.  As a sort of personal experiment, I asked my friend if he knew who Shirley Sherrod was.  Although hers was the lead story in nearly every paper in the nation, he told me he didn’t.  In fact, when he called, he was in the car with an assistant coach from a high-major program (BCS) and he asked him if he knew about Shirley Sherrod.  Same response. 

I am not including this story to disparage nor criticize my friend and his associate.  It’s mentioned because, when I was an assistant (between 1972-2002), I wouldn’t have known about a front-page story like Shirley Sherrod either.  I don’t mean to infer that every coach on the Division I level is ignorant of the Shirley Sherrod story.  It’s just that, because of the consuming aspect of the job, there’s a feeling that nothing else matters other than what you ought to be doing to make your team better and advance your career (or keep from derailing it).  In addition, you get the (absurd) feeling that while you’re reading about that A-1 story, you could be calling a prospect or seeing another game.

My late, brilliant mentor, John Savage, used to say there were some people at opposite ends of the spectrum.  Most coaches were the latter in his statement:

“Some people are a mile wide and an inch deep, while others are an inch wide and a mile deep.”�

For the true hoops junkie, now is a miserable time.  Not as bad as the middle of June, i.e. after the NBA Playoffs have concluded, but still a bad enough period to leave us with an empty feeling.  Things will get better in a couple weeks or so, when the best (if not the best behaved) athletes in the world start playing for real, but as for now, there is a void.

Some people might spend some quality time with their families (who, if they don’t share the same passion for the game, have been “on the back burner”), some might even read a book, others will force themselves to watch the NBA games - trying to talk themselves into the importance of teams trying to get into the top eight or improve their playoff position - or others will do something else to “get a life.”

If you’re one of those who feels depression coming on, consider you might be in the latter category of the following line from my wonderful mentor, the late John Savage:

“Some people are a mile wide and an inch deep, while others are an inch wide and a mile deep.”

Our younger son, Alex, plays in a tournament at perrenial power DeLaSalle this weekend (Thursday, Friday & Saturday).  With as many trips to the Stanford Pain Management Center as I’ve been forced to make, my sick leave has dwindled to near microscopic levels so taking Friday off is out of the question.  In addition, I’m still old school enough to believe that if someone is paying you to do a job, you ought to fulfill your obligations - in an honest manner.  In addition, my walls are covered with quotes on several topics, one of which is accountability.  Taking a sick day to watch the basketball team just doesn’t qualify as a sick day.  

As bad as I feel physically (and probably will continue to feel until the docs find the right level for this new medication), I wouldn’t feel bad about taking a sick day.  Because of my current health condition, no one would even think to question it.  But not to travel three hours to the Bay Area to watch a basketball tournament - even if my son is playing in it.

So, why go at all?  High school seasons aren’t that long and with Buchanan’s last game was cancelled because the opposing coach suspended 10 players for various transgressions, there went another chance to see ol’ Alex in action.  Bust out of school after the bell rings on Friday and I’ll be able to see two of the team’s three games.  That type of sacrifice is worth it - even though I’m sure I’ll be paying for it on Sunday.

Sure, Alex is just a sophomore, but if anyone thinks three years is a long time, consider what my late, brilliant mentor, John Savage (who also served as my financial advisor), once told me when I questioned locking up a fairly substantial amount of money for three years (albeit at a high rate of interest):

“If you think three years is a long time, borrow money from someone that’s due in three years.  You’ll be shocked at how fast time flies.”�

Most people are lauding Alabama’s Nick Saban as a turnaround expert and a brilliant football coach.  Both of those complimentary phrases are beyond argument.  Saban is both and I defy anyone to challenge them.

As a person, there have been several other descriptions.  Most of these are true as well.  Here’s my first hand account of dealing with Nick Saban, man of many adjectives, each of them carefully designed by Nick himself (both the complimentary and not-so).

When Saban was introduced as the University of Toledo’s new football coach (coming to TU from the Houston Oilers’ staff), I was serving as the associate head basketball coach for the Rockets.  The occasion for his introduction was at the Rocket’s golf tournament, its major annual fundraiser.  The head of the Rocket Club, assistant athletics director, Bob Fountain, had asked me to emcee the dinner which was to follow the tourney.

