THAT MISTER MISTER

FINALLY

It's Opening Day. Finally.

"Anybody would say this and I will also: The sky's the limit on him. The only guy who could get in his way is himself... He might be, position player-wise, one of the top five guys in the league."

"Nothing not to like. He throws strikes, prepares well, is professional in what he does and he gets people out. He's a frontline guy, there's no question. For me, he's one of the top six or seven guys in the majors. I'd take him in a heartbeat."

WELCOME TO MY LIFE

I don't know how I ever lived without you.

LET THE BEAT BUILD

WHATEVER IT IS

When I get bored at work (See: When it rains or is May-August) I generally end up screwing around on my phone. Sometimes it's reading articles, other times playing games, and others blasting away texts and BBMs. Lately, I keep coming back to a conversation I had with a certain someone some random summer day, with the sticking point being: "Let it play out."

Those that know me are more than aware that I am laid back (Unless I'm in a competitive situation. Then forget about it). Sometimes overly so. Like, to a fault. People think I'm lazy. I walk slow, people watch, eat long meals, and love a couch. Love baseball. Love golf. I sit back and relax, because life is no fun stressed all the time.

Despite that, I have a hard time with patience. That doesn't seem to make sense, but I promise it's true. It's just the way I am. When there's something I want, I have a hard time waiting for it. I do whatever I can that I think will help me get it and keep it. I screw a lot of things up that way, but it is what it is.

I think that's where letting it play out comes in. Maybe. But things get realllly interesting the times I try to balance the laid back with the impatience. When I really want something, but want it to come to me. I am used to just letting things come to me, or just going after the things I want. I guess trying to find a balance between the two is my "letting it play out." I am not sure this is right. But I feel like being laid back is not exactly letting things play out so much as it watching them play out. For me, letting things play out means there are still moves to be made (to borrow a line from Kyle), and you can't just sit back and wait. You have to make an effort, build something up, all for the chance that maybe it works.

Anyways, I've decided I suck at it. Whatever it is. I'm pretty certain I know what I want, and it would be real great if it just happened. No moves to be made. No hesitation or reservation. Just going for it.

WHEN EVERYTHING IS OUT

YOU NEVER KNOW

"Buy the ticket, take the ride."

- Hunter S. Thompson

FINDING NEVERLAND

"I suppose it's like the ticking crocodile, isn't it? Time is chasing after all of us, isn't that right?"

- Mrs. Snow, Finding Neverland

THE MAN

One of the greatest fairytales in sports has reached its end. Most of us know the story at this point, but thinking about it today, it is still incredible to me. Shunned by the NFL after graduating from Northern Iowa, Kurt Warner was stocking shelves in a grocery store for $5.50 an hour. After stops in the Arena League and NFL Europe, he finally got his shot - as a third string quarterback. That's not exactly a real big chance. I would guess that 90% of the people that might read this can't name the Cardinals' third stringer right now. The rest is history, as they say. Injuries forced him into action, and four weeks into his NFL career he's on the cover of Sports Illustrated under the title "Who IS this guy?"

"This guy" is the man. He is what every athlete should be. God-fearing. Gracious. Humble. Giving. A family man above all else. He is a hero. He is a two-time MVP. And a Super Bowl Champion. One of the best ever. The following quote is a little questionable on metaphors and language, so some of you might just be better off skipping it, but sums up Kurt's quarterbacking ability about as well as anything I've ever read:

"No way in hell I pick against the Cardinals when there's always a chance that Kurt Warner will slaughter a calf for God's glory and be transformed, once more, into '99 Warner, setting the fucking Earth aflame for four weeks straight. I don't give a shit if Boldin or Rodgers-Cromartie aren't playing. If '99 Warner materializes on the field Sunday, Green Bay has no fucking chance. ‘99 Warner can get off atomically precise passes forty yards downfield with seven defenders hanging off of his dick. He can ejaculate through a Froot Loop and not hit the sides of it. He can also turn water into Booker's. There's nothing else like it. I swear, I've never seen a QB play better than when '99 Warner strikes. Ever. Not Brady. Not Manning. No one. He's unstoppable when he's feeling that shit."

