I just remembered something my dad used to do for me that I loved

Earlier this week I had a post here describing how I used to play board games by myself as a kid whenever my friends weren't around.

It reminded me of another gaming activity I used to do solo that was a lot of fun, and it was thanks to my dad that I ever did it in the first place.

Like a lot of sports-minded kids in the late-70s, I owned the Mattel "Classic Football" electronic game pictured above. It was extremely primitive compared with the Madden football video games of today, but to us it was great and I never tired of playing it.

One time my dad drew up a bracket involving all 28 NFL teams (at the time) in a single-elimination tournament. He did it by hand on a sheet of paper. I can still picture his distinctive left-handed writing in which the various first-round match-ups were laid out (Dallas vs. New England, Minnesota vs. Houston, Cleveland vs. San Diego, etc.)

My job was to play each game of the tournament on the Mattel device and write down the result on the tournament bracket. Over the course of a few days I could play all of the games and determine a "champion."

Being a budding Cleveland sports fan, I wanted desperately for the Browns to win the tournament, so I would admittedly play a little harder whenever I was representing them.

But just like real life, no matter how much I tried, some other team always won out in the end. It was never my guys.

Dad created similar tournament brackets for me on several occasions, and it infuriated me once when, despite my best efforts, the hated Pittsburgh Steelers won my little electronic simulation.

To my credit, though, no matter how much I didn't like it, I always accepted the result of each game however it turned out. No do-overs or anything like that.

Now, from a distance of 45 years, I realize not only how much fun I had playing out these tournaments, but also how enjoyable it probably was for Dad to set up the brackets for me whenever I asked. 

It was a time-consuming task, I'm sure, and he would have been perfectly justified to say he simply couldn't do it. But he never said no.

What a great dad he was to me. I miss him.

One good thing about social media is that you can find your tribe(s) more easily than ever

For all the bad that social media has wrought in our society – and man, there is a lot of it – one area in which it seems to have fulfilled its potential is connecting us with our personal communities.

The Internet is really good at helping us find people with common interests, hobbies, jobs or otherwise defining characteristics.

Whatever you're into, you can bet there are a lot of other people who are into it, as well. Whether it's stamp collecting, gardening, genealogy, crafting, travel, the music of John Denver, or even something as self-damaging as rooting for the Cleveland Browns, it's simple to find folks who occupy (or want to occupy) the same niche as you.

I am, for example, a member of two Facebook groups for sports public address announcers. We share our experiences, seek and offer advice on sound gear, complain about team rosters not being listed in numerical jersey order (a cardinal sin that all coaches and athletic directors should avoid), and even debate the pronunciation of words such as the "libero" in volleyball.

For the record, I use the common American pronunciation of that word: li-BEAR-oh. But there are many who adhere to the European pronunciation: LEE-bear-oh. I love and respect these fellow announcers, so it pains me to have to inform them how wrong they are.

The point is, while social media has created or exacerbated real societal issues, it's at least good at helping us find others with whom we share something in common.

That's not to say this didn't happen in the pre-Internet age. Not at all. Hobbyists have been meeting together for centuries in clubs and societies.

But it was a little more difficult back then to seek out the members of your tribe. You had to reach each other through some common and non-electronic means of communication, whether it was an ad in a newspaper or magazine, or a notice pinned to the bulletin board at the public library.

It happened, but it didn't happen nearly as efficiently and rarely at the same scale it happens today.

The next time you complain about these kids and their damn phones, understand that sometimes, those phones are their only connection to people who "get" them.

Even if getting them involves wearing brown and orange on fall Sundays and supporting the Browns...something I can say from years of personal experience you should never do.

Sports remain a big part of my life but don't mean as much to me as they used to...which is just fine

One way or another, I find myself watching or attending sporting events all the time.

Some are cross country meets, where I get to see my son Jack compete. Others are soccer and volleyball matches I'm announcing, or football games where the Wickliffe Swing Band performs at halftime.

And of course there are the professional sports teams here in Cleveland whose games I will occasionally listen to on the radio or watch on TV.

The key word here is "occasionally."

For various reasons, as I approach 52 years of age, sports have changed for me in two important ways.

One is that I don't "do" pro sports to the level I once did. This is not so much an intentional decision as it is a function of a busy schedule and the fact that weekends are often devoted to catching up on the stuff I missed during the work week.

I know many people who have walked away from pro sports for political reasons. I absolutely respect their decision, but I am not one of them. My lack of engagement is just a lack of time.

Case in point: I'm typing this post early on Sunday morning, September 26th. My Cleveland Browns will take on the Chicago Bears this afternoon. I am almost certain I will watch zero minutes of the game.

In fact, do you know how many quarters of Browns football I have watched through the first two weeks of the NFL season? The answer is a fraction of one quarter. It's more accurately measured by the number of individual plays I've seen.