Bob told me that since (most of) the participants had been drinking while playing (normal behavior for such an event), that he’d appreciate it if I could inject some humor into the dinner.  This role was nothing new for me.  I’m pretty quick-witted and understand that people tend to donate more when they’re happy, so I knew to throw in some self-deprecating humor (not difficult at the time because I didn’t play golf) and make some cracks at the expense of the “heavy hitters,” all of whom I knew well as this was 1990 and I was entering my fourth year at TU.  I’d served as emcee for dinners for years, so I prepared as I always did with some “golf humor” and was ready to give the folks a good time.

Throughout the dinner, I’d joke that Mike Cicak (one of the most astute businessmen and most generous people I’d ever met, as well as best friend of my mentor, John Savage) sliced his first tee shot into someone’s backyard, then hit his next attempt into the water, then finally hooked his ball so deep into the woods he’d have met Bambi if he tried to find it.  When his playing partner said to him, “Mike why don’t you use an old ball,” Mike snapped, “Because I’ve never had an old ball.”  Old joke, but well-received and it worked to set the tone for an enjoyable evening.

Keep in mind that Mike Cicak was a guy who, following the birth of our first child, less than two years after we’d gotten to Toledo and I barely knew him, sent me a note of congratulations - accompanied by a check for $1,000 - because John Savage assured him I was a good guy and “one of us.”  This good natured ribbing went on, laughter permeated the room and, after looking over at Bob Fountain, I got a thumbs up.  It was at this time that I turned over the program to our director of athletics, who introduced our new football coach.

Nick Saban, whom I had yet to meet, got up and began saying that, to him, running a football program was a serious matter.  That, although some coaches thought it appropriate to joke around, that coaching was no joking matter to him.  When it became that way, losing would be a certain result ( a cheap shot at the fact our record the previous season was 12-16).  No matter that I wasn’t the head coach, or that I had been asked to “keep the dinner light” with banter and comraderie.  While Saban was ranting - and wowing the boosters with his motivational talk (they were loving this new no- nonsense leader) - Bob Fountain leaned back from is seat at the head table and mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.” 

To this day, I know he had no idea that Nick Saban was going to go into an “alpha dog” rage to make his point.  He got a rousing ovation from the well-lit crowd, hungry for a winning football season.  When I retook the podium, there was a hush, the crowd waiting for my response to this direct personal assault and an intentional, but completely undeserved, beat down.  I have to admit it crossed my mind to let it be known that “You in the audience have just been entertained and worked into a lather by a truly exceptional motivational expert - who also happens to be the biggest self-serving, ‘It’s all about me & I have no problem stepping on whomever is in my way, even if he is just doing what he has been told to do and, by the way, is a person I have never met‘ dirty pool playing scumbag.”  When it comes to a verbal joust, I’m usually prepared for battle.

I also knew that this wasn’t the time nor the place & how foolish would it be to turn a department fundraiser into a civil war.  So, I got up, paused, looke dout over the crowd and said, . . . “YEAH!” like I was as geeked as those in the crowd.  These were my friends and many came up later to ask what I had done to upset our new football coach.  But he backed up his bold words by going 9-2 that season and was beloved by the same fans.

His mantra was that the college game was where he belonged and he envisioned a long career at Toledo.  At the end of that first year, he left to become the defensive coordinator for the Cleveland Browns, saying, in a tear-filled press conference, he never would have left TU - except for the Cleveland Browns.  Maybe this is why ESPN’s Pat Forde subsequently referred to him as a “liar” and Don Shula (someone who also is recognized as a decent coach - and human being - proving the two do not have to be mutually exclusive) couldn’t refute the description of Saban as “a raging fraud.”

This alpha dog mentality carried into that first year.  The offices were situated in a strange way at Toledo’s Savage Hall (named after one of the greatest individuals I’ve ever had the honor of knowing - and someone who, while he wasn’t present at the golf dinner, let me know the following day I should pay no attention to Saban’s ambush because he’s obviously “cut from a different cloth” than others John knew - and respected).  The only entrance to each of our offices were off of a long hallway.  Therefore, when leaving, a visitor would have to walk down the hallway to exit the building.

One of Nick’s favorite ploys was to bring in a football player and read him the riot act in his paper-thin wall office.  When he was through berating the player, the kid would have to make the “walk of shame” down the hall, in front of the secretaries and other coaches’ offices, exacting the very effect Coach Napoleon had desired.

