Jack’s Blog

Many of the names occupying the sports pages recently have been old favorites, some still working, some looking for employment and some deciding that maybe now’s the time to hang ‘em up.

Lance Armstrong gave the two-wheeler one last shot and found it might be time to just make commercials - on a stationary bike.  Did he give the Tour de France one last go because he thought he could actually win it?  If anyone would know, it’s Lance - no one’s won that race more.  Or, was he trying to prove to his accusers he could, at his age, win it all, squash all speculation of PEDS, end in yellow, kiss girls (at the end of the race) and ride off into the sunset - in low gear?  Whatever, it didn’t end that way.

One “elderly” chap - a true fans’ favorite (as well as a popular guy among his peers), John Daly, turned heads at the course where golf was invented - at least according to the inhabitants there.  Ol’ JD sported some pants that made him impossible to ignore and his play spoke as loudly as his drawers.  If anyone was looking for a comeback story, St. Andrews was a good place to start.

St. Paul might be home to another comeback story.  Maybe it’s not a comeback tale as much as it is a never leave one.  Brett Favre looks like he’ll be in purple & gold again this season.  The only debate surrounding Favre is whether he needs the additional time to heal or whether he’s just trying to avoid training camp.  Who cares?  His job is one where he is pampered nearly every day of his working life - except for the one day a week he poses as a human pinata.  If you think his decision is nerve-racking, how would you like to be his backup?

Another pigskin prodigy (or is the term pigheaded) is Terrell Owens.  He claims he is ready to play and, love him or hate him, one thing that’s never in question is his body.  If no one picks him up (which would be for a variety of reasons, all non-talent related), he ought to forget reality TV - in which he displays a very spoiled, hate-able side - and head up America’s War on Obesity.  Have those kids follow TO around and they’ll be in shape in no time.  What else they’ll become is another matter.

Another old warrior - and reality TV star - looking for work is Shaquille O’Neal.  He might be encountering some of the same issues TO is.  A talented guy who grabs more attention that his current ability warrants, Shaq has a couple of problems to deal with that Owens doesn’t - due to the demands of his sport.  While TO is still a serviceable wide receiver (although certainly not as prolific as he once was), Shaq has been exposed in recent years as a defensive liability anywhere outside of 15′ from the basket (especially in Cleveland), as someone a running team would have to wait for on offense (Phoenix) and a player a coach would rather not have on the floor at the end of a game if the team had a lead (everywhere).  Plus, the money he’s asking (demanding, begging) for might outprice him in the current market. 

Why is it guys seem to want to hang on so much longer?  The adulation can’t be the sole answer since many outstay their welcome and boos become more dominant that cheers at this stage of their career.  For my money - which ain’t much - the reason is that the key to a successful job is:

“Find something you love to do and get somebody to pay you to do it.”

Reality television is the rage of the national viewing audience - and, until now, I haven’t found one that did much for me.  I’m an old-timer in that sitcoms - the good ones (Seinfeld, Friends, Everybody Loves Raymond), not the “let’s find a semi-star, throw in some bathroom humor and call it comedy” and dramas (CSI, Law & Order, House) fit my style.  Since we don’t get HBO, I’d have to wait for hotel television to watch Entourage. Believe it or not, and many who know me will not, I never saw a complete episode of The Sopranos - a fact that even astounds me.  And, of course, sporting events (lead by reporting of those events, i.e. SportsCenter) were all of interest.  College basketball, college football, the NBA Playoffs, the NFL and more and more rarely, MLB (including the World Series) - in that order - took up parts of my days, especially when I had math tests to grade.

That said, I really haven’t watched that much television, as, other than Seinfeld and SportsCenter, none of the others were on my must-see TV diet.  As I age, watching CNN and Fox News (might as well listen to both side’s propaganda) allow me to stay somewhat current.

When reality television took over the airways, the tube became less and less a part of my life.  Then something startling happened.  When I walked into the family room, younger son Alex had a show on that looked intriguing.  It was called Shaq vs.

Apparently, Shaquille O’Neal, as he nears the end of a Hall-of-Fame career, travels the country and challenges superstars from other sports to a contest - in the superstar’s sport.  To make the “playing field” somewhat level, Shaq is given an advantage.  Since this was the first time either Alex or I had seen this show, we weren’t sure if any others had been aired, but there was mention of Shaq vs. players in baseball (I do remember Albert Pujols was the baseball player and the challenge was to be a home run hitting contest), football, boxing and beach volleyball.

