Jack’s Blog

Heading to Stanford for my tenth, yeah tenth, back surgery.  As I’ve shared, I currently have a pain pump implanted in my abdomen.  After years of enduring pain that, with this pump, I shouldn’t have, a dye study and an MRI showed the catheter that delivers the drug from the pump into my spinal canal was defective.  The surgery is to replace the catheter.  Maybe this is TMI but many of the people who check out this blog are friends and it’s a means of letting them know what’s going on in m life.

The blog will return when I do.  Probably next week.  Best wishes to all.

If anything can screw up something good, it’s a union.  Until I retired last June from teaching, I worked for ten years for one of the few school districts in which the teachers did not have a union.  There were instances where that fact hurt us teachers but I can’t think of any of my colleagues who felt we were missing anything, especially with the problems neighboring school districts had with their union.

Unions had their place in the nation’s history.  There was a time when their members needed to be protected and the unions provided what they needed.  In today’s climate, however, unions have mainly become antagonists.  It’s always us against them and there is seldom any good that comes from that mindset.

What’s remarkable is that a sport hell bent on making it safer for its players can’t get the people responsible for enforcing the rules in place to do so.  Not only that but the people on the field are obviously unqualified and way over their heads.  What hurts the replacement referees so much, beyond jumping so many necessary growth steps to get to the ultimate level of their profession, is the camera.

Or cameras.  There are so many of them that any miscue is caught and shown repeatedly.  The replacements have been wrong, embarrassingly so, time and again.  What we’ve forgotten, because the memory of the fan is a short one, is that the regular referees have been shown to be erroneous as well.  Definitely not nearly as much, but still, they get calls wrong.  Which is not surprising.  It’s a difficult game to officiate and, as I’ve said many times - of the three people who make up the game, i.e. players, coaches and referees - the refs make the fewest mistakes.

What is lost in this battle over, what else, money, is the safety of the players is going to be compromised.  I’m no labor negotiator, nor do I want to be. but, if the major concern of the NFL is player safety, the powers-that-be should have figured out a way 1) to either have solved this problem long before it got to this point or 2) to get the professional referees on the field while negotiations take place.

If an injury occurs due to “referee error,” the NFL and its referees will be branded as many think they already are - greedy.

Although I’ve used the quote on numerous occasions, it’s powerful here - especially with all that’s at stake:

“What’s right is more important than who’s right.”

Since it’s that time of year again, i.e. the start of college (and pro) football, I thought I’d reprint a blog I posted nearly five years ago to the day (8/30/07).  It rings as true as it did then.  But, then again, it probably was just as true fifty years ago.  See what you think.

When I was in the midst of my 30-year career in the world of intercollegiate coaching, I used to speak before booster groups and joke with the audience that one of the true bonuses of coaching in college was that I got to meet so many absolutely brilliant people.  Not only were they experts in their own field, but they could also do our football coach’s job, our basketball coach’s job, our athletic director’s job, - their talents were seemingly limitless.  Of course, many of these guys were very average in what they actually did for a living - and would be tremendously insulted if you ever even hinted at a way they could improve their business.

At the time, I wasn’t kidding.  When I first got to the University of Tennessee, our football team was struggling and I would hear from friends of mine how pitiful a job the football staff was doing and how they couldn’t believe we didn’t throw more, throw deep more, blitz more, fumble less - you get the idea - all strategical moves they would utilize if only the powers-that-be would wake up & give the reins to someone who really knew the game, someone who’d been watching football for the better part of 20 years (albeit from the 42nd row).

The coaches they were talking about were my colleagues and friends, yet they assumed I ought to be agreeing with every bit of their wisdom.  These people used to say all this to me as if I didn’t know that during basketball season, if we were to lose, I didn’t knw they’d be saying the same thing about our staff.

Suffice to say I’m somewhat sensitive regarding second guessers.  After you’ve been in meetings, practices, locker rooms and watched hundreds of hours of video, you find it hard to listen to someone who, not only thinks he’s an undiscovered genius, but who gets even brighter by the drink.  After 1:00 am, you’d think you were talking (listening) to Bill Walsh or John Wooden.