He is that good. And he made football in Arizona fun. We're talking about the Arizona Cardinals. PLAYING IN THE SUPER BOWL. It still doesn't make sense. I remember telling a friend before the NFC Championship Game last year that if somehow Kurt led us to the Super Bowl, absolutely anything in this life is possible. And when it happened, I cried. At a sports bar. In public. And I believe it. Absolutely anything. No doubt it took a lot more than just Kurt to get there - Coach Whiz, Fitz, A Dub, Dansby, Dockett, and DRC. It took everyone. But there's no way we get even close without Kurt. No way in hell. Last January was the most incredible month of my life. Call it ridiculous, I don't really care. It's true. And anyone who has grown up on Cardinal football will tell you the exact same thing. There was nothing like that ride last January. I will never forget it.

And as amazing as he was on the field, he was even better off it. There is not a single athlete out there I would rather have a kid looking up to. He is something else. So, so different than 98% of the guys out there. He gets it. This life isn't about us. This life is about grace, and each of us using whatever God has given us, big and small, and honoring Him in it. One of my favorite quotes ever is from my pastor John Lynch, who said:

"This life isn't about arriving any place, it's about returning time and again to the One who brought us here."

That's something that Kurt has always driven home for me, as a Cardinal and otherwise. He went from nothing to the top of the world. And yet, it was never about him. I hope that regardless of what I have in front of me, I can be half of what Kurt was, and is. He'll be missed. Him and his giant sleeves.

Thank you, Kurt. For all of it. You're the man.

SO IT BEGINS

It was a hell of a way to start, but here's to hoping we just began another amazing ride.
51-45.



Let's go Cards.

STRICTLY SPEAKING, NO CHANCES

"But in friendship, we think we have chosen our peers. In reality, a few years difference in the dates of our birth, a few more miles between certain houses, the choice of one university over another, the accident of one topic being raised or not raised at a first meeting - any of these chances might have kept us apart. But, for a Christian, there are, strictly speaking, no chances. A secret Master of Ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples, 'You have not chosen one another, but I have chosen you for one another.'"

- C.S. Lewis

SOMEONE GETS IT

From Mike Wise at The Washington Post. I have never been particularly impressed with his writing, but this is something completely different.

"Nike will never shoot a commercial to show my impact on my sport and the world; multiethnic children will never look into a camera lens and say they resemble me.

But I am Tiger Woods.

And weeks after the personal life of the world's most recognizable athlete crumbled, I still cringe every time I hear a voice mail of a desperate man trying to hide the truth from his significant other. The reason I have yet to write about the biggest sports story of the year in these pages is because Woods's plea to one of his many mistresses brought up old, awful feelings of shame, guilt and humiliation.

I won't revisit my own crash site in any detail here, but I can say the painful first step of the journey -- of seeing myself for who I really was -- also began in the worst imaginable way.

I am Tiger Woods, and just as Charles Barkley stood up for him during his weakest moments, I had friends lend support, telling others not to judge.

And while their efforts were appreciated, most of these people turned out to be enablers from the fraternity of arrested development, where boys must be boys because authentic men aren't allowed to join. I knew I couldn't change until my circle of "friends" changed.

I am Tiger Woods, and though I have never been an elite athlete, I work in the culture of the elite athlete, where infidelity isn't merely condoned, it's strongly encouraged.

It's a culture where Kurt Thomas's New York Knicks teammates once told him not to bring his wife for a three-day trip to Miami, "because that's like bringin' sand to the beach."

Joe DiMaggio, pushing 60, once tucked a phone number of a 20ish flight attendant in his pocket, smiling at the sportswriter seated next to him in first class.

"Joe, she's somebody's daughter," protested Ron Bergman, then covering the Oakland A's. Replied DiMaggio, matter-of-factly: "They're all somebody's daughter."

Joltin' Joe was also Tiger Woods, who may have to suffer the indignity of losing his family to understand this goes deeper than the culture of blow-dried nothings in beer commercials, deeper than bored, rich alpha males on the road for 270 days a year.

I am Tiger Woods, and saying the greatest golfer on the planet got married too young is a cheap cop-out that misses an essential point: that this is really about a man who has everything and nothing at the same time, a guy medicating with women to fill emotional gaps -- the way some people use food, alcohol, drugs, work and golf on television

The absolute meltdown of a global brand is only extraordinary because of the once cool, calm and oh-so-calculating persona of Tiger. If Rick Pitino, Alex Rodriguez, David Letterman, Eliot Spitzer, Bill Clinton and Mark Sanford are also Tiger Woods, so are many anonymous people who never played sports, hosted a TV show or ran for office.

And like the potentates and poseurs, they too probably cringe when they hear the voice mail begin, "Hey, it's Tiger," and wince when they read the explicit text messages between a panicked guy and one of his other women. Most of all, they thank the heavens they were only found out by the people they hurt -- rather than by all seven continents.

