So Awesome!

I can't believe I didn't think of this.

About Which I Could Write

Here I am, staring at this picture, wondering if there’s something here about which I could write, and it dawns on me that in this wonderful city of ours, in this pair of communities we call home, there are many things that I love – crowds outside of movie theaters and smokers outside of bars, clubs with histories and buildings on registries, and streets with trees and sidewalks with cracks, and people walking and people bicycling, and radio stations that get to play anything they want and bookstores that choose to carry anything you’d want, and teams, both professional and bad, and weathers, both warm and never-come-outside cold, and parks, and lakes, and good people with good ideas – but at the end of the day, when you've really given it a careful thought, we have no sea and no giant rubber ducky. So no, there is nothing here about which I could write.

A Place in History

Rocco Mediate lost the 2008 U.S. Open Championship to Tiger Woods today.

Imagine if he had won.

Tiger tied it on the final hole of the final round, forcing an 18-hole playoff. At the end of the playoff round, on the final hole, Tiger did it again, sinking a birdie putt and forcing a round of sudden death. Then, as if the winds of fate finally began to blow, Tiger clinched the 'o8 U.S. Open title on the first hole of sudden death - the 19th hole of the day - the 91st hole of the tournament.

As a big enough fan to have been watching golf's majors since junior high, and who is fully aware of how incredibly nail-biting the game of golf can be, I have no words for this tournament. Certainly, it was the best I’ve ever seen.

I would give just about anything that’s not bolted to the ground to have been at Torrey Pines these past few days, to be able to have the "I was there" story to tell, so I can’t begin to imagine carrying with me the story that Rocco Mediate now will.

But again, imagine if he had won.

In the moments that everything swung from Rocco’s favor to Tiger’s, I realized something: that a win by Rocco would give him one of the greatest upset stories in golf history, but that by losing he now can claim one of the most exciting chapters of the biggest story in golf’s history – the story of Tiger Woods.

The 2008 U.S. Open title was Tiger’s 14th major championship, and he called it the "greatest tournament" he's ever had. Jack Nicklaus has the current lead in majors with 18 wins, and none of them have been in this fashion. But drama aside, there's something more to this.

Look at Tiger’s clip. Nicklaus played a full tour schedule until he was 46, needing that final year to win his last. Tiger is only 32; it’s only a matter of time before he crosses the line from being the greatest golfer playing today to being the greatest golfer that ever was. And when he does cross that line, Rocco will be there, holding his head high, saying, “I was this close.”

Here's to losing!

An Apology from Mr. Kilgore

Blogging should not be contained to the exception. I'm sorry.

Being Seen

The instructor dismissed us for a fifteen-minute break then confronted me in the hallway. She asked me what I was going to get. We were both examining a bank of vending machines. I said that I didn’t know.

She said, “Has anyone ever really looked at you – ever really seen you?”

Again, I said that I didn’t know.

She said, “I can feel you looking at me when I’m teaching.”

“I’m not,” I said.

“Yes, you are. I can feel it.”

“I never even do the assignments.”

“No,” she said. “You’re right, you don't.”

“What does it feel like?” I said.

“What does what feel like?”

“When I’m looking at you, what does it feel like?”

“It feels like you can really see me.”

I thought about this for a moment then put two dollars in the nearest machine and punched in the numbers for a pack of gum.

She said, “I probably spend a hundred dollars every year on gum.”

The students started filing back into the classroom then.

“I’ll try and do my work from now on,” I said.

“Yes. That would be nice.”

I asked her if she wanted a piece of gum.

“Thank you,” she said. She took one, then said, “When you’re looking at me, do you see anything?”

“No." I thought about it for moment and said, “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“It’s O.K.,” she said. “You know, I should save this piece of gum. Chewing gum is not conducive to teaching.”

“No, you’re right, it’s not.”

A Room with a View

I finally did it. I rented a writing studio. I’m there now!

What this means is that I have 24-hour access to a clean and quiet space, and that I’m now paying for the privilege to write…and by write, I don’t mean blog entries.

So enjoy the pictures and wish me luck on my new endeavor!

The Lego Man in Black

Mixing a legend, a gospel staple and Lego's sounds flammable, right? You'd think. And I have to admit that when I first stumbled onto this video, I was flooded with annoyance. How irreverent of these kids, I thought. But then, after watching it all the way through, I realized that this was a labor of love...and probably not the work of kids. Misguided love? Maybe. But love just the same. Look at the details - at the characters, at their mouths, at the set, at the Man in Black. Look at the frames this must've taken. Look at the consistency from beginning to end. Look at the timing and choreography. This was a labor of absolute reverence. For the song? For Cash himself? Yes, and yes. I think maybe even reverence for Lego's too.

But I'm curious, what do you think?

White Rabbit!

The game is called "White Rabbit!"

My junior high youth director taught it to me. His college professor taught it to him. We played it year-round through junior high and high school - then, after graduating from high school, I ended up going to the same college as my youth director. The professor who had taught him was still there and he was still teaching his students the game.

Here's how you play:

1.) On the first of every month, through whatever means you can think of, you have to be the first person to say "White Rabbit!" to whoever else is playing.

That's it. It's pretty simple.

But we found a way to turn it into a giant and raucous ordeal. It was a given that on the eve of every new month, we'd be out collecting white forks, then stabbing them into whoever's yard, spelling-out W-H-I-T-E R-A-B-B-I-T !, or lugging around a giant poster of a white rabbit that would get passed back and forth between us. Or, if we were all together at the stroke of midnight, there'd be a flurry of quick and directed declarations - whiterabbitwhiterabbitwhiterabbit... And because it picked up where it left off every month, there was never a sense that someone had won, at least not beyond the notion that "I got you this month!"

How many years has it been since we've played? It must be going on ten. Are we too old to play silly games? Too tired to run around in the middle of the night? Maybe. Probably.

It's sometimes hard to see the signs for what they are, for indicators that you, too, are getting old, that you are no different than your elders.

Because I resist the idea I'm getting old, and because I'm feeling nostalgic now, and because it's the first of the month, let me leave you with this... White Rabbit!