One day, I was summoned to the Big Kahuna’s office, where he informed me he’d heard the basketball staff was breaking NCAA rules and he was not about to be part of a university that was in any way shady.  I leaned forward in the chair opposite his desk and said, “Look, Nick, I don’t know where you heard this - or even if you heard this (making it known that he orchestrated scenarios to enhance his position), but before you make any more statements about cheating, you might want to get (and I brought up the top high school running back prospect in Toledo, a kid who was getting attention from Big Ten and SEC schools) out of Glasstech’s skybox where he’s being fed before your games.  You and I both know that’s a major NCAA violation.  So why don’t you take care of the football program and let us run basketball?” 

I never did find out why he selected me as the person to occur his wrath, but I was anxious to let him know that I saw through him and his self-serving bluster.  Having been at Tennessee, Western Carolina and Washington State before Toledo, I had sensational realtionships with each school’s well-known football coach - Johnny Majors, Bob Waters (maybe the finest coach/person I’ve encountered, whose life was tragically cut short by ALS) and Jim Sweeney, respectively.  I’ve always considered myself a team player as far as being a member of an athletics department staff was concerned, but if he wanted to take off the gloves, so be it.

Later in the day, when he was in that narrow hallway, talking to at a couple of secretaries (who, to his delight, were in complete fear of him), I yelled out, “Hey, Nick, how do you spell your name, with an N or a PR?”  Since it was so unexpected, the secretaries burst out laughing, then quickly tried to stifle their outburst.  Saban stalked back to his office.

Once more before I end this piece, let me say that Nick Saban has been called, arguably the greatest college football coach ever - and I find it extremely difficult to refute that.  He won his one year at Toledo, won at Michigan State, won it all at LSU and is favored to do the same in only his third year at Alabama.  Too bad his personal skills (and I’m not talking about those he has with boosters and fans he cultivates and who fawn all over him) are diametrically opposed to his coaching prowess.

To me, the line that sums up Nick Saban the best comes from Abagail Van Buren:

“The best index to a person’s character is (a) how he treats people who can’t do him any good and (b) how he treats people who can’t fight back.”               �

All the “Strengthen the weak by weakening the strong” devotees out there are having an absolute field day with the recent Tiger Woods’ fiasco - complete with paparazzi, innuendoes, concubines, apologies and . . . how much more is there?

The above line was told to me back in the late 80s by my (then) newfound mentor, John Savage (see the author of yesterday’s blog quote).  What I derived out of that quotation is the analogy that there exists a large totem pole in life and everyone wants to be at the top of it.  If people are above you, there are two ways to leapfrog them.

One is to work, scratch, claw and generally give every ounce of energy you’ve got in order to overtake them.  The other is to pull them down below you.  Which method is easier?  Which one is more fun?  But there are two major reasons (thankfully) it doesn’t work.

The first is that there are too many people you’d have to pull (tear) down and you’d eventually run out of time.  The other is, even if this immature, meanspirited manner of dealing with the problem did, in fact, work, you’d be sitting on top of the shortest totem pole in history.

Sure, it’s easy to condemn Tiger for his infidelity.  I, for one, have always felt “live-and-let-live.”  But in a profession like college coaching, the key to success, more than anything else, is recruiting.   Signing a player is basically akin to a conquest, e.g. “Only one of us could win and I’m the winner!  “Chasing skirt” is very similar, except there can be more than one winner, so it’s like R&R while a coach is on the road, i.e. it becomes an extension of the job, a perk if you will, while simply sharpening one’s persuasive skills.  I admit to participating - but only while I was single.

I waited until I was nearly 39 to get married - for a couple of reasons.  1) While I enjoyed the “dating” scene, I felt fidelity had to be a basic tenet of the institution of marriage.  (Plus, I always knew how crushed I would be if my mate wasn’t faithful to me and how I’d feel when I found about it).  2) All realtionships are built on trust, and infidelity is, pure and simple, violating that trust.  Nothing will destroy a relationship quicker than a violation of trust.

I have many friends who feel exactly as I do and, while not judging others, we have a phrase for those who cheat on their spouses (which will remain unspoken - or typed).  That said, I can’t condemn Tiger for doing what he did because, although I feel so strongly about this, I have never been subjected to the temptations that someone as rich, famous and attractive as Eldrick Woods.  (Maybe if he hadn’t gone with that Tiger nickname, the Eldrick part might have driven off some of those celebrity-bangers, paraphrasing Jacqueline Susann).  It’s easy to be self-righteous when there’s nothing keeping you from being that way.

