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Showing posts from 2018

The Rules, as They Apply to Serena

“ Well, she DID break the rules ,” some people are saying. This past Saturday, Serena Williams was penalized in ways that were unprecedented for a Grand Slam final. Some want to spin the narrative that technically Serena deserved what she got. That is an oversimplification that needs more careful thought. Her first warning for coaching was justified, technically , by the fact that her coach was indeed gesturing for her to go to the net. Set aside for now the fact that men are rarely, if ever, called for similar behavior. Her second infraction, resulting in a point deduction, was for smashing her racket. She did. The Grand Slam rulebook defines “verbal abuse” as any statement about an official that “implies dishonesty or is derogatory, insulting or otherwise abusive.” So for her third infraction -- calling Ramos a “liar” and a “thief” -- she technically broke that rule resulting in a game deduction late in the second set. What people need to acknowledge is how sexism and racis

Action is Worry's Worst Enemy

Each year my seniors conclude by presenting ten-minute long commencement speeches. It has become a tradition for me to write one as well, my final message as they head out into the world that awaits. Here is this year's speech.  Some morning near the end of high school, I stood on the beach in Ocean City and watched the sunrise. I remember seeing that sunrise as the perfect symbol of my own new beginnings. I was only weeks away from graduation, and I was ready for the next step in my life. That year Nelson Mandela had been elected the first black president of South Africa, and I was positive that was proof of the world leaving racism behind. That year the Irish Republican Army agreed to a ceasefire, ending years of bombings and shootings, and I was certain that was evidence of the world turning its back on terrorism. That year the United States and Russia agreed to stop pointing nuclear weapons at each other, and I was sure that signaled end of governments threatening

This Memorial Day, I Would Still Take a Knee

When Colin Kaepernick first decided to take a knee in protest of the unlawful use of excessive force by white police officers against unarmed black men, I wrote that I would take a knee.  If I were fortunate enough to be an athlete whose natural talents and hard work had placed me on a national stage, I would still take a knee. I would walk out of the invisible world of the locker room and onto the televised field of play, and I would kneel. I would do this because peaceful protest is just as much a part of our collective history as are slavery, segregation, and suppression of black Americans. A couple days ago NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell made an announcement. “This season,” he said, “all league and team personnel shall stand and show respect for the flag and the anthem.” Right there, he misses a fundamental truth: kneeling is a respectful gesture; a gesture meant to draw attention to a gross social injustice is not synonymous with disrespecting the flag, the anthem, or the coun

AR-15s: An Education

Science . The human brain is not fully developed until the age of twenty-five. Fully developed adults process the world relying heavily on the prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for good judgement and understanding long-term decisions. Kids under the age of twenty-five  rely heavily on the amygdala, the part of the brain responsible for processing emotion. The amygdala develops first. This is why my seven and eleven-year-old sons have more emotional outbursts than I do. They just feel hurt and angry in a maelstrom of childhood emotion. Logic has not kicked in yet. It won’t fully until they are twenty-five. Still, a nineteen-year-old boy, who I wish the media would stop calling a man, legally bought an AR-15 semi-automatic assault rifle.  My amygdala says, that thing would be awesome to square up some grudges I feel against the legislators who have wronged me and this country by weaponizing our citizenry, and profiting off of the carnage. My prefrontal corte

Bringing back an old favorite post in honor of the ice. Pond Hockey.

Pond hockey is a simple game.  Wait for the lake to freeze, find a bunch of guys willing to put on ice hockey skates, buy some Advil and a bunch of extra pucks for all the shots we will miss, and play.  Those of you who have played know what I am talking about.  For those who don't, I am talking about a slip in time that lets you be a kid again.  I am talking about the reality of time travel.  The excitement surrounding pond hockey begins early in the day, the first time one of us goes out and measures the ice.  Drill in hand we drive the bit into the frozen surface of the lake hoping like children that it won't give too soon, that we will feel at least four inches of resistance before hitting water.  We are dying to send out the text telling everyone that the ice is thick enough to skate, that the game is on.  Once the news is out, we feel ourselves getting more and more distracted as the day goes on, maybe cutting corners on some task at work or reading a bedtime stor