Last night’s challenge was swimming vs. (who else) Michael Phelps.  There were three parts: a race in which Shaq swam 25 yards (or do they use meters in this country now?) while Michael had to swim 50 yards (with Phelps getting a five-second head start), an IM relay - with Michael swimming all the legs and Shaq only swimming the anchor free style - after three of the top U.S. Olympic women swam their specialties in the butterfly, back and breast strokes and the finale - Shaq going down-and-back (50 yards meters units) while Phelps had to swim 75 (of the same unit).

Shaq took the first one, Phelps the next two.  Each was extremely close - just as the network had hoped it would be.  The bet: if Shaq prevailed, Michael Phelps had to look in the camera and say Shaq was the greatest (evidently, that’s enough of an award for The Diesel); if Michael won, Shaq had to wear a pink cap and perform synchronized swimming. Shaq’s being so uninhibited is one thing that makes the show work, e.g. he had absolutely no problem donning the pink cap and getting in the pool with the girls (although we never got to see his expertise in that event).   

While I always thought that Shaq was a little too much a showman as a basketball player (on the court and off), mugging for the camera every chance he got and being a little too much of a self-promoter, there certainly was no denying his dominance.  I recall a conversation I had with Eddie Fogler when he was coaching at South Carolina and he told me how intimidating it was watching him warm up before a game (in front of the visitor’s bench).  Years later, I met Shaq when the movie Blue Chips was filmed on the USC campus where I was working.  Having spent 30 years in D-I basketball, I’m not awed by “tall people,” but this cat is another type of animal altogether.  And finally, there was a dinner date I had with Doc Rivers (how much name-dropping can a guy do in one paragraph, for crying out loud!) in which we discussed who was the most dominant NBA player.  At the time, Doc was the head coach of the Orlando Magic.  My vote was for Shaq, claiming that as long as the basket was 10′ in the air, size was a major factor.  Doc’s choice, even back then, was a young guy named Kobe something or other.  Now I know why they call him “Doc.”

Despite the fact I always felt Shaq could have done more had he been more focused on his job than himself, that’s the exact characteristic that makes this show so successful.  It’s the hype, the trash talking (which Phelps never would participate in, irking Shaq - to the point that he commented how it was impossible to get “into his head”), the “props” he gives, and sincere admiration he has for, his competitor added to all the ancillary parts of the hour-long show that make it worthwhile viewing.  There was the trip to the Boys & Girls Club, dinner in a restaurant with a little back and forth banter and all the gyrations and off the cuff remarks Shaq makes. 

He is a born showman and not only does this show give him a stage to show off his athletic skills (which for a guy his size, are off-the-charts fabulous, but it gives him a chance to ad lib (and if it’s not ad libbed, the producers do a good job making it seem that way).  An example: when Phelps asks Shaq a technical question about swimming, the big fella retorts, “As Einstein said, ‘If you can access it, there’s no need to memorize it.’ “  An excellent comeback by a guy who’s obviously not only bigger and more highly skilled than his NBA brothers, but a heckuva lot brighter too.

The entire show was quite entertaining and with America’s fixation on its sports’ heroes, it more likely than not will catch on.  At least, it will serve as a transition job between the time Shaq decides to retire from pro hoops and join the police force (somewhere).  Many people feel Shaq is so big because no one could fit all that bluster into a normal sized body.  In terms of seeking adventure, he’s much like his mentor at LSU, another guy who knew the value of bulbluster, Dale Brown.  And like Dale, Shaq’s mantra sounds like that of a woman named Rosalyn Yalow (paraphrased in parenthses to make it more applicable to the guys):

“The excitement of learning (experimenting) separates youth from old age.  As long as you’re learning (experimenting), you’re not old.” �

Back when “Jack’s Blogs” was in its infancy, I posted a entry entitled: The Best Way to a Person’s Heart Is Through Their…Kids.  It was a follow-up piece to the blog I had done on parenting - and how difficult, yet rewarding it was.

Here we are, more than two years later, and problems on the parenting front seem to have magnified.  Several of our sons’ friends (especially the elder’s, i.e. the 20-year-olds) have had a tough time - I guess the best way to explain it is - dealing with life, and have either made some bad choices, or are on the precipice of serious danger.

