NaBloPoMo 2010 Day 17 -- Team Party & K-Man's Awesome Prayer

Tonight we had Keegan's end-of-the-year soccer party. Team United had a good season. A team mostly of first-time players had their ups and downs (and by that, I mean that it was good the under-6 league doesn't keep score, because some of our kids probably can't count high enough to keep track of the goals scored on us). But as the year went on, we saw improvement from the boys and girls on the team (of course, even in the last game, there were still occasions where I had to remind the kids to kick the ball in the other direction because we don't want to help the other team score more goals on us).

It was a great outlet for Kee's endless energy levels. I cannot wait until he figures out how athletic and fast he is. For now, he spends more time watching his shadow run alongside him. Which -- I tell myself -- is just fine. His day will come.

The party was at Stevi B's Pizza Buffet. But most of the kids couldn't wait until we unleashed them on the game room. Love of skeeball knows no age apparently. If there are pink tickets to be collected and turned in for cheap plastic toys made in China that will get lost under a bed, thrown out by a parent, and cried over when their absence is stumbled upon, kids under 6 will go berserk for them! At least they did tonight.

Such a situation is perfect for a K-Man meltdown too. And tonight did not disappoint. Because once the tokens for skeeball run out, Kee begins the negotiation for more "moneys" for more tokens. That usually amounts to another dollar (have you seen the kid's eyes staring up at you asking for more "moneys?" You'd cave too! Don't judge me.) But once those tokens run out, Kee begins round 2 of negotiations, but this is where I walk away from the table. He becomes insistent. I remind him that I told him the last dollar was the "last dollar." He then cries. Which has no impact on me. Once the waterworks start, the kid's cuteness loses its effect on me.

When we left the restaurant, we let Keegan know about our disappointment in his behavior. He made "bad choices." ("Bad choices" is parent-speak for "you screwed up kid" but you can't really say that to a kid, because he'll repeat it to a teacher or someone in authority and then yesterday's post about possibly fostering kids becomes a moot point.)

When we got home, after a quick bath, it was time for K-Man to hit the hay. We said our prayers, and I asked Keegan to ask God to forgive him for making bad choices tonight. And these were the first words out of his mouth: "Hey Jesus ...."

If I'd had a mouthful of water, the kid would've needed a towel to dry off from the spit-take.

"Hey Jesus, please forgive me for making bad choices."

"Hey Jesus, thank you for bringing that kid into our lives!"

NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 21 -- NAIA playoffs report

So I drove the nearly 4 hours to Pulaski, Tennessee today for the NAIA playoff match between Asbury College and the home team, Martin Methodist College. The drive was a pleasant one, although it would've been spectacular three weeks ago before the leaves fell from the trees.

I arrived about 10 minutes before kick-off -- having learned late that the NAIA had moved the start time up 2 hours. The weather was comfortable: partly sunny with some wispy clouds ribboning the pale blue sky.

The game started quickly for Asbury, with freshman Rebecca Batey putting the visitors on top in the 4th minute on a breakaway. Batey calmly slotting the ball past the MMC keeper. My first thought was that the Eagles scored a little too quickly. But it did seem to settle the women down and confirm that they could play with the 2-time NAIA champs (2005 and 2007).

After the quick start, I took a minute to look at my program, and by "program" I mean the 2 pieces of paper that had the team rosters and team season statistics listed. The thing that jumped out to me right away was that MMC's roster of 23 players included 12 women who were not from the United States. Then, I looked on the field and started matching shirt numbers with names and countries on the roster sheet. All 11 MMC starters were foreign-born. Asbury has one non-U.S. player on the roster, and she's from Canada (a well-known soccer hotbed).

After absorbing the initial blow from Asbury, MMC started to maintain possession of the ball and dictate play a bit. The quality of the MMC players also emerged. MMC equalized in the 16th minute on a corner kick. Poor marking resulted in a powerful header that skimmed off the keeper's hand and cross bar back to another unmarked MMC player to tidy up.

A mere 4 minutes later, MMC went ahead 2-1 in transition showcasing speed and skill. Within another 10 minutes, the home team went up 3-1 on a corner kick doomed by more poor marking. It was clear at half-time that MMC was the more physical squad and were wearing down the Eagles.

The second half was a better half for Asbury, but they did concede a final goal on a free kick in the 70th minute. The kick, from about 25-yards out just to the right of center was taken well. The shot rose and fell into the far left corner. The strike reminded me of many shots I've seem Cristiano Ronaldo take for Manchester United and Real Madrid. Cristiano would've been proud of this one for a couple of reasons: (1) the technique was spot on; and (2) the MMC player was a fellow Portuguese countrymen.

