A little self-doubt can actually be the greatest motivator

I try not to write too often about my sports public address (PA) announcing side hustle, as it's a pretty niche little world and not all that relevant to most people.

However, I sometimes learn life lessons from announcing that are worth sharing. One such instance occurred last month.

By way of background, I am the PA guy (i.e., the person whose voice you hear over the loudspeakers in the gym, arena or outdoor stadium during sporting events) for just about everything that gets announced at the Wickliffe (Ohio) Upper School, formerly Wickliffe High School.

That means I get to be the voice of the band, football, volleyball, boys and girls soccer, and boys and girls basketball. I also step in during the winter and spring months to do Senior Nights for "non-announced" sports like swimming, tennis, baseball and softball.

In addition, I do quite a bit of work at Perry High School (basketball, soccer, track) and University School (soccer, hockey), along with regular substitute PA announcing work at Cleveland State University (soccer, basketball, volleyball, lacrosse) and other local schools.

Altogether, I announce more than 100 events every year, and I enjoy all of it. It's a fun hobby.

I worked for several years to secure my ongoing announcing gigs, but there has always been this expectation that I would keep trying to move up to the next level, whatever that might be.

I've never presumed I have the chops to announce for any of the big three sports teams in Cleveland: the Browns, Guardians or Cavaliers. But our region's minor league teams have always seemed obtainable, as has a permanent gig for one of Cleveland State's higher-profile programs like men's basketball at the Wolstein Center.

In the past couple of years, I've had three opportunities to audition for minor-league PA spots.

The first was for the NBA G League Cleveland Charge in early 2023. I had a tryout for that job and didn't make the cut. The guy who got the gig, David Kammerman, absolutely deserved it. He's good!

The second was for the Class AA baseball Akron RubberDucks earlier this year. I sent in an audition video, but I wasn't even selected as a finalist. Guess who got that job? Dave again, and again, he deserved it. The man has pipes.

When Dave took the Akron job, I messaged him a note of congratulations, and he mentioned how his previous baseball employer, the Lake County Captains (the high Class A affiliate of the Cleveland Guardians), would now be looking for a PA replacement. At his encouragement, I reached out to them.

The Captains ended up having an open public tryout for their PA announcing position, as well as for the roles of on-field host, mascot and drummer. They were expecting 40 people to come in that day, and from what I could tell, most were trying out for PA announcer.

My voice wasn't in peak shape, as I was still recovering from a cold, but I went anyway and gave it my best shot.

I came in assuming I didn't stand much of a chance. Two reasons for that:

(1) What many professional teams are looking for when it comes to a PA guy is someone with that naturally deep, bass/baritone voice. You know what I mean. It's the voice you hear advertising monster truck rallies on the radio ("SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY!") I simply don't have that. My voice is an octave higher, more in the tenor-to-baritone range. I describe my style only half-jokingly as "congenial white guy TV host."

(2) I had already fallen short in my two previous professional auditions. I was thus somewhat resigned to the idea that I was not of the caliber to work for a pro team.

The Captains audition was on a Tuesday. The following Friday afternoon I received an email from the team offering me a position as one of their PA announcers.

Imagine my surprise.

There are three of us sharing PA duties for the Captains this season. One is an established veteran named Wayne, while the other is an up-and-coming younger guy named Mitch. Both are fantastic PA pros.

To date I've only done a few games, but the fact is, against my own expectations, I got the gig.

In retrospect, I think the self-doubt worked to my advantage. I went into that audition vowing I would just be myself, come what may, and that's exactly what I did. I read in my normal announcing voice without trying to be SUNDAY! SUNDAY! SUNDAY! guy. That's not me, and I'm not going to pretend it is.

You're better off just being yourself in almost every situation, personal and professional.

I also came in with a bit of a chip on my shoulder. Subconsciously, I thought, "I'll show these people." That put a bit of an edge and some energy into my tryout reads.

In the end, I achieved my goal because a large part of me didn't think I could.

Does that make sense? I'm not sure it does.

All I know is, mission accomplished. Long-hoped-for PA announcing milestone achieved.

And I couldn't be happier.

A man's got to know his limitations. I have many.

The list of subjects about which I can confidently say "Oh, I know a lot about that" is exceedingly small.

This comes as no surprise to my friends and family. They'll tell you my knowledge tends to be extremely focused and not altogether useful.

Which I suppose would be OK if I hadn't spent the past 50+ years expecting that at some point, through some unknown process, I would come to understand a wide range of things.