I don’t mean to make it sound like our family’s day-to-day travails will ever be equated to the pollyanna scripts of Ozzie & Harriet, Father’s Knows Best or Leave It to Beaver (nor will it, thankfully, be on a par with Keeping Up with the Kardashians).  Parenting is a vocation - and don’t for one minute think it’s not a job because it is - a job to embrace, but, nevertheless, one that is to be constantly worked on.  It’s also a profession in which anyone who’s never done it should ever be critical.  And if you are a parent, you ought to know better than to criticize any of your “peers.” 

However, if a person wanted to get on someone’s good side, my two-year old blog still rings true.  Read it again - or, since, at the time it was originally written, I was getting a mere fraction of the viewers I am now - for the first time, and I’m betting you’ll wholeheartedly agree.  Here’s my post from May 24, 2007:  

If you really want to get on someone’s good side, just compliment their children.  In my blog on 5/4(/07), I stated that your real legacy is your kids.  No matter how much money you make or what possessions you end up with, outside of curing a disease or inventing something vital to humankind, people will look at your children and, if they’re law abiding, productive citizens, the reflection on you will be magified a thousandfold. Same thing, but of the complete opposite opinion, if they’re menaces to or drains on society.

Think about how you feel if someone says something positive about your child(ren).  First, you can’t wait to retell the story, whether it’s to your spouse, neighbor, friend, pastor or pretty much anybody who’ll listen.  Then, the glow you feel lasts for days and the memory alone elicits a smile even if it’s weeks from the time you heard the compliment.  

In short, the kind words give you a feeling of importance and, as many a “people person” has come to learn:

“The number one people skill is the ability to make people feel important.”�

After reading of the exploits of South Carolina’s (for now) governor, Mark Sanford, at first I thought the subject was Fred Sanford - except for the fact that the star of Sanford & Son used to deal with much more believable scripts.  I guess we now understand why reality TV shows have replaced sitcoms.

It would take someone really gullible to ever fall for a storyline in which one of our country’s 50 governors would leave his post - and state - without letting anyone on his staff know of his whereabouts.  In fact, Sanford (the sleazy one, not the fictional con who owns a junk yard - with apologies to all the law-abiding, faithful men who comprise the latter group) did inform some workers who were on the state’s payroll, that he was on a hiking expedition in the Applachian Mountains - which, ironically, might wind up being a self-fulfilling prophecy if the people of South Carolina (including his wife and sons) tell him to “take a hike.”

Either his government-issued compass was defective or his moral one was, as he somehow, ended up in Argentina, inspecting, not the landscape of the North Carolina’s mountain range, but the mountains and valley of his South American concubine soul mate. It’s common knowledge when a man is caught in a tryst, his best defense is, “Deny, deny, deny.”  This strategy seems nothing short of brilliant when compared to Sanford’s explanation, which he gave (in one press conference): he met his soul mate, apologized for all the other times he “crossed the (faithful vs. infidelity) line, thinks he can reconcile with his wife and sons AND, get this, still perform the day-to-day duties of the position of governor of South Carolina!  Talk about a guy with both a strong work ethic and an incredible vision.  If none of the above fly, he can always turn to what’s become the standard line of work for someone in his dilemma: write a soul-cleansing, How Not To book. 

If the people of the Palmetto State really think someone so morally bankrupt can effectively lead their state, they must believe government bailouts refer to matters of the heart as well as those of the pocketbook.  Governor Sanford (it still sounds like an oxymoron, with the “Governor” part standing for “oxy” and . . . ) initially stated he would release his financial records to show he hadn’t used taxpayer money to finance the trips, but, in the one and only moment of sound reasoning he’s shown since this entire sordid mess began, reneged on his promise.  Now, that sounds more like the kind of politician voters place in office.

Did he think by showing his financial statement that, although he was someone with the character of an underground rodent, at least he would never consider violating the trust his constituents assigned him by spending taxpayers’ money on an illicit affair?  What kind of guy would perform such a despicable act - on his voters’ dime(s)?  If that story were to get out, the effects it would have on, say, tourism, could really give the state some unwanted negative publicity.  “Oh, I don’t know if we can make our annual pilgrimage to Kiawah Island after what that naughty governor did, dear”  

Then, however, he realized he was in somewhat of a jam.  If he didn’t spend the state’s money, then it meant he would have laid out his family’s dough.  How to explain that to the little woman and the boys?  It just seems that anytime any of us get caught up in a web of lies and deception, Albert Camus’ line still rings true:

“Integrity has no need of rules.” �

I pride myself on continual learning, whether it be through reading, listening to audio books or, maybe even attending a seminar.  So when I realized I was watching television and I was switching back and forth between America’s Best Dance Crew and the Olympics 4 x 100 relays for the men and women (having already been told by my friend in the Midwest that the Americans had dropped the baton in each race), I knew it was time for my re-entry into the world of academia.