For the rest of the match, the Eagles did a good job playing an offsides trap to foil a number of goal chances for MMC. They sprinkled in a couple of breakaway attempts of their own, but the Martin Methodist squad was never in danger. The final whistle saw the result 4-1 in MMC's favor.

The match is a great stepping stone for the Asbury women's program. This was an eye-opener in many ways. The women now know what it will take to compete at this level. I trust it will push them in the off-season and push them throughout next season as well. They know they need to increase their fitness, their technique, their intensity, and their physicality. I'm excited to see how they respond next year.

But I'm left wondering about the climate in NAIA soccer. The make-up of the MMC team -- especially the starting XI -- is typical of the better teams in the NAIA. Unlike the NCAA, there is no clearinghouse to evaluate the eligibility of the foreign players. If you look at the best men's and women's teams in the NAIA, you will see as many or more non-U.S. players on those squads. This situation has been building since I last played in college. In 1991, Lindsey Wilson was just starting to build its program, but they were doing it with foreign players. At the time, I enjoyed the challenge those players brought, but to say that it has gotten out of hand is an understatement.

Without a clearinghouse, the NAIA teams who want to can field teams of foreign players who may have played in semi-pro situations overseas -- something that the NCAA would never allow. In fact, the NCAA has been known to disallow players who were not paid but who played on club teams with other players who were. I am encouraged to hear that the NAIA will be introducing a clearinghouse that, hopefully, will level the playing field a bit more.

NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 20 -- NAIA women's soccer tournament

On Saturday, the women's soccer team from Asbury College plays in its first NAIA playoff match. This day has been a long time coming. Asbury has won the regular season and conference tournament for four years running in the Kentucky Intercollegiate Athletic Conference (KIAC). However, this is the first year that the KIAC has had enough teams for the winner of the tournament to receive an automatic bid to the NAIAs.

Asbury's coach, Paul Nesselroade, was awarded the conference coach of the year following the team's 14-6

season, including 10 straight wins to this point. Coach Nesselroade takes his squad to Pulaski, Tennessee to face the #7 seed team from Martin Methodist College on Saturday. Nesselroade has been building the program for seven seasons to get to this point. The Eagles senior class has won over 50 games during their time on campus and have worked hard to get to this point. I fully expect their commitment to serve as the foundation of success for years to come.

NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 19 -- Irish Eyes Are Crying

The World Cup is in South Africa next summer (well, it'll be summer in the northern hemisphere anyway). On Wednesday, the last major group of teams qualified for the tournament. One match that has received a considerable amount of attention is the match between France and Ireland. It was actually the second match between the nations. They played two games, and the first one was in Ireland. The French won that match on Saturday 1-0. In Wednesday's match in Paris, the Irish captain, Robbie Keane, put his squad up 1-0. In the world of international football (i.e., soccer), that meant that the teams were tied 1-1 on aggregate with both teams having an away goal. At the end of the full 90 minutes, the teams went to overtime.

Overtime in these matches is two 15-minute halves, and they are not sudden death. Just before the end of the first half of overtime, France scored a goal to tie the match 1-1 (and go up 2-1 on aggregate). But as you can see in the clip below, Thierry Henry, the France captain yesterday, handled the ball -- twice -- before he passed it to William Gallas to head in from about 2 feet away. Anyone who's ever played soccer knows that only the goalkeeper can touch the ball with his hands.

Everyone on the Irish team saw the handball. The Irish coach saw the handball. Henry admitted after the match that he handled the ball. But somehow, the referee and the linesman missed the whole thing. From the replay, it does look like the ref was shielded by the Irish defender covering Henry, but the linesman looks to have a clear view of Henry from the other side of the field. I'm not an advocate of the conspiracy theories running around, but it is very odd.

There are many in Ireland and around the world calling for a replay of the match to make it fair, but even if you take away Gallas's goal, the score was 1-1, and there was another half of overtime to go. France could've scored in the second half. A tied result at the end of overtime would've led to penalty kicks to decide the winner. I'll take France at home in any such shoot-out. It's an unfortunate end to the match, but it's not the first time a handball has played a huge part of an important international match -- Diego Maradona's "Hand of God" goal comes to mind from the 1986 World Cup. Perhaps the Irish fans shouldn't have enjoyed that Argentina victory over England so much. (Soccer karma perhaps?)

NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 6 -- Who says soccer's not a contact sport?