But it hasn't happened. I have very little wisdom and even less common sense. I continue to be mystified by how appliances in my own house work, for example.

It also bothers me that I write every day for both personal and professional reasons, yet I'm not confident I can fully explain the proper use of a comma.

And a semicolon? Forget it.

I am, in short, stunningly ignorant on most topics.

This is one reason I have very few opinions, especially when it comes to politics. Someone will explain their point of view to me on an issue and I'll say, "Well, that sounds right to me." Then another person with an opposing viewpoint will explain their perspective and I'll say, "You know, that sounds right, too."

Maybe I just don't understand the nature of opinions. I'm looking for 100% black-and-white clarity when instead I should be looking for the perspective that seems to carry at least a little more weight. You can, I guess, acknowledge that a person brings up some valid points and still overall disagree with them.

Now, I don't want you to think I'm entirely useless as a human being. There are subjects on which I'm a pretty reliable source. Or at least you could do a lot worse than me if you have questions.

Here is the complete list of those subjects:

• The Australian band Men at Work's full discography and song lyrics
• The 1979 Cleveland Indians
• World War I battles on the Western Front, 1917-18
• Oatmeal: Is it just for breakfast? (THE EXTENT OF MY KNOWLEDGE HERE: "No.")
• Rolling a 300 game in Wii Sports Bowling
• Ottawa Senators goaltenders, 1992-present
• Choosing the correct container size when cleaning up after dinner and storing leftovers

And that's probably about it.

Oh, I'm also pretty good when it comes to Flintstones trivia. Call me the next time someone asks you what Barney Rubble did for a living.

I think of our cats as tiny humans, and I constantly have to remind myself they're not

Ever since Cheddar the cat entered our lives a year ago, this scene has played out hundreds of times.

Cheddar (the orange cat above, lower right) will be sitting in the living room minding his own business, when suddenly calico Ginny, one of our two girl cats, will come charging at him. The two will tussle for a few seconds, hisses will be exchanged, then order will be restored.

When this happens, I give Ginny a stern talking-to. "Why would you do that?" I demand of her. "Stop being a bully. Leave Cheddar alone! You're mean."

Then I pause for a second and realize a few things:

• Ginny does not generally understand English, outside of the word "treats" and her own name.
  
  
• Ginny is acting on instinct. She is not "mean" by nature.
  
  
• These lectures of mine never seem to have an effect, and she is likely to repeat this behavior an hour later.

NOTE: Cheddar is not entirely innocent in all of this. Maybe it's because he's fed up with being attacked, but increasingly, he is the aggressor when he and Ginny or he and Molly square off.

Other than the occasional nose scratch, no one ever gets hurt in these confrontations. But I always feel like Cheddar, a cat who was plucked from the mean streets of Wickliffe by our daughter Melanie, deserves some peace and quiet.

Then again, he's an animal. Does he even know what "peace and quiet" is? Isn't he built to handle this kind of thing?

Regardless of how much we love them, the fact is that our cats, as domesticated as they are, are cats. They have instincts that make them act in ways that, while unpleasant to us, are perfectly natural to them.

Overall, they seem pretty happy with their lives.

This tendency of mine to treat them like people also extends to their facial expressions. Or at least what I interpret as their facial expressions, because again, I read their faces the way I would read people's faces.

Which is also a mistake. Cheddar, for instance, has what Terry calls "Resting Sad Face." He always looks like a forlorn little human child, but he looks that way even when he's sitting on my lap purring and is clearly very content.

So while I still don't like it when the cats fight, as I said, no permanent damage is done and they all seem fairly happy with their lot in life.

Of course, I would know for sure if they stopped being so stubborn and learned to speak English.

Which is the best (and the worst) day of the week?

Supposedly, early "Garfield" cartoons like this one from the mid-1970s were not copyright protected, meaning I can post it here without threat of punishment. Or maybe that's made up. We'll see.

Every once in a while, my son Jared will text our family group chat with a set of "power rankings" in which he rates a group of items from his favorite to his least favorite.

Like, for example, he has previously sent (always randomly, always out of the blue) power rankings of the cats in our family and various breakfast cereals.

These lists are always cause for much discussion and debate within the group chat.

Recently, Jared sent his rankings of the days of the week, from the best (in his opinion Saturday) to the worst (in his mind Tuesday).

It immediately reminded me of a similar list I posted here on the blog way back on July 5, 2013. I figured I would revisit that list and make changes based on 12 additional years of life experience. Surely I don't look at the days of the week the same now as I did when I was 43, do I?