I fully understand that the question “Who’s the better dance crew - SoReal Cru or Super Cr3w? (actual spellings) - will be debated well into the wee hours of the morning -assuming any of these dancers/judges/fans are in their right minds at that time (giving them the benefit of the doubt that they’re actually in their right minds during the show.  One of the misspelled groups (it’s shocking I’m unsure of which group it was) was being interviewed and not one of the members had a hat straight on his or her head.  Arguably (but not by much), the greatest sportswriter of all-time, Jim Murray, once wrote, “Every time I see somebody with his hat on backward I think his brain must be the same way.”  If Jim were alive today, he might have softened his stance somewhat, although in this particular case, there’d be no need.  I’d give rather large odds his evaluation was “spot on.”

Actually, I wasn’t watching the Olympics to see the runners drop the baton (I have too much feeling for people who work so hard for four years and lose their dreams in an instant).  It was just what was on.  (I’m certain if I’d surfed further, I’d have found reruns of Family Guy or Southpark, two shows separating our youth from that of other countries - countries whose goal it is to pride themselves on what their next generation accomplishes). 

School starts on Monday and not a moment too soon.  I’m worried my son is going to start wearing his hat backward.  It’s bad enough his pants sag below “the equator.”

Each school year, as we start classes, I’ll tell the students the same line which, by now, is probably referred to as my mantra:

“The difference between humans and all other forms of living things is the ability to think.” �

As most people (certainly avid television viewers) are aware, reality shows are the absolute rage in the country right now.  I’m not talking about the ultra-popular programs like The Amazing Race or The Biggest Loser, but even the more obscure shows such as Newport Harbor (where they pick a person or a few people and just start following them around with a camera, documenting their everyday moves). 

You may be asking yourself, “What’s a near 60-year-old doing watching - or even knowing - about a teenage reality program?”  I’d be asking that same question to someone my age if I hadn’t had a recent high school graduate living under my roof this past summer and watched him, on a daily basis, park his body in a horizontal position on the couch and simply be enthralled watching other people live their lives.  Granted, the kids chosen were of the “beautiful people” variety, but watching other people live while you could be doing something productive - like getting a post-basketball season       J-O-B, which took months to land only to end prematurely due to an injury sustained in July - and which subsequently put our boy, Andy, back on the couch full-time. 

Sure, we used to do the same thing growing up - remember Ozzie & Harriet?  There was a family that had serious chutzpah.  “Hey, Harriet, let’s have people film us doing what we do day-to-day.  The pay will be OK, but think of the residuals.”  Good move, Oz, this was before 401K’s and 403B’s and Ozzie’s job in the show is one of the great trivia questions ever (he did nothing).  Yet life came to a screeching halt when O&H came on. 

Remember the Stephen Covey quote (see 5/5 blog) about judging others?  What seemed to us to be wholesome family entertainment back in the day took a dramatic turn once we passed 50 (or was it 40 - who can remember that far back anyway?)  Besides, although Ozzie would blush at what’s being shown on TV now, anybody with an imagination knew what Ricky was doing off camera probably rivaled, if not exceeded, what they show at Newport Beach.

Fast forward to today.  Our reality-watching high school graduate is a freshman at UC-Irvine, a stone’s throw from Newport.  Was his college choice a coincidence?  I think not.  Well, he came home this weekend for the first time since we moved him into his OC address.  The academic advisor at UCI recommended that incoming freshmen take 12 credit hours the first semester in order to get acclimated to college life and all that it entails.  It was okay with my wife and me, mainly because Andy already had 16 credit hours from high school AP classes (and tests) he took (and passed).

So his schedule is three courses, none of which starts before 9:30am, with his hardest days consisting of attending two classes, capped off by Friday when he goes to school from 10:00-10:30am.  He’s already pledged a fraternity (SAE) and hasn’t missed either a class nor a party since September.

Frequent readers of this blog notice that each one ends with a “wrap-up” type quote.  When my wife, Jane, kiddingly asked her obviously elated-with-his-new-life son if anybody was carrying a camera and following him around to preserve for all-time this perfect life, Andy, in typical Fertig fashion slyly grinned and said:

“No, but they ought to be.”  