However, I’m certain, if ever confronted with some superstar model pawing at me, I’d be able to walk the walk (or, more simply, walk away).  My major problem with Tiger (and all the Tigers of the world) is, you know you’re going to be pursued (and pretty much know you’re going to “accept,” so if you want that sort of life, go at it!  Just put off marriage.  Was Elin truly your dream girl, the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?  If so, you probably would have weighed future transgressions into your decision before you popped the question.

It’s just that these types want it all.  And they’re used to getting it all.  When my main man, John Savage (someone who came from a family of nine children - and who, along with his wife, Kate, raised nine of their own), would speak to companies and organizations (usually chock full of salesmen, i.e. others with the conquest mentality), he would say, “All you guys out there who are cheating on your wives, . . . you’re all frauds!”  This type of tough talk was so uncharacteristic of John, the first time I heard him, I was stunned.  Until I heard the follow-up statement:

“And if you disagree with me, I’ll be happy to debate it with you - on local TV - in YOUR neighborhood.”

Since I just recently blogged on #1 son, Andy, anyone who’s married (or has ever been married), knows (in the latter case, probably found out a little too late) in order to keep the household running smoothly, there’d better be a post on “the other white meat.”  Not sure that description doesn’t start me out in a hole, but it just seems to me that too many people are way too uptight today and there’s too little humor.  Even if it’s weak.

Last Saturday, Buchanan High’s basketball season tipped off at Newark Memorial HS.  One of the games was BHS vs. St. Patrick’s.  Our younger son, Alex, who has shot up to 6′3″, 185 is one of the starting guards for the Bears.  He finished last year on a strong note.  As a freshman, he became a starter who ended up averaging 14 ppg.  He was excited for his soph campaign to begin.

Only slightly more excited than his dad.  So, after my, by now, harrowing description of Thanksgiving week (in case you missed it, suffice to say there were several turkeys who had better a better week than I did - and they were the ones who got cooked!), you can only imagine how pumped I was to make the 2 1/2 trip to the coast to check out the season opener.

The night prior, my wife and I had been conversing (actually, I was rambling and she was trying to contain her fright at this wired fool in front of her).  I mentioned we’d probably leave at around 10:30 am for the 2:00 pm tipoff.  Jane casually mentioned, “Maybe you shouldn’t go tomorrow.”

Talk about hitting a hot button!  “What!  Do you think I’m missing Alex’s first game of the year?  You can stay home if you want, but this guy’s leaving tomorrow for Newark!”  

In our family, I’m a charter member in the Robert Young Fan Club, i.e. Father Knows Best.  In this case, ol’ padre might have known best, but when the body shuts down, it’s no longer an argument regarding knowledge, but reality.

Had I been airlifted to Newark, they still would have had to pour me in the gymnasium.  Bottom line: I didn’t go.  It seemed as though Buchanan needed another male member of our family a whole lot more than it did me and the Bears managed a victory.  Bittersweet moment: Not being there to see - as Chicago Bulls’ assistant coach for player development, Dave Severns, calls him - “The Lil’ Mex” get presented with Player of the Game Award.  For the story behind that nickname, order a copy of my book, Life’s A Joke (holiday price: $5, plus S&H) on this website.

As far as my physical well-being at that moment, anytime I feel that miserable (and by that I mean, a trip to the ER - where I’d been on T-giving Day), I think of my late, brilliant - and wealthy - mentor, John Savage, who was fond of saying:

“Money isn’t everything.  Health is 2%.”  �

Before I begin today’s blog, a note of thanks to loyal reader, Pete Vaz, who commented, correctly, that Michael Crabtree’s beef with the 49ers was over the #7 pick in the draft, the Raiders’ Darrius Heyward-Bey, a wide receiver taken before Crabtree, who claimed that he, and not Heyward-Bey, should have been the first wideout chosen and, therefore, commanded more money. I appreciate the valid criticism and welcome corrections from anyone.  Hey, if you’re going to do these things, you ought to be right.  I just hope there isn’t too much cause for it.  I, and yesterday’s blog, stand corrected.  

As far as today’s post, a friend of mine told me that he spent the better part of last weekend (laid up with an injury that kept him confined to bed) reading my archived blogs.  Obviously, he will remain nameless because he doesn’t want anyone to know he actually did that.  While I think it’s a compliment that he spent that much time pouring over my posts from as long as two and a half years ago, what a sad commentary it is on the state of his life.