It turns out I do. Following are my days of the week power rankings, which ring as true for me now as they did back in 2013. (Oh, and for comparison's sake, Jared's list from best to worst went Saturday, Friday, Thursday, Wednesday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday.)

#7 - Tuesday

Tuesday is the worst day, hands down. Maybe because it lacks an identity. It's not only the middle of the work week, it's early in the middle of the work week. Few good things happen on Tuesdays, as far as I'm concerned.

#6 - Thursday

"I could never get the hang of Thursdays," says Arthur Dent in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. And I agree. Some people choose to go out and party on Thursday nights. I don't even go out and party on Saturday nights, so that's definitely not for me. Thursday lures you in with, "Hey, the weekend is right around the corner!" But it's not, because Thursday ends and you still haven't arrived at the weekend. You can't fool me, Thursday, you temptress.

#5 - Monday

This is higher than most people would slot Monday on any day-of-the-week ranking list. But Mondays do have some redeeming value. They always hold out the promise of a solid, enjoyable week ahead, and I always start them well. Sometimes they really are the vanguard of a happy five days. But sometimes they aren't. So you never know what you're going to get with Monday, which is why I can't trust it with a ranking any higher than #5.

#4 - Sunday

It is with a guilty conscience that I rank Sunday in the middle, because Sunday is when we go to church and that's supposed to be the highlight of my week. Sunday morning definitely ranks right up there for me, but Sunday afternoon and Sunday evening? All I do is think about my responsibilities and appointments for the week to come, which really defeats the purpose of a weekend. Sunday is lucky I put it as high as #4 on this list.

#3 - Wednesday

That Geico commercial about a camel on Hump Day makes me laugh. And that's all I really need to say about Wednesdays.

#2 - Saturday

I realize Saturday is the calendar equivalent of Nirvana for most people, and I like it, too. But you know what happens to me around 6 p.m. every Saturday? I start thinking, "Oh man, the weekend is already mostly over and I haven't accomplished anything. And tomorrow is Sunday, which means I have to spend it getting ready for Monday." *SIGH*." It's a sad, lonely existence I lead, really.

#1 - Friday

I would never force you to listen to that "Friday" song by Rebecca Black, but I do offer the option of a link, should you choose to subject yourself to it. Fridays are life-defining for me. I am, for whatever reason, hugely productive at work on Fridays. I enjoy almost every Friday night one way or another. And my standards have fallen so far that I actually thrive on the experience of wearing jeans to work on "Casual Fridays." There is virtually no downside to Fridays, which is why I crown it The Champ among days of the week. For what that's worth.

Finding the line between "live your life" and "do what's best for your health"

From the outset, I should establish that I don't believe a fun life and a healthy life are mutually exclusive things. You can (and should) have both.

But there's no denying that, at least for me, a healthy life sometimes means making certain sacrifices and prioritizing my time in ways I might not otherwise.

As an example, let's take the gym-going habit I developed nearly a year ago.

When I started lifting last June, you could find me in the gym five days a week without fail. And it undoubtedly made a difference, to the point that my chest, arms and shoulders are now somewhat bigger, which means some of my button-downs and pullovers are harder to get on than they used to be.

It's a good problem (and a very healthy habit) to have.

But there are downsides to a five-day-a-week gym routine, again, at least for me. They include:

• Sometimes getting less sleep than I really need because I have stuff going on the night before I work out
• Perpetual soreness
• A higher risk of injury and less chance to recover

To that last point, in the past year I have sustained injuries at the gym to my shoulder, back, forearm and foot. All were lifting-related, and while all probably could have been avoided with better form, the fact is they happened and they didn't heal quickly.

That was probably because I kept on going to the gym five days a week and never gave those muscles a chance to heal themselves.

Then I cut back to four days a week of lifting, and now sometimes I'm at three. And voila, as I type this, I'm suddenly injury-free!

Who knew?

When it comes to diet, we all have to decide what we're willing to do to maintain a reasonable weight without being in constant self-denial. Few people can get by without indulging in less-than-healthy treats from time to time.

You have to decide what "from time to time" means for you, though, and what potential long-term health consequences you're willing to accept in exchange for the happiness that extra piece of cake or the double cheeseburger bring you.

As I mentioned recently, you and I each have an expiration date, and we can only push it out so far. As Colin Hay, one of my favorite singer-songwriters, puts it: "Nobody gets a sequel, no, everyone gets shown the door."