Many of you have probably seen the video clip of the Mountain West Conference women's semi-finals soccer match between New Mexico and BYU. A New Mexico defender takes physical play to a completely new level. You want your central defenders to be tough and to play a physical brand of soccer. And I can sympathize with the New Mexico player as this back and forth starts. She is marking a BYU forward who gives her an elbow in the chest. This obviously does not sit well with the defender. Her mistake is that she rares back and punches the forward in the top of her back. The situation clearly calls for a forearm in the lower back -- a strike that says "I won't be pushed around by you BYU forward." Message delivered. But no, rather than standing up to the opponent and moving on, the punch to the back is just the appetizer of a 10-course meal of violence. No white table cloths at this affair either. This is like a torch-lit Viking buffet of slabs of meat -- killed and skinned table-side -- and casks of ale. Not exactly fine dining.

For those of you who haven't seen the video of Thursday's match yet or those who can't see it enough times, here it is again:

I was asked today if I ever had my hair pulled like that in a match. I had hair that long in the late-80s, but I never pulled it back in a pony tail. The mullet was sufficient. But no one ever pulled the mullet. (Why would they? At 5'8" no one ever mistook me for Samson.) Plenty of elbows in the sides and back throughout my play in high school and college. I can identify with the emotion that this New Mexico player obviously felt the other day. Not justifying anything she did, but the game gets heated if you care at all about your performance and your team's performance. Emotions can get the best of you from time to time. One particular instance comes to mind when I was a sophomore in college. We were playing our homecoming match. I was playing in the midfield on the wing. An opposing midfielder knocked me down as we were fighting for a ball by the sideline. Then, he stood over me and/or said something unkind. As fast as my shoulder blades hit the ground, I popped back up. In one motion, I stood up and shoved him in the chest knocking him on his back and stood over him. My Old Testament approach got me a yellow card. (The stereotype that the Irish have short fuses is probably based on thousands of similar incidents in towns on both sides of the Atlantic. At least mine didn't take place in a bar in Dublin or South Boston!)

NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 3 -- Nearing the end

So I played some softball tonight. We've played in the fall and the spring for several years now (except for the one season the manager forgot to send in the registration on time). I enjoy playing. We're in the playoffs. Usually, we'd be done by now, but the weather has not cooperated on a number of Tuesday nights this fall. We won the first game tonight and lost the second. The second time in the double-elimination playoffs that we've had to do this. I've learned something over the course of the 2 doubleheaders this season. I am really getting old. Not only does my body not want to play two games in one night, but it makes me pay the next two days following. So I am not looking forward to the pain I will be in tomorrow and Thursday (over-the-counter pain relievers only go so far!).

Not only was tonight the last softball game of the season, but it was also the last one I'll play in my 30s. By the time the spring season rolls around, I will have crossed that threshold of the big 4-0. "They" say that 40 is the new 30. But I remember when I was 30. I was still playing 90-minute soccer matches then. These softball games last an hour, and one hour leads to a day-and-a-half recovery that I never had at 30 after soccer. So "they" are liars!

I don't have any real issues with the prospect of turning 40. I know my body has issues with it, but my mind likes to think that I am still 18 at times. (I'm not proud of that necessarily, but at least something in me is trying to defy the passage of time.)

At 40, I'll have a 4-year-old. When my Dad was 40, I was graduating from high school. I think that is just the era we live in. I know so many parents who are older. In fact, I went to K-Man's fall party last week at school, and the majority of the parents in the room would remember the 70s and 80s from personal experience, not from the History Channel or some decades music special on VH1. (In fact, they know that the "VH" in VH1 stands for "Video Hits" and that the channel once played videos 24-7.) Many times at Kee's activities, I am more surprised when the parents are in their 20s. All that to say that I think K-Man is helping keep us young. Even when my body may want to rebel, I can push through it to watch him enjoy himself with some activity.

So I may be nearing the end of my 30s, but I ain't dead yet!

Catching up with K-Man

Keegan is growing like a weed. He no longer resembles the baby he once was. His legs seem to get longer and leaner every day. We walked up to the Jonquil Festival today with Kee in the stroller, and his legs were practically hanging off the front. Thursday night Kee's school had an art show, and we were treated to Kee's interpretation of a pig and a pumpkin. Clearly, he is not wedded to the realism of Winslow Homer. But his enthusiasm comes through nonetheless.

K-man's athletic interests continue. He bounces from the basketball hoop to the tee-ball set and back again. Jen's parents were in town this week and picked up a small soccer ball for him too, so we'll be able to work on some kicking too.