Nevertheless, he told me he thoroughly enjoyed it and the time flew by.  He almost got me considering it, but I realized I had a few more pressing issues, so, although no one wants to be bed ridden, at least I know of another option in case the unthinkable occurs.  Come to think of it, maybe that’s what got him to recover so quickly because, to date, there’s no known cure for OD’ing on “Jack’s Blogs.”

In any case, what follows is a post from 5/30/07, nearly two years and four months ago to the date.  Incredibly, the blog is as relevant today as when I wrote it - and as well as when I first experienced this “I want to play and, although I’m not that talented, here’s why” mentality.    

The past two nights have taken me to awards dinners.  During each ceremony, I overheard a negative comment made toward an award recipient by a (jealous?) parent, relative, friend who thought their child, relative, friend would have been a more worthy recipient.  Supporting a friend or loved one is admirable, but cutting down the winner doesn’t make your favorite the better candidate.

Hearing these remarks took me back (I guess I’m at that point in life where everything tends to remind me of something in my past) to when I was a first year coach - 22 years old and fresh out of college.  I was coaching the junior varsity basketball team at my high school alma mater and we were really struggling.  What could have been a promising season was destroyed when the two best sophomores (a ball handling, scoring guard and a rebounding, scoring forward) were moved up to the varsity just before the season.  I was left with several role players, none of whom could serve in the roles I desperately needed, i.e. talented basketball players.

One day, one of our 16-year-old reserves approached me before practice and said, “Coach, can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure, Gary, fire away.” 

“Coach, I can’t understand why I’m not playing more.  Mark is playing ahead of me and, well, he isn’t a good ball handler, he isn’t a good shooter or passer, he isn’t a good rebounder and he isn’t a good defender.”  Suffice to say Gary wasn’t on Mark’s list of references.

I looked at Gary and said to him, as only a recent college graduate with next to no coaching experience or understanding of the close coach-to-player relationship, would say, “You’re right, Gary.  He’s not very good in any of those areas, but that’s not why you should play.  Those are all reasons why he shouldn’t play!  I’m not playing him over you because I like him better.  I’m playing him ahead of you because, as bad as he is, he’s better than you are!  We don’t need you to evaluate the guys on the team.  We need you to improve!”

The quote that fits this blog to a “T” is from my late mentor, John Savage, maybe the wisest, most down-to-earth person I’ve ever known.  John would often tell me, “You don’t strengthen the weak by weakening the strong.” (see 4/30 blog)

Another appropriate line worth remembering is:

“You’ll never get ahead of anyone as long as you’re trying to get even with them.”

In my 2/20/09 blog, I wrote that the number one most important aspect of yoga is breathing.  Most people do not breathe properly.  Their method is similar to that of a panting dog.  The proper method of breathing is to begin from your diaphragm, i.e. if you placed your hands on your stomach and began to breathe, your belly would be the first part of you to move.  The breath then travels north until the lungs are filled.

Early in my training, Katie Flinn-Gardner, yoga instructor extraordinaire, gave me the analogy of being in a fine restaurant.  She claimed, correctly, that you would slowly inhale the wonderful aromas - as opposed to aggressively snorting and trying to “consume” as much air as quickly as you possibly could.  That story reminded me of my childhood.  About a 1/2 mile from our house there was a bakery that smelled so good, there were days we’d walk in just for the aromatic experience.

It has taken a good deal of focused practice, but after eight months of yoga training, although my flexibility is only marginally better, I’ve become an expert breather.  Recently, however, I’ve been having breathing problems - which have elevated to the point of minor anxiety attacks.  Yesterday, I went to what’s become a second home for me - the Stanford Pain Management Clinic.  My trip was two-fold.

Naturally, one reason was to inform my doctor of these new, unwanted anxiety issues.  As always, she listened intently and then, diagnosed the problem and set up a strategy to eliminate it.  One thing about Stanford, just walking around there, you can feel the answers on campus and in the buildings.  It gives a patient confidence and hope - a pretty good duo for someone who lives with pain on a regular basis.

The other reason for the visit was to get a refill for the morphine pump I’ve had implanted in my abdomen since 2004.  As the physician’s assistant began the procedure, she first needed to aspirate the medicine that remained in the pump. weigh it (to insure it was functioning properly) and then, fill it with a new batch.  This has never been a particularly easy procedure (mainly because of where the port is located), but the last few trips have gone as smoothly as I could possibly had hoped.