Now that I’m removed from the coaching wars and have been relegated to the role of fan, or even worse, parent, I can see a shred of truth in the criticism from outside sources.  Not that non-professionals understand the game better than those who spend their lives working at it do, but possibly something, sometime could be improved.  I probably knew it then, too, but when your defenses are up, you fight back.

The quote that wraps up this blog comes from the former director of USC’s Leadership Institute, Warren Bennis who said:

“Receptivity to criticism is as necessary as it is loathsome.  And the more valid the criticism, the more difficult it is to receive.”

Last (Saturday) night at Cholo’s Restaurant in Santa Monica, a group of twelve of us had a room for dinner and conversation.  Sometimes loud conversation.  Which is probably why management gave us our own room.

“Us” was a collection of 1990-91 and 1991-92 basketball players, managers and coaches from USC.  The reunion was organized by former point guard, Duane Cooper, the best leader I ever had the pleasure of coaching during a 30-year college career.  Coop was basically a 6-1 small forward in high school who made himself into a solid Division I PG, leading our 1991-92 Trojans squad to a 24-5 record, a top 10 ranking and a #2 seed in the Midwest.  He actually worked his way into the league after graduation, making the Los Angeles Lakers, then being traded to the Phoenix Suns a year later.  Shortly into that season, Elliott Perry, the Suns’ starter, got hurt, giving Coop what he’d waited for his entire life- a shot at being a starting NBA point guard.  He tore up his knee during that game, putting an end not only to his dream but his NBA career.

While he naturally was extremely disappointed, he refused to let this setback devastate him.  He was set to join a sports agency upon graduating from SC before becoming a pro, so after his brief stint in the “bigs,” he returned to his original plan.  I’ve had occasion to run into Coop a few times during the past couple decades and we’d reminisce about the magical season and other things Cardinal and Gold.  No one enjoys interacting with people more than Duane Cooper so it was no surprise when I received his text, informing me we were getting together for dinner.

First of all, if anyone knows anything about George Raveling, the head coach of those SC teams, any get together will be scheduled around food.  As always, the fare was plentiful and terrific with (also if you know anything about Rav) him picking up the check but it was the stories that made my three-and-a-half-hour (one way) trip worthwhile.  People say that as life goes on, the experiences of yesteryear become exaggerated.  No one in attendance last night could refute that statement.

Even though there were some misstatements and flat-out errors, everyone there enjoyed sharing memories and had a ton of laughs.  When a group of college age kids walked in sporting USC t-shirts, former shooting guard Dwayne Hackett called them over and welcomed them into the Trojan family.  All in our group but George and I were SC grads.  It was easy to see how much these kids (two guys, three girls) appreciated the brief recruiting pitch.  The “Trojan Family” is no myth.

What astounded us as coaches were the stories the players told, whether before and after practice, in the locker room or hotel room.  George and I looked at each other and realized we were completely ignorant of these goings on.  On the other hand, we regaled the guys with what Hack referred to as the “back story” - things that happened while they were on the team.  Stories like interactions with administrators or our real evaluations of them and their teammates’ skills.  The one common thread was the complimentary nature of all of us toward each other.

As William Shakespeare once said:

“There is flattery in friendship.” 

Today’s the day we take #2 son, Alex, to college.  He’s a freshman basketball player at Cal State Monterey Bay.  #1 son, Andy, graduated a couple years ago from UC-Irvine and is an account rep at Gramercy One, an IT and technological systems company.  I think.  I do know that’s the company, not sure what they do, but he is getting paid, enjoys the work and is having success.

Andy graduated in four years and got a job.  That’s the goal for any parents.  The major difference between sending Andy to college and shipping off Alex is, after today, my wife and I will be the sole inhabitants of our home.  Jane asked me yesterday, “Do you realize the last time it was just us in the house?”  I thought about it but really couldn’t remember.  I do know it was over 23 years ago.