I am Tiger Woods, and I understand why the scent of a woman is unbeaten in 2009 and beyond. It is an equal-opportunity addiction, costing manicured, polished stars such as Pitino their coiffed reputations and unknown, dumpy software salesmen their families and jobs.

The truth is, I need help not to be Tiger Woods, a support system helpful to this day. That hearing words such as "dog" or terms such as "commitment issues" only serves to mask real issues. We use them so people such as Tiger Woods never take the time to Google "Attachment Disorder" or "Love Addiction" or look at how their old man treated their mom and what kind of message that sent to a gifted child who would grow up to respect a game more than his wife.

When I hear people say, "Look, it's not like he's an alcoholic or a drug addict; sleeping around is not going to kill Tiger," I cringe again. And think of the most extreme case of infidelity imaginable in sports, in which a beloved, church-going man winds up with a bullet in his head, lying next to the woman who shot him before she took her own life last summer.

Yes, that deranged woman could have been anyone, a warped fan, even his wife. Still, the terrifying truth is Steve McNair was also Tiger Woods.

Three stories piquing prurient interest the past year involved a born-again former Pro Bowl quarterback, a college basketball coach who wore his Catholicism on his lapel, and Tiger, the heir apparent to Muhammad Ali and Michael Jordan in the sports world, an icon marketed to be the most wholesome of them all. When all three fell from pedestals -- and one of them paid the ultimate price for it -- that's not a dangerous trend of infidelity; that's disease.

When married billionaires bring breakfast waitresses to the family home in the middle of the day after they've already hooked up in a parking lot, that's not sex; that's real affliction.

When the world's most recognizable athlete uses his Blackberry to text a relative kid in Las Vegas about how much he misses her -- and she's but one of a dozen -- that's not sex; that's sickness.

I am Tiger Woods, and I have poked fun at his travails because I use humor as camouflage, because if I were to deal with the truth, if the world were to know the details of my sad, pathetic electronic communication with other women at one time in my life, the horrific embarrassment would not just send me into seclusion; it would send me off the ledge.

It's easy -- maybe even natural -- to judge his actions and ignore what led to them:

Tiger Woods has an emotional void in his life. This void must be huge. For him to be where he is today, this deep emptiness must have consumed him, must be something he has been living with for a long time. Moreover, he has to live with his emptiness while being fully aware that everyone in the world knows just what a manufactured lie his image has been.

Having stared into this void, having known this hollowness, I can neither excoriate the guy nor exonerate him.

I am Tiger Woods, and because of that, I can only hope that he realizes he's sick and takes steps to get better."

EVERYTHING TO LOSE

It might seem ridiculous saying the Suns have taught me a thing or two about life, but this is how I have grown up.

"It just feels right to live in a world where the Phoenix Suns are competitive again. They may be lacking in many respects, but to see Steve Nash lead this squad on break after break is a facet of the modern NBA that simply cannot be replaced. The unique combination of pure speed, versatility, and team coordination just can’t be rivaled, and though this year’s team may shine in a different hue than the models featuring Shawn Marion, Boris Diaw, or Joe Johnson, I don’t think it makes them any less resonant.

Mike D’Antoni may not have been a prophet, but he was certainly a philosopher. The trademark of D’Antoni’s Suns was always their mortality, and I think that legacy has lived on through this current team. The Seven Seconds or Less squads wear (or wore) their vulnerabilities on their sleeve, but their mortality comes as much from leading a particularly vulnerable existence as it does from finding exuberance in it. These teams, in all of their fast-breaking splendor and glory, know how to live. They know how to play a bit, too, but the defining legacy of the Mike D’Antoni era in Phoenix (which lives on today) should be the Suns’ artful display of basketball as life.

Maybe the hustle and the bustle of the Suns doesn’t quite fit your living style, but who could possibly claim that the exaggerated in-game highs and lows of the Suns — the 20-point lead built and swallowed by a 5-25 run, the 3-point barrages followed by defensive letdowns — aren’t basketball’s most fitting equivalent of life on the outside?

It’s not about the 9-5 grind, and it’s not necessarily about winning all the time; the Suns’ existence is predicated on winning more than you lose, embracing who you are, playing by your own rules, learning to live through the ups and downs, and remembering that the line between work and play doesn’t have to be crystal clear. They work hard, they score points, and they play basketball like it’s a game worth playing.