Again, this is nothing against the Browns, the NFL, or sports in general. I just have other things that are more important right now. (Trust me, I've been rooting for the Browns for decades and continue to be an ardent fan, as I am of the Indians/Guardians, Cavs, and my beloved Cleveland Monsters.)

Which leads to the other thing that has happened to me in recent years when it comes to sports: When I do manage to watch, I don't get as emotionally invested as I once did.

As Terry will tell you, I have been known to scream at the TV and at the world in general while watching a Browns game. Not so much anymore.

For one thing, it's silly to get worked up over a sporting event, particularly if it doesn't involve your child or a close friend. I am a big believer in the power of sports fandom to be a social connector and a fun hobby, but that should be the extent of it.

Writer Terry Pluto often tells fans never to let the millionaires ruin their day, and he's absolutely right.

Again, none of this means I'm no longer interested in sports. The sports section of the two newspapers to which I subscribe is the first thing I read every morning. And heck, I announce several dozen high school and college events every year. It's not like I can get away from them.

But I think about sports differently now. I have gone from the being the guy who could earnestly write about the nobility of sports fandom (you can read that blog post from December 2011 here) to someone who is maybe a bit better equipped to put athletics – professional or otherwise – into their proper perspective.

I'm not sure whether that means I've matured or am just a boring old person. Either way, I've got a family to spend time with and chores to do, man. Ain't nobody got time for the rest.

We're halfway through 2021: How does it compare with last year?

Much time and many tweets were expended last December saying goodbye and good riddance to 2020. And with good reasons, really, almost all of them having to do with a little thing called COVID-19 (you may have heard of it...it’s been in all the papers).

This was not only cathartic for a lot of people, it also put pressure on 2021 to be better. Much better. Having reached the halfway point of the year, here's what we can say about it:

Good Things About 2021 So Far

• We're "emerging from the pandemic," as the phrase goes. Cases, hospitalizations, and deaths are all down. This is undoubtedly great news.
• On Jan. 10th, my Cleveland Browns defeated the team from Pittsburgh in a playoff game. It is always encouraging to know that, at least occasionally, good wins out over evil.
• Celebrity deaths seem to be down from last year, I think? Not that celebrities' lives are any more valuable than any other lives, but if nothing else, we use them as barometers for how old we ourselves are. Last year it seemed like a movie star was dying every 24 hours.
• The U.N. declared this the International Year of Fruits and Vegetables. This designation is virtually meaningless, I know, but I eat a lot of fruits and vegetables and feel like they deserve their own year.

Bad Things About 2021 So Far

• We (and by "we" I mean Americans, though I think this is probably also globally applicable) still seem to be yelling at each other a lot and mistrusting each other and generally feeling smug and superior to those who do not happen to share our worldview. This may never go away, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be raised as a depressing, terrible thing, which it is.
• There are still COVID variants in many parts of the world, and while it's human nature to just want to move on and forget about the virus, many people can't. And you have to assume those variants are going to take root here.
• In that same vein, my daughter Melanie had the virus in January and still cannot smell. This doesn't seem to bother her in the least, but it bothers me.
• I know I'm not alone in this, but I ate way too much cake in the first half of 2021. My cake consumption needs to come down. (I tend to eat as much cake as I do fruits and vegetables. I don't think it balances out well.)

Here are the life lessons we should all learn from A Guy Named Blake

One of the fun storylines in my Cleveland Browns' playoff victory over the Pittsburgh Steelers this past Sunday involved a young man playing in his first NFL game.

His birth certificate says he is named Blake Hance. But to Cleveland football fans, he will forever be "a guy named Blake."

Hance, who played his college ball at Northwestern (which, I'll go ahead and say, suggests he's a pretty smart dude), was a member of the New York Jets' practice squad when the Browns signed him on January 2nd. The team was in need of a backup offensive lineman, and they liked what they had seen of Hance.

Blake didn't play in the regular season finale against Pittsburgh, but when backup lineman Michael Dunn went down with an injury against the Steelers the following week in the playoffs, in came Hance.

I saw him sitting on the bench earlier in the game and said to no one in particular in my living room, "Hance? I have no idea who this person is."

My unfamiliarity with him didn't last long.

Hance came in and played brilliantly, particularly when you consider it was his first-ever NFL game, and in the playoffs no less! He was a back-up to a back-up. No one would have blamed him if he had had some trouble handling Pittsburgh's vaunted defensive line.

But he didn't. He and his linemates kept quarterback Baker Mayfield fully protected throughout the rest of the game as the Browns recorded their first playoff win since 1994...and their first road playoff victory since the year I was born (1969).

After the game when he was being interviewed on NBC, Mayfield gave this now-famous sound bite: "A guy named Blake that I introduced myself to literally in the locker room before the game started up."