It should be interesting though because this time, both of us will be retired, not in the middle of careers.  I retired from high school teaching in June and Jane will be finishing a looooooong career with the federal government at the end of the calendar year.  We’ve prepared for this moment by saving enough (we hope) to go along with each of our pensions and social security.

Most people who retire say they’re looking forward to travel.  Add us to that list although visiting places the United States will suffice for the immediate future.  Although I’ve been to every state in the country with the exception of  North Dakota, the reason for my being in them was purely due to basketball.  During my 30 year college coaching career, I’ve lived in nine different states.  The purpose of my travels were to coach, scout or recruit so sight seeing or enjoying the area weren’t of prime concern.  Jane, on the other hand, was born in Tennessee and didn’t move until we got married.  (Note: The four of us were born in four different states.)  She’s never been to New England, the Pacific Northwest and much of the Midwest so that will be on the bucket list.  In addition, both of us love Hawaii as a vacation destination.  I can imagine several trips there.

Jane’s in much better physical shape than I am, possibly due to her adherence to an exercise regimen for years and years.  My on and off workout program might have contributed to a bad back (I’m undergoing a tenth, and I hope, final, operation next Friday).  Exercise has been a part of my schedule on a daily basis.  Jane has been saying for years that when she retires, she’s going to get into cooking, a tough thing to do when working full time.  Great news for me as I’ve been into eating for quite a while.

What I’ve learned about retirement so far is:

“If you don’t want to do something, you don’t have to do it.  If do you want to do something, go after it.” 

Note: I’m going to a 20 year reunion dinner for the 1992 USC basketball team tomorrow night.  This blog should return Sunday.

Stan Van Gundy “occasionally” had his differences with the media.  Not surprising since Stan knew his craft well, certainly better than the people who covered him and his team.  Rumors abounded during his tenure as head coach of the Orlando Magic and it definitely rubbed him the wrong way.

Since the invention of the Internet, writing the game story isn’t enough.  Sportswriting has become a sport.  So many people are writing about the same team that writers are looking for the “story within the story,” i.e. the gossip.  I have to admit that my memory is not nearly as good as it was - from what I’m told, the result of reaching 60 plus - but I can’t remember the term “anonymous source” being used in sports stories - or any other stories for that matter - when I was growing up.

Possibly, I shouldn’t have been surprised when I read that Stan, on a radio show in Orlando, made the seemingly outrageous statement that Chicago Bulls’ superstar Derrick Rose might leave Chi-town.  Rose, a Chicago native and former #1 overall pick, signed a $50 million contract extension that keeps him from free agency until the summer of 2017 but Van Gundy said “the league has changed.”  While Stan said Rose is a great player and ambassador for the NBA, in today’s world guys want a chance to win it all and if Rose doesn’t get better players than his current supporting cast, he might be tempted to go to a team with that has a superior roster.

The turning point in the NBA came when the Boston Celtics obtained Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen to go along with their all-star Paul Pierce - and proceeded to win the championship.  LeBron James and Chris Bosh hooking up with Dwyane Wade took a couple years but won a title this past season.  Van Gundy cited Chris Paul leaving a bad roster in New Orleans for a better one, that he wants to improve even more, with the Los Angeles Clippers.  Add to that the recent transactions of Steve Nash and Van Gundy’s former stud Dwight Howard by the LA Lakers and you can see Stan’s point.

Basically, it comes down to winning - and winning it all - which ain’t easy.  As the saying goes:

“If winning was easy, losers would do it.”

The term “never a dull moment” applies to the world of teaching.  The interactions with students, parents and administrators often trumps the subject matter you’re attempting to get across to the youngsters.  It must be pointed out that there’s a difference between those who teach the upper level classes, i.e. honors and AP, and the poor guys (like me) who teach (taught) the general education classes - the classes that are mandatory for graduation.

Trying to get across information to kids who dislike the subject matter (especially when it’s math), have little innate ability for it and/or stubbornly refuse to put forth the effort can make for trying times.  During my tenth (and final) year in the classroom (not including my first two directly following my graduation from college), I encountered a boy who possessed the above trifecta.