I think a lot nowadays about these tradeoffs. Maybe it's because I have a grandchild on the way. Or maybe I'm at an age when everyone starts to look ahead to whatever is left of this life, which for me should be at least a few more decades, though you never know.

Pick a philosophy and stick to it. Find your balance. Then go and live your life the best you know how, even if the final number of years you live isn't as long as it could be.

That's the best advice I can give you.

I'm living in the lap of luxury...or laziness, it's hard to tell

We don't have a hammock, but the point is, if I wanted to sleep while Nick our lawn guy cuts the grass, I could.

When Terry and I bought our first home in 1992, I was by default in charge of lawn maintenance, snow removal and leaf clean-up. These traditionally masculine roles fit me well, and I took some pride in keeping a relatively well-maintained lawn and a clear winter driveway.

Fast forward to 2025, and my how things have changed.

I now have a guy (Nick) who mulches my flower beds in the early spring, cuts my grass all summer, and removes my leaves in the fall.

I have another guy (Jeff) who plows my driveway in the winter, leaving only some light shoveling to do around the entryways to our home.

It's not that I can't physically do these things anymore. I can. It's a combination of not wanting to do them and having the discretionary income to pay someone else to do them.

It helps a lot that Nick is very good at what he does, and that Jeff is thorough and reliable whenever winter storms smack us in the face. If they did their jobs poorly, I might rethink my decision to outsource all of this work.

As it is, though, I'm fortunate to have access to skilled, responsible help that makes my life a lot easier.

Not that I really need life to be that much easier. mind you. I'm ridiculously blessed, and I'm of a socioeconomic demographic that benefits inordinately from the system.

You don't have to be wealthy to have it as good as I do. Just lucky.

Still, I'm waiting for the day when my manly pride gets the better of me and I tell Nick, "You know what? I don't need you anymore. I'm going to go back to cutting the grass and raking up the leaves myself. Thanks for your service."

When that happens, I give it one, maybe two lawn mowings before I'm on the phone asking whether he can work me back into his schedule.

I hope I continue to realize how good I have it.

I give more thought to scheduling my vacation days than NASA gives to manned space missions

When you add up my vacation, personal days and floating holidays, I have something like 19 days of leisure to play with in 2025.

That's probably fairly typical of a white-collar professional of my age. Some people (particularly those with many years of tenure at their companies) have much more, others have much less. But that's what I have.

While I find it to be pretty generous, I realize I'm looking at this through very American eyes. Those in other countries tend to have more off time – often considerably more – than we do. I'm so conditioned to our system here that if you gave me the Scandinavian treatment and granted me six weeks off a year, I wouldn't know what to do with myself.

In any case, those 19 days are what I have, and I give careful thought as to how I use them.

And to be clear, I do use them. All of them. As I've written before, I don't understand those who leave paid holidays on the table.

• Right off the bat I know I'll burn a week's worth in late July for our church's annual Bible school/retreat at Slippery Rock University. It's a highlight of the year for us and a non-negotiable expenditure of off time (even the recovery day I'll take after we get back).

• As I mentioned last week, we just recently scheduled a trip to Brazil. It's a Wednesday-to-Wednesday thing, but one of those days is a holiday, which means I only have to use five off days. Good deal.

• I also burn a day every spring on high school track PA announcing gigs. I'm announcing five meets this spring over six days in April and May. Some of those are weekdays, with meet start times all in the range of 4pm. That means I have to leave the office around 3pm to make it to the track and get myself prepared before the announcements and event calls begin. Total those early departures across the spring and it means I need to burn a personal day to ensure the company and I are square. Again, that's fine.

I already used one vacation day this year when Terry and I went to Florida in early February to visit Jared and Lyndsey. Add up that day, plus the track announcing day, plus five days for Brazil, plus the six days I take for Slippery Rock, and we're down to just six days to use throughout the rest of the year.

Here's where you have to have a strategy. Do I hold onto them just in case something happens? Like, when Chloe's baby is born, will it be during the week, and will I want to burn a day or two to spend with her and my grandchild at the hospital? Maybe.

Do I want to take off 5-6 days in late December so I don't have to work at all over Christmas and New Year's? Possibly.

Or, rather than using most of it at one time, do I instead enjoy a series of three- or four-day weekends in the summer and fall, as I wrote last August?

These are all legitimate questions, and while I've certainly given them due consideration, I've not yet reached any decisions.

I've said this before, but I think the planning and anticipation of vacations is as much (or more) fun than the vacations themselves. I can't wait to see how this all goes.