And a Cleveland star was born. There are "A Guy Named Blake" t-shirts for sale, the proceeds from which Hance is donating to the youth football program in his hometown of Jacksonville, Illinois. Hance has been doing all sorts of media interviews and will always be remembered for being one of the heroes in the win against the Steelers.

All of which is a great story, but there's more to it. Each of us should learn something from what Blake Hance did. In fact, I'll give you three things:

• "Next man up" is not just a sports cliche: Coaches and players use this phrase to suggest that even back-up players always need to be ready to play, because you never know when your number will be called. The same is true in business and in life. You have no idea what opportunities are going to be thrown your way. Much of the great stuff that happens to you will seemingly come out of the blue. What are you doing to prepare yourself for it? You have goals and ambitions. When the opportunity comes along, how are you making yourself ready to seize them? Seriously ask yourself these two questions.
  
• You don't want to hear this, but it comes down to hard work: By all accounts, Hance has worked hard in practice and in the meeting room during his short tenure with the Browns. However improbable it seemed that he would get into a live game, it was still a very real possibility. So he put in the work, both physical and mental. You have heard this before (to the point that it may not even register anymore), but you have to be willing to put in the work. That's just the way our existence on this planet works. If you don't work hard, your chances of success are minimal. A guy named Blake worked hard and it paid off.
• What Hance did is what professionals do: To me, the highest compliment anyone can pay you in your career is that you are "a professional." In sports, the implication is that even though you're playing a game for a living, you play it the right way. You take it seriously, and that shows in the way you prepare, the way you execute, and the way you carry yourself. I don't care what your job is. If you cannot say you approach your work as a mature professional, then it's time to step back and figure out why not. Blake Hance is the professional we all aspire to be.

Well done, young man.

It's Friday the 13th! Which means absolutely nothing

So I wrote the following short post about Friday the 13th and horoscopes, and then I went back and read it and thought it sounded patronizing and borderline rude.

Which really makes me the prototypical weenie perfectly suited to the politically correct 21st century, doesn't it? In our painstaking efforts not to offend anyone, we ultimately end up saying nothing. So I'll just let the post stand as is. But I'm wondering at what point I'll reach that "I don't care if this offends you" level of communication as I age. Because I'm really looking forward to that.

Then there's there: I dismiss those who believe in what I see as meaningless pagan superstitions and astrological psychobabble, yet every Sunday morning I go to church to worship an unseen God and remember a guy who said some profound things and was nailed to a tree for it 2,000 years ago. You could argue that I'm simply trading one superstition for another. I think you're wrong, but logically speaking, you could most certainly argue that.

I'll stop babbling. I just thought this one deserved a little context. Here's what I wrote:

____________________________________________________


I know you're a person with common sense, because you read this blog.

So I know the fact that today is Friday the 13th is meaningless to you. The date and day of the week have absolutely no effect on our individual fortunes, right? You know this, right?

Please tell me you do. And please tell me you don't read your horoscope and take it seriously. Please, please, please. I'll feel so much better about the world if I know you're not planning your life around someone's airy predictions based on your date of birth and the relative position of the sun or moon or stars or Pluto or whatever.

I just...I'd like to think we as a species have made some progress since the 15th century, and we know that stuff like this holds no water in terms of actually forecasting future events or understanding what each day holds in store for us.

Because if you do get nervous on Friday the 13th, I want to hug you in the most non-condescending way possible and say, "I have confidence in you. Really, I do. I know you know that none of this is real. Deep down, you know that to be true, right? Right? You're a bright and talented person. We need your help building a better society here in the fact-based world, so please come and join us."

I'll tell you what: If you do put stock in Friday the 13th and horoscopes and the possibility of the Cleveland Browns ever winning the Super Bowl, all I ask is that you just don't tell me, OK? Let's just pretend together that you don't think that way. I would greatly appreciate it.

10 ways I'm different now than I was 20 years ago

(1) I love coffee and wine. I used to hate coffee and wine. Especially wine. Now I regularly consume both. There is no logical explanation for this.

(2) I lost hair on top of my head. Most days I forget this is the case, because I don't regularly look at the top of my own head. Then I'll see a picture of myself from the back and realize, "Oh yeah. That."

(3) I'm more careful about using the brakes on my car so they last longer. A few $600+ brake jobs will do that to you.

(4) I no longer sincerely believe the Cleveland Browns or Cleveland Indians will win a championship during my lifetime. I used to hold on to this belief because I couldn't stand the alternative. Now I'm more honest with myself.

(5) I don't talk as fast. Or at least I don't think I do. I used to talk fast all the time. Maybe my brain is slowing down. Or maybe I'm just generally a lot calmer.

(6) I listen to a lot of classical music. Much like coffee and wine, I was never a fan until a few years ago. Who knows why?