Even though there was a meeting with him, his mother, his counselor and all of his teachers, he was determined to “do it his way.”  His way was putting him on the fast track to summer school.  Near the end of the term, he was more obstinate than usual, acting up in class and distracting others.

I said to him, “Do you plan on passing this class?”

“Yeah,” he said, his words dripping with insubordination.

Since he hadn’t done anything all semester, I asked him, “How, divine intervention?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, just as obnoxiously, but this time, with a hint of uncertainty in his voice since his vocabulary skills were a close match to those he had in math.

I did a double take.  “Really?  If you can work that out, you’ll have a steady business.  You might never have to work a day in your life.”

He had a confused look on his face, wondering if he hit the lottery or if I was putting him on - although this one time, I think he figured out the problem.  Sometimes the philosophy is:

“Don’t try to teach a pig to sing.  It wastes your time and it annoys the pig.”

The first day of school has come and gone.  This retirement thing is something I could get the hang of.  I reflected on the past ten years in the classroom - since I didn’t have anything else to do - and most of the thoughts were quite pleasant.  One that bothered me was a run-in I had with our learning director (LD).

Our high school had four learning directors, administrators over academic areas, e.g. one over English & social studies, one over math & science, one over foreign language & the arts, one over PE, special ed & vocational ed.  I’m not sure this is exactly how they were split up but you get the idea.  The district liked to move these people around.  In my ten years, our math department had five LDs.

Naturally, these were different individuals, with different personalities and, in some cases, different personal agendas.  One guy, in particular, started in education as a third grade teacher but, apparently, couldn’t handle the classroom.  So he got into administration.  His personal goal was to move up the “corporate ladder” by kissing up to the powers in the district office (DO).  One of the three main “commandments” of the DO was to make sure the parents didn’t get upset (state test scores and championships - athletics, mock trial, art shows, anything - are the other two).

At my orientation to teaching there were three sessions.  At each one, it was mentioned that “our parents are a very litigious group.”  When I heard it for the third time, I raised my hand and said, “I’m a parent in our district and I’ve never thought of suing anybody.”  The fact is that there is a very small percentage of parents who are looking to litigate.  And the DO is deathly afraid of them.

Just prior to the six-week grading period in my sixth or seventh year, I called the parents of each of the students I had who was failing.  I did so on my back patio on a Sunday afternoon.  At the time my phone kept only the last twelve calls I made.  On Monday our “I’m-on-the-fast-track-to-the-district-office-so-don’t-do-anything-to-sabotage-my-career” LD came into my room and told me the father of one of my students, a freshman girl, had called with a complaint.  The dad said his daughter told him I called their house Saturday night and asked if her parents were home.  When she said no, I kept her on the phone for 45 minutes.

I waited for the punch line.  Did he really think that’s what I did on Saturday nights?  Blew off my wife and two sons so I could call 15-year-old girls?  When I realized he was serious, I told him the real story.  I never call kids’ home phones primarily because I don’t want to talk to them, but to their parents.  The problem in this case was that the message on her father’s cell was that it didn’t accept calls, only made them while the message on her mom’s phone was that it was disconnected.  So I called her home phone and, sure enough, she answered.  I asked if either of her parents were home.  When she said neither was, I said it was Mr. Fertig and . . . my cell phone went dead.

I didn’t call back specifically because I knew the parents weren’t home.  I got my charger and finished the calls.  This girl’s last name started with T.  In front of “Mr. I’ll-throw-you-under-the-bus-without-even-thinking-about-it,” I checked my last twelve calls and, lucky me!, Ms. T’s was number twelve.  In other words, had I made one more call, I wouldn’t have any proof I didn’t call a freshman girl on a Saturday night.  When I showed the proof, i.e. the time of the call was 3:24 pm on Sunday, the LD actually said to me, “That’s good.  Keep that.  It will help if there’s a problem.”

I looked at him and said:

“You know, Darin, if anyone in the district office ever makes a sharp right turn, you’re going to break your nose.”