Keegan has also treated us with a tune. His song of choice? Row, Row, Row Your Boat. It's priceless. (We'll have to get video of that to share.)

We do have video of Keegan at the keyboard. He enjoys when Jen plays ragtime pieces, but he also gets on the keys and works on his finger technique all the time. See for yourself.

Tag

I've been tagged by h. and tasked with telling you ten random things about me. So here goes.

1) I skipped second grade.

2) But I failed calculus in high school. Not like just barely failed. I got a 47 in fall semester calc. Those concepts just didn't register with me at all . . . not ever really studying for the class didn't help either.

3) In fifth grade, I was offered the chance to audition for The Atlanta Boy Choir. I didn't go. I played baseball instead. (Not sure I chose wisely there.)

4) My senior year of high school, I had a problem with No Doz. One really shouldn't take 6 of those things before a first-period physics class. (That might also explain my inability to focus in Ms. Cole's calculus class.)

5) For my first semester of my freshman year at UF, I lived in a dorm (Murphree Hall) that was not air-conditioned. The school offered this option at a lower cost for people who wanted to reduce their expenses. I think I just signed up for housing late. I was in a triple. We had a system of box fans in the windows to try and deal with the heat. Two fans blew air out of the room and two drew air in. [The electrical system in that old dorm couldn't handle everyone having window AC units, so no one was allowed to.] August and September were brutal months in that room. I showered at least twice a day just to try and cool off (not because I was OCD). But it was right next to the north end zone of The Swamp, so it was very convenient to roll out of bed and into the stadium on game days to watch Emmitt during his sophomore year. Second semester, I moved over to the old Hume Hall which had AC.

6) Grammar-related pet peeves:

(a) "Irregardless" is not a word.

(b) There is no need for the word "prideful." The noun is "pride." To be full of pride is to be "proud."

(c) At least 90% of the time, you do not need to use "or not" when you use the word "whether." The "whether" alone is sufficient. Trust me.

7) I've only broken one bone on my body. The pinky toe on my right foot. When I was 17 or 18, I woke up one morning and stepped out of bed. In my post-slumber stupor, I did not appreciate that my foot was asleep. I put my weight on it, and the toe went right while the rest of my body fell in a heap. Luckily, my foot was asleep, so I didn't really feel the pain of the break. No real need to go to the doctor to confirm that break though. The 90-degree angle the toe was making with the neighboring toe was all the evidence I needed. I just taped the toe to the adjacent ring-finger toe and went about my day. Along with some Advil for pain management.

8) If I could do anything, I would coach soccer full-time. If I had to do something else in order to coach soccer, I would try to teach -- preferably on a college campus. This law firm life doesn't allow the freedom necessary to coach.

9) I like to cuss. And I cuss a lot when I play sports (or watch sports for that matter). I blame it on my Irish blood. Jen just says I'm a freak.

10) I get annoyed by all the talk about closing off our borders and stemming the tide of immigrants (even the "illegal" ones). And not just because my son is Hispanic. This is a country founded by immigrants. There was only one "native" people group here when the pilgrims discovered the "new world" in their brass-buckled clogs. If we took some time to get to know these immigrants, we'd see that most of them are here because they believe in the same American Dream that the rest of us do. Many of them are making far greater sacrifices to realize it too. Frankly, I'm not sure what everyone is so afraid of.

I tag STK, JM and Anita. Tell us some random tidbits about yourselves. Give us a glimpse into who you are.

And keep voting for Modern Skirts (see below). Yesterday afternoon, the band had taken over the top spot, but this morning, they had slipped back to #2 again. Vote HERE. And vote as often as you like/can.

Thanksgiving 2007

I thought about trying to be different and posting about the things that I am not thankful for today. But that would be disingenuous. I think there's something to learn in all of the things that we face. So I may include some of the things that I could do without but for which I am thankful.

1) My wife. She is someone who has such a full heart. She puts up with all of my shortcomings -- and there are a truck-load of those. She is an awesome mom to K-Man. She is a great friend. She knows when to challenge and when to encourage.

2) K-Man. Having a kid is a life-changing experience. He draws out the kid in me. And everyone should have someone who does that.

3) Friends. There are way too many of those to mention here. You know who you are. Several of you have been by my side for nearly 25 years. You've helped me through hard times and celebrated great moments as well. Thank you for your constant presence.

4) My job. My job provides us the means to put a roof over our heads. To pay for the cars we have. To pay for my student loans. To put food on the table and diapers on K-Man's butt. It helps build a retirement as well.