(7) I not only don't need to have a lot of money, I don't WANT a lot of money. I've seen the problems money causes. No thank you. (Nor am I looking to be poor, either, mind you. Just comfortable. How about that?)

(8) Twenty years ago my worldview was limited to North America, as I had only visited various parts of the U.S. and Eastern Canada at that point (well, I guess I also spent a few hours in Mexico when I was 8). Since then I have visited Germany, France, the UK and China. It's amazing what spending time in foreign countries will do to your perspective.

(9) I don't wear glasses anymore. Nor do I wear contacts. God bless you, Guy Who Invented LASIK Surgery.

(10) The number of children in my house has exploded by 400%. This is more of a wonderful thing than I can even begin to describe to you.

Learning a dead language for no good reason

I'm teaching myself Latin. By reading a book. The book is called "Latin for Dummies." I'm doing it because I thought Greek would be too hard.

Everything in that first paragraph is true. Or, as our ancient Romans friends would have said, "Omnia in illa prima paragraph verum est." I think. My Latin isn't very good yet.

I do a lot of things that no one else would bother doing. Learning Latin from a book is one. Walking 17 miles to work is another. Rooting for the Cleveland Browns is yet another.

None of those activities has a useful purpose, which is why I do them. I remember useless stuff. I engage in useless pastimes. I think about useless things. I am completely useless (or again, as a native Latin speaker would say, "Ego sum prorsus inutilis.")

The problem I'm finding with Latin is that it seems to have little connection with English in terms of word order and verb conjugation. That's probably not entirely true, but I'm early in the learning process and my head is spinning trying to figure out stuff like cases and declensions.

"Latin for Dummies" tries its best to give you Latin phrases you might actually find useful, but that's the problem with a dead language: There are no useful phrases. I don't foresee running into one of the Caesars any time soon, so whatever knowledge I gain in this process is going to be gained for the sake of....well, knowledge.

This is an actual sample conversation offered up on pages 68 and 69 of "Latin for Dummies" (I am not, I assure you, making this up):


PATER (father):  Nepos noster uxorem cupit. ("Our grandson wishes for a wife.")

MATER (mother): Pater filio puellam aptam inveniet. ("His father will find his son a suitable girl.")

PATER: Era difficile fratri meo ubi coniugem filiae suae petebat. ("It was difficult for my brother when he was seeking a husband for his daughter.")

MATER: Sed fratris tui filia est non pulchra! ("But your brother's daughter is not pretty!")

PATER: Screw-us you-us! ("I disagree!") (NOTE: This last line is one that I may actually have made up.)


I'm trying to think of a situation in which knowing these sentences would be useful in any language.

Because that's the general problem with language instruction, isn't it? They teach you all kinds of vocabulary and phrases that are, like me, useless.

I took 14 years of French instruction. That's right, 14 years. Everyone in my school took it from 1st through 6th grade, then most of us continued on in middle school, and a dwindling number continued on through high school.

During my senior year, there were two of us (me and Michelle Dillard) who took the comically unnecessary French V. It wasn't even a class offered during regular school hours. I had to come in at 6:30 on Thursday mornings to take it (by myself...Michelle did it at a separate time) with Madame Whitehorn, a saint of a woman who put up with the 98% of kids who didn't care at all for French to enjoy teaching the 2% who did.

Anyway, I went on to take a few semesters more from the Jesuits at John Carroll University, who at least had the decency to offer up a native French speaker (Monsieur Aube, an aging and hilarious French-Canadian) to teach those of us who tested into 300-level French.

My point is, through all those years of French, I learned maybe four or five things that had any practical value. And by "practical value," I mean stuff I could actually use if I spent any amount of time in Paris.

The French textbooks refused to impart this type of knowledge on us. Instead, they focused on unrealistic classroom situations in which everyone asked for pencils, erased blackboards, and opened and closed doors and windows. And that was about it.

I spent nine hours in Paris once, and not once did I have a need to erase any blackboards or ask anyone for a pencil. I did open and close a few doors, but I didn't bother to inform the Parisians of my door-swinging intentions.

Here are five things that WOULD have been useful to know in French during my short time in Paris, had I figured out how to say them:

(1) "Wait, you're an old woman and you're going to stay here in the men's room cleaning while I stand over there and pee?"

(2) "Really?"

(3) "Because it's awfully hard to pee with you in the room."

(4) "I'm just saying."

(5) "I've missed the last train back to my hotel in London? Is there a particular patch of sidewalk where you would suggest I sleep tonight while I wait for the first train tomorrow morning?"

By the way, I was going to render one of those suggested French sentences in Latin, just to continue the ongoing joke and all. And I realized there was no way I would know the Latin for "pee," so I looked in a Latin dictionary. It turns out the word for "urinate" is "micturio." Finally, something useful!