This time, though, when she stuck the needle into the port, in addition to a sharp, little stick, I began to feel a little anxious and immediately reminded myself to concentrate on my breathing techniques so I would relax.  The PA then foiled my plan when she said, “Please don’t distend your stomach.  It makes it impossible to perform what I need to do.”

Uh oh, major problem.  I used to get reprimanded for my shallow, doggie-panting breathing and now, having to use that style (of not breathing properly) only served to increase my anxiety.  I started squirming, another unpopular idea when getting a morphine pump refilled.

Trying not to use my diaphragm breathing techniques made me a great deal more uncomfortable.  Being a math guy, I always revert to numbers to solve my problems.  I asked, “If I were to lie still, how much longer would this procedure take - a minute, two minutes, five?”

The physician’s assistant looked at me (this ordeal wasn’t exactly a day at the coast for her either) and said, “If you’ll keep still and not distend your stomach, I’ll be finished in 2-3 minutes.”

That was all I needed.  I closed my eyes and started to count backward - in as close to one second intervals as I could - from 150 (about 2 1/2 minutes).  This would keep my mind occupied and off of whatever evil thoughts that were making me freak.  When I heard her say she was done, I was still in the 60’s.

The best line I ever heard regarding breathing came by way of my long time mentor, the late, brilliant John Savage, who off-handedly told me one day (after seeing one of our Toledo basketball players get the wind knocked out of him at an open gym session - by the way, the name on the arena happens to be John F. Savage Hall):

“Breathing is something you never think about - until you can’t do it.  Then, it’s the ONLY thing you think about.”

  �

Former Secretary of State Colin Powell was a guest on Larry King Live last night and one of the questions the “King” asked him was whether he voted for Barack Obama because the Senator was black.

General Powell reminisced about his relationships with then-Senator Obama as well as the one he had with his “good friend of 30 years and fellow Vietnam veteran, John McCain.”  He said he weighed what he felt was each candidate’s philosophies, beliefs, platforms, strategies, plans (or whatever else a candidate has) for the United States and decided which man to support.

While he mentioned he had hoped race didn’t play a factor in his decision, there were a couple of things - one he said, and the other he didn’t - that made me skeptical.  I don’t pretend to be a voice specialist or an expert in body language, but I did detect a distinct hesitation in his voice (albeit brief) when he said race didn’t play a part.  Plus, later in the interview, he said that, on the night of the election, when he finally heard television reporters declare that Barack Obama was, in fact, going to be the country’s next president, he cried. Not that he shouldn’t have cried; that’s exactly what he, and the millions of African-Americans of his era, would be expected to do.  Yet, if his emotions were that strong, then quite possibly, race may have been more prominently on his mind than he’d realized at the time.

That interview reminded me of a story my late mentor, John Savage, used to tell when he said that people accused him of voting for John Kennedy because JFK was Catholic.  Savage always said:

“I did not vote for Kennedy because HE WAS CATHOLIC.  I voted for him because I’M Catholic.”  

Bill O’Reilly, on his way out of the country, took the time last night to speak out (on his own show) on a subject that is becoming all too familiar in our country: a political leader with the morals of a sewer rat.

O’Reilly, host of the #1 cable news show for the last 8 years (I’m not sure that O’Reilly doesn’t think the 8 ought to be on its side), was incensed that those from the left are, in his words, “celebrating” the downfall of South Carolina governor (for the time being), Mark Sanford.  This, from a person who, if he disagrees with you, calls you a “pinhead” on national television.  O’Reilly mentioned something to the fact that when former governor John Edwards fell off the fidelity wagon, conservatives may have criticized him, but none of them celebrated his indiscretion.  I was curious as to why BOR didn’t bring up that Monica girl and the guy who was president at that time and replay video footage of the comments made by him and his other fair and balanced colleagues.  Possibly he had put it behind him.