They may not have the talent of the Lakers or the convention of the Spurs, but this is a team of hard workers and ball players with a plan. I don’t know if that plan means anything in the Western Conference playoff picture this season, and in the grand scheme of things I’m not sure it matters all that much. If there were ever a solid case to be made against the championship being the end-all of athletic conquests, it would have to be the Suns, who may have discovered along the way to 60-win seasons and the Conference Finals that the journey is perhaps the worthier part.

I’m not presumptuous enough to claim to know everything about life, but a very wise, script-assisted high schooler once gave me some sage advice: Life moves pretty fast, and if you don’t stop to look around once in awhile, you could miss it. It’s easy to have your perception of the Suns skewed by the whiz-bang-boom of their transition offense, but taking in the entire scene is crucial to our understanding of the Suns in a historical context. There are plenty of teams in the league that I enjoy watching, but few, if any, so perfectly encapsulate what is it to do something to its fullest and to enjoy it so wholly and completely. Watch this year’s team and you’ll see it. Breeze through the pages of Jack McCallum’s book and you feel it. And then think about the Suns, consider all that they’ve been through and all that they’ve done for the game of basketball, and you’ll just know it. While some may remark that the Suns play as if they have nothing to lose, I think their style speaks to the contrary. The Suns play basketball like they have everything to lose. If not, then they themselves might slow down for a minute to pick at old wounds or over-analyze what they see in the mirror. But they don’t, and each night on the schedule is another exercise in celebrating everything that is theirs to lose. If basketball is life and life is basketball, then the run-and-gun Phoenix Suns have been the game’s magnum opus: a team that plays in a way that begs you to watch, but more importantly plays in a way that begs you to listen."

SMART GUY

"We are all afraid of something. Some have more fears than others. The one we must all guard against is the fear of ourselves. Don't let the sensations of fear convince you that you're too weak to have courage. Fear is the opportunity for courage, not proof of cowardice. No one is born a coward. We were meant to love. And we were meant to have courage for it. So be brave. The rest is easy."

- John McCain

WHERE RUBBLE LIES, WE'LL BUILD

Take these papers and tell me I'm loved
Keep me from writing one more sad song

Here's the good news: Where rubble lies, we'll build
In paper valleys, on paper mountains
This fragile house is for me to live in

I built these walls, I wrote every word
And each passing sentence brings them much closer to falling on me
The weight brings them down with gravity

Help me, honey, to mend what I've made
Fix me, quickly, before I bend and break
I've got troubles building on me
And one day if I don't escape
This refuge I built will take me away

I built these walls, I wrote every word
And each passing sentence brings them much closer to falling on me
The weight brings them down with gravity

IT'S TRUE, YOU KNOW

"If anything matters, then everything matters."

- William P. Young, The Shack

I WILL PRAISE YOU IN THIS STORM

At this point, prayer, faith, and trust are all we have. Please keep praying. It's so powerful. Love you, Mo.

I was sure by now, God
That You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say amen
And it's still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
The God who gives and takes away

And I'll praise you in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I've cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I remember when I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to You
And raised me up again
My strength is almost gone how can I carry on
If I can't find You
And as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
The God who gives and takes away

I lift my eyes into the hills
Where does my help come from
My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth

THAT IS WHAT IT'S ABOUT

As mentioned previously, it seems the majority of my friends have determined this month to be the beginning of wedding season. And as such, this past weekend was spent with 14 of us in Vegas for Michael's bachelor party. Now, for those that know our group of friends, they know that we don't really have any interest in strippers and the like at all, so we didn't have your typical "bachelor weekend in Vegas." We did, however, have a weekend that wouldn't surprise anyone that knows us in the least. Long-story-short, it was madness. And SO MUCH FUN. Beyond the inebriated insanity that is Vegas, it was the first time in quite awhile that we had all of us (save Kohl) together again. So, we celebrated as such.

But that's not really the point of this. Not here to tell crazy stories, and it has nothing to do with the "what happens in Vegas..." mantra. That's nonsense and everyone knows it. No matter how much you want to believe it. The only time that holds true is when you are literally too trashed to remember. So I guess you can go with that.

Anyways, the point of this is the fellowship factor that we all had back in our lives for 72 or so hours. That sounds almost trivial, using the word fellowship to describe a weekend in Vegas, but I mean it. Yes, we had our fun, and did plenty of dumbass things that had people shaking their heads. But we did it together. Like we used too in the Martin's garage or on the streets of Phoenix every single weekend when we were younger.