Sure it’s preseason but where’s the excitement?  So far the games have been played like they don’t mean anything but with full price tickets that shouldn’t be.  I don’t pay (or go) so maybe I shouldn’t care but with the shape the country’s in, there ought to be a little sympathy.  Whether it’s preseason football, politics, Wall Street or banking (I mean .01% interest on savings?), it seems screwing the public seems to be the nation’s true past time.

Football is currently undergoing a metamorphosis.  When I was growing up, it was controlled violence.  Sometimes uncontrolled violence.  I could be dating myself (since I just retired, that’s dating myself enough), but guys I remember watching as a kid were Sam Huff, Chuck Bednarik, Dick Butkus, Mike Ditka and Bobby Layne.  Polite wasn’t the word that came to mind.

The only problem was that, in an attempt to win games and please fans (because it certainly wasn’t salaries that drove them), these guys were causing themselves long term health problems.  Serious ones.  Today’s players union is balking at helping their predecessors the way they ought to be considering the money that’s available.  What the past has also shown us is that the reason the players of yesteryear have the problems they have is due to the manner in which they game was played.

As someone who played football in high school and college, the main issue - as I’ve said for the past ten years - is that the players are better than the equipment.  Sure, the equipment has always been substandard but strength and conditioning knowledge has improved exponentially so while the hit delivered by Ray Lewis looks the same as one by Jack Lambert, it’s probably two to three times worse on the body of whomever’s on the receiving end.

So the powers-that-be are violencing-down football.  Soon the old timers won’t recognize the game, if they are still physically fit enough to recognize anything.  Helmet-to-helmet hits aren’t allowed, hitting the quarterback nearly anywhere isn’t allowed, increased checking for concussions and more changes to reduce future medical problems are forthcoming.

Add to this the referees on strike.  The replacements are struggling badly.  I don’t begin to criticize their calls since they know the game better than I do but when a call is made and relayed to viewers, it’s got to be sold.  The guys I’ve heard sound like high student freshmen who afre answering a question about the homework they were supposed to have done but didn’t.

Football is by no means dead, or even dying.  Just changing, but doing so dramatically that today’s fan might look to other avenues for their entertainment dollar or time.  Baseball’s had its day but don’t look for it to return as America’s game.  As loyal reader Pete Vaz posted on Facebook, baseball’s all-time hits leader, all-time home run leader, all-time winningest (living) pitcher and current all-star game MVP have shamed, if not themselves, then certainly the game.  Plus, baseball isn’t “today” enough, as in video game speed and interest.

Basketball has been my favorite for 40 years now but it has its issues too.  This country’s not ready to adopt soccer.  It probably never will.  With as many brilliant people as there are in this nation, maybe somebody will invent a sport that’s fast-paced, exciting, competitive, fan friendly, has plenty of scoring and isn’t infected with people trying to make livings off of those who play it.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

By Monday, I’ll be officially retired from high school teaching.  Sure, I retired at the end of the school year but the past two months were no different than if I’d still been teaching.  Since Monday is the first official day of school, the time since last June 8 has been a “retirement orientation.”  Although there were no grades given, I feel I fulfilled all the requirements necessary for me to make a smooth transition in the “collect a pension check” world.

What hasn’t changed was my medical situation.  Last week I had a dye study to find out why the medicine in my (implanted) pain pump would flow through without problem, yet when the doctors needed to reverse the meds, the pain I incurred was excruciating and they couldn’t remove any of the medication.  I’m set for (a tenth) surgery on my back because the dye study showed the catheter to my pump was defective.

For reasons I don’t understand, an MRI was scheduled for this past Friday night at 7:30 (that’s why there was no blog yesterday).  First of all, who schedules an MRI on a Friday night?  Naturally, the procedure was to be done at Stanford, meaning a six-hour round trip (and a late arrival in Fresno).

I got there at 6:45 and checked in.  When asked if I had any implants, I said there was a pain pump in my abdomen.  The response was, “Make sure you tell the nurse.”  The nurse called me in and when I told her about the pump, she said, “Make sure you tell the technician.”  I saw the tech and told him.  He said, “Make sure you tell the radiologist.”