In what I initially thought was a moment of comic relief, he brought on one of the nation’s most kind-hearted human beings, a veritable saint, with a warmth toward his fellow man that few, if any other, member of this, or any other society, possesses.  Naturally, I’m speaking of Karl Rove.  In acknowledging Rove, O’Reilly said, “You’ve been (referred to) as a hatchet man by people who don’t like you.”  Now, how could someone not like an honest, above-board gentleman who, in an effort to help his man win an election, broke into the office of the competitor so he (Rove) could steal letterhead and then print up flyers, inviting people, i.e. voters to a (fictitious) party offering free drugs and prostitutes? A note of clarity: the actual word “prostitute” may not have been used - I mean, what kind of guy would do something so despicable - but there was no way anyone could not have understood the gist of the mesage.  Guess what?  His man won!  Good campaigning. 

O’Reilly went on with his introduction of this bastion of integrity (Rove) with what might be in the running for understatement of the year, “Politics is a rough business - you do what you’ve got to do to get your guy in.”  I can’t remember much after hearing that.  I was even less interested in hearing what Karl (with a K, like Marx) had to say. 

Then, Bernard Goldberg came on and admitted that he “used to be on that side.”  By that side, I think he meant both “left” and “wrong.”  He sounded extremely sure of his views, probably like he did when he was on “that side.”  Could Bernie have another change of heart some time in the near future and head back over?  He’ll say no way, just as he would have if he were asked oh so many years ago, but if the right numbers were proposed for a book deal, . . . well, everyone has his price.

One man who was on the receiving end of Goldberg’s wrath was Paul Begala, Democratic strategist (see one of my earliest blogs, 4/22/07 for a sensational perspective - mine - on political strategists) and member of the fivehead club - as in most people have a forehead, but Paul goes us all one better.  There was a film clip of Begala ranting over the apparent brain freeze of Sanford.  Yet, he, too, never mentioned Monica what’s-her-name.  Do all these guys suffer from selective memory?

John Savage, a name mentioned often on this website, was a brilliant man.  I learned more from him during the seven years I was honored to know him, than I did from 99% of others I’ve met (using a conservative estimate) throughout the years.  John used to speak to hundreds of insurance salespeople (his actual vocation) or to similar numbers when he was hired as an inspirational speaker.  His style was basic, down-to-earth (what all of us could only wish was) common sense.  

Occasionally, during a presentation, John would say, “You guys out there who are running around on your wives - you’re all frauds!”  This caught everyone’s attention mainly because it was so unlike John’s personality.  Then, once he had everyone’s attention (statements like that tend to earn the audience’s total focus), he’d wryly say, “And if you disagree with me, I’d be happy to debate it with you on local TV - in your hometown.”

This always brought a laugh, with some (usually those wiping their faces and necks) a tad more nervous than others, but it managed to get his point across.  John, who died in February of 1993, used to say a good motto was, “One wife, no girlfriends.”  Like I said, common sense. 

Lost in all of this sniping is the fact that a governor, for an extended period of time, was derelict in his duty, having left his office (not to mention his mind) and told no one where he was.  Hey, buddy, you’re in charge, and have the final say of, what happens in your state.  There are only 50 of your type in this nation and it’s a job that carries with it an extremely high degree of responsibility.  (And to think there were times people would say women couldn’t govern because of their inability to think straight when they were menstruating).  Come to think of it, wasn’t Sanford gone for about 4-5 days?

The knee jerk reaction of nearly all of these talk show hosts (because their livelihood is driven, not by what’s right or wrong, but by ratings), is to circle the wagons if the mistake is made “by one of ours” or attack, attack, attack if the blunder is made by someone on the other side.  How about discussing the right thing to do and what effect the mistake could have on the country?

Doesn’t this sound familiar?  Today, the “right” is absolutely tearing apart the current administration and how every decision that’s being made and every act that’s taken is heading the country into complete ruin.  But, where things so great before this administration took over - what - six months ago?  The country was going to hell in a hand basket when the “right” party was in power (according to the left).  Now that the worm’s turned, it’s the Republicans’ opportunity to complain.

The lesson to be learned is this: it’s far better to be the party out of power - because then, you can criticize and be as loud as you want.  The other side has to justify what they’re doing.  Many Americans will be on your side - those without jobs, houses and portfolios that are worth half of what they were.

This country has completely lost its sense of what it means to be a member of a team.  The motto has changed from, “There’s no I in team,” to “Yeah, but there’s a me in it.”  If only solving our unity problem was as easy as explaining the Sanford, Edwards, Spitzer, Clinton, (add in your favorite).  Those actions are easily explained by one of the best and brightest -Robin Williams - who observed:

“God gave man two heads, but only enough blood to operate one at a time.”  