What stuck most with me this weekend was Michael's bachelor dinner. We spent it on a patio sitting over the strip, sharing drinks and food and stories from the past, just enjoying each other's company. Towards the end, Michael's dad Dennis had some things to say to both Michael, and the group as a whole, and it ended up being my favorite part of the weekend.

You see, Dennis is basically like another dad to me, and the Martin's another family. About the time I met them, 12 or so years ago, Michael's older brother had just passed away. And somehow, over the years as Michael and I became best friends, I also became his brother. I think I spent the night at his house every single weekend I was in the state of Arizona for about four straight years. No lie. And now he's getting married. It's crazy. I love him, I love Dennis and their family, and they love me like their own. After Dennis' speech he grabbed both Michael and I, and we just hugged for a long time and, if we're being honest, we all teared up. One of those indescribeable moments in life that words do no justice. But what struck me just as much was the way Dennis closed. He had spent the last few minutes mentioning all the things that he has loved over the past bunch of years, and his last was for whatever reason just so simply profound to me -

"...and I've always loved cigars. And the reason I love them so much is that they force us to sit down and just be with one another."

And for us, that is what it's all about. What it always comes back to. Michael is the one getting married, but in a way, even this we're doing together. Always together.

I'D LIKE TO MAKE MYSELF BELIEVE

You would not believe your eyes
If ten million fireflies
Lit up the world as I fell asleep
'Cause they fill the open air,
And leave teardrops everywhere
You'd think me rude, but I would just stand and... stare

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems

'Cause I get a thousand hugs
From ten thousand lightning bugs
As they try to teach me how to dance
A foxtrot above my head,
A sock hop beneath my bed,
A disco ball is just hanging by a thread

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems

Leave my door open just a crack
(Please take me away from here)
'Cause I feel like such an insomniac
(Please take me away from here)
Why do I tire of counting sheep?
(Please take me away from here)
When I'm far too tired to fall asleep

To ten million fireflies
I'm weird 'cause I hate good-byes
I got misty eyes as they said farewell
But I'll know where several are
If my dreams get real bizarre
'Cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
Because my dreams are bursting at the seams

HELLO, OCTOBER

As you know, unless you live in a cave, October is here. And that means fall is too. It's my favorite time of the year for a variety of reasons, and this year is no different. Well, it kind of is, being that apparently the cool thing to do this fall is get married. Not me though. Maybe I'm just not a cool kid. Whatever. Anyways, it doesn't make fall any less fantastic. Amazing weather, birthdays and Thanksgiving (and weddings), football, prime time golf season, playoff baseball, basketball coming back, and only a few more weeks until my rib is supposedly undislocated (located? relocated? I need help here). I love it. It was 60 degrees when I woke up this morning. Huh?

But as much as I love fall, I am kind of weary regarding this one. Stoked for sure, but unsure as well. Like in Missed the Boat: "certainly uncertain, at least I'm pretty sure I am." For me, I get the feeling that this is going to be a big fall (the season, not a plunge). I think it could be a turning point. Yeah, I graduated a few months ago, and most consider that the proverbial turning point. But for me, I feel differently. I've been home a few months now, and I don't need to rehash how much I love it. It's been great to slow down and get back into things here. Relationships, routine... just life here. But I think that it has kind of made me stagnant to a point, as well. Kind of like being in a big game or something - Are you just happy to be there, or are you going to make something of it? I think it might be time to start making something of it. Not that I haven't been, so I guess this analogy kind of fails. But time to not just be complacent being here, I guess. The plan was law school next year, but a wrench got thrown in that recently, so I have no idea. Right about that time, though, I was given what may turn out to be one of the bigger opportunities of my life. It's a long long loooooong shot, but it's something, so we will just leave it at that for now. And last night I took the first step down what could be quite the road.

To be honest, though - it scares the hell out of me. What if it doesn't happen? What's the plan then? Or what if it does? That would bring about a thousand new questions and logistical nightmares to my life. And what the hell do I do in the mean time? It could be awhile either way. Do I pursue this or that? Do I put myself on the line in a relationship or situation without knowing even a likely outcome of the bigger picture? Do I even spend time hoping someone might put themselves on the line with me? Why don't you just say something already?

Freaking 18 questions at a time. I have quite the dilemma - wanting to move forward and have things grow, without knowing if or when things are going to change again. It makes the complacency a lot easier. Even for someone prone to taking risks like me.

What's up, October? What's up, fall? What's up, life? Bring it.