When I mentioned this to the radiologist, he said we couldn’t do the MRI.  I’d heard this before but came prepared with a hand-written letter (on Stanford letterhead) from my pain doctor.  Attached to it was nine (9) pages of information copied from the website of Medtronic, maker of the pump.  What the pages contained was that the newer pump I had (replaced a year ago) was one that would automatically turn off once the MRI started and would turn back on once I got out.

Unfortunately, the radiologist was unmoved by all this, claiming the letter stated someone from pain management would be happy to check out the pump following the MRI - and since it was Friday night, no one was there to assist.  I tried to explain the help was offered, not necessary.  None of my pleading, e.g. I had one before (in Fresno on December 6 according to my datebook and had a copy of it on a DVD) would sway him.  Things heated up quite a bit.  At one point I saw he was adamant about no MRI, meaning I had to drive three hours back to Fresno with nothing to show for it but an empty gas tank.

I looked him square in the eye, put my hand at my forehead and said, “I can tell you’re up to here with me about now but understand this - I’m two inches higher up than you are!”  It was then I realized that Reggie DuPee, the lead sales rep for Medtronic and former wide receiver for Oregon State (and, if memory serves me correctly, the NFL) had given me his cell phone number following one of my previous surgeries (he was present for nearly all of them).  It was 8:25 when I called and, of course, got voice mail.  However, Reggie returned the call shortly thereafter.  I tracked down the radiologist and gave my phone him.

The tech came into the room and said to get ready, we were going to do the MRI.  The radiologist said Reggie would be there in about an hour (the procedure was to take between 75-90 minutes).  I made it through the banging and other loud noises (why do some places give headphones and take requests for the type of music you’d like to hear?)

When I was rolled out, Reggie was there and “interrogated” the pump.  The radiologist, to his credit, told me he’d reserved a room at their campus hotel.  I told him I truly appreciated it but I’d rather drive at night, with little traffic and get home, than check in and return the next morning.  Around noon yesterday, the radiologist called to see that I made it home safely.  I once again thanked him and told him I arrived - at 3:00 am.

This entire encounter reminded of an old Three Stooges movie in which Moe slaps Larry.  Then Larry turns and slaps Curly.  Curly turns to slap the guy next to him and, lo and behold, there’s no one to slap.  As long as there was somebody the Stanford employee could say ok’d the MRI (desk clerk, nurse, technician), there was no problem.  But had something gone wrong, e.g. my pump didn’t function and I began writhing in pain, the last guy (the radiologist) was going to have some ’splainin’ to do.

Throughout my travels, I’ve found this is the leadership plan of many organizations.  I simply call it:

“Don’t be Curly.”

After getting caught using a banned substance, Melky Cabrera released a statement explaining the reason he failed the drug test. “My positive test was the result of my use of a substance I should not have used.”  That’s it, Melky?  His punishment is that he’s out for 50 games.  50 games!  Whether the Giants, in the thick of a pennant race, can overcome the loss of all the offensive production Cabrera gave them isn’t known but it’s certainly doubtful.

At first blush, his explanation comes off as a guy admitting his mistake and taking responsibility for it.  This is almost admirable until we stop and think that Cabrera, in full understanding of what the consequences were, made the conscious decision of doing what he knew was wrong.  He might have thrown away a long and profitable career.  Did he think MLB wasn’t going to test him?  The MVP of the All-Star Game?  Or did he realize he was putting up big numbers - in a free agency year - and, some major league club, in its desire to win, was surely going to offer a huge deal?

Most people are appalled at this type of behavior, calling it stupid and selfish.  Maybe we should withhold our opinion.  Those who are extremely close to Cabrera might know a different side of him.  I’ve learned that unless you’re very closely involved in a business or with a person, there’s probably a ton of information unknown to you that if you were privy to, would influence your feeling in a completely different manner.

That said, unless there is some underlying issue to the Melky Cabrera case, this is a young budding star who doesn’t get it.  As my man George Raveling used to tell us:

“Some people don’t know, and some people don’t know that they don’t know.”