5) Our church. It provides a place to be fed and many opportunities to serve. Opportunities that I don't take full advantage of, but we'll skip the self-imposed guilt trip today.

6) DirecTV and Tivo. You knew eventually I would get past the traditional focuses of thanks and get to the superficial aspects of life. I am thankful for satellite television for several reasons. The main reason is that it provided me with the means to tell the cable companies to take a hike. Plus it provides me access to scores of English and European football matches. And by football, I mean soccer.

7) Everyone who defends our freedom. People who leave their families for months, and sometimes years, on end to fight enemies known and unknown; seen and unseen.

8) Music. I don't play any instrument, but I love music performed by those who can. Thank you to all the musicians who make life a little more pleasant.

I could go on and on, but I won't. I'm going to pour another glass of wine and enjoy some family time. Thanks for hanging out today. Happy Thanksgiving!

Reunions and the burden of false appearances

OK it's been way too long since my last post. Sorry about that. I've been working on this one for about a week -- hence the backdating. I hope the SEC doesn't inquire about that! [Investment humor? Only DA will laugh at that. I hope.]

Jen and I went to our 15th college reunion last weekend. It's hard to believe that we've been out of college for that long. We went to Asbury College, a small Christian liberal arts college in Wilmore, Kentucky. While we were there, the women's soccer coach asked me to come out and kick around with some of his players on Saturday morning. He has given them a set of challenges they must meet to make the team. Some of them asked him to come out to help them. So I went out there. There were 5 girls out there. They were working on chipping the ball first. They need to chip it 40 yards as one of the challenges. Not an easy task. I was chipping with this girl for a while. She was working up to trying the longer distance. I was standing at the 40-yard distance to show her how far she had to go. She was getting close at around 33-35 yards. Where I was standing, it was a little muddy from the previous day's rain and the regular watering they are doing to reseed the field. On one kick, I went to chip it the 40-yard distance. I knew I would need to give it a little more leg than I had been for the shorter chips. With the mud, my plant foot slipped, and I fell right down on my hip. The girls erupted in laughter. Then they asked if I was OK. I'm sure they're asking me this because I am so old. I give them a hard time for laughing at an old man -- especially because I could've broken my hip in the fall. More laughter. (I'm old, but apparently, I'm funny.) Later, we're getting ready to leave, and one of them points out how dirty my shorts are and asks again if I'm OK. I assure them I'm fine, and tell them I'm just glad that the hip didn't give out on me. More laughter.

We went to school with "kids" from a variety of backgrounds. Some kids went from Christian high schools straight to Wilmore. Others had gone to public schools but found their way to Asbury through their local churches. Some went because long lines of relatives always went to Asbury and that was the only place their parents would pay for them to go.


Being a Christian school, there were certain things that were required of students and certain things that were off limits. We had curfew. We had chapel three times a week. The men had to wear collared shirts to class. The women had to wear skirts unless it was freezing outside and then, pants were permitted. It sounds sort of puritanical. I guess it was (actually mid-way through our time there, the skirt rule got dropped -- so progressive!). But it's not like we had no idea what we were getting into. The college made us read the student handbook and sign a pledge to abide by its terms.


Our reunion got me to thinking about how we all reacted to life in Wilmore when we were in school and after we graduated. Some felt the pressure to do all that was expected and avoid all that was off limits. Others approached it as a challenge to get away with as much as possible. The ones that stand out most to me are those who went to great lengths to look like they were only doing what they were supposed to and avoiding what was off limits. But several stories surfaced during school and after graduation about people who succumbed to the weight of the burden of false appearances. It can be overwhelming to constantly worry about hiding one's flaws.


I don't think that lesson applies only to those with whom we went to college. I think at some point, we've all had those times where we put up a front to protect our reputation or our position. We need to be more authentic about who we are. We aspire to be better. To live a Christ-centered life. But we're not perfect. None of us. Even that person you've always held on a pedestal. You know the one.

The revelation here (for me and maybe for you) is that no one thinks we're perfect. If you have friends who expect you to be perfect or whose friendship is conditioned on you being perfect (or appearing to be perfect), it begs the question whether they're truly your friends. Friends don't care that you screw up or that you get depressed or that you regularly double dip your chip or that you chew with your mouth open (OK they might care about that -- and a friend should tell you to close your freakin' mouth when you're eating!). I would venture to guess that they love hanging with you even more when you let your guard down and reveal your flaws. A lot of people will love hanging out with you more if you're not afraid to show that you have struggles like the rest of humanity. It's hard to ask someone for help when you think they're perfect and don't struggle with life.