I’m 6’4” but of no use to anyone on a basketball court. Any team with me on its side would be doomed to failure because basketball and I go together like Jon Hamm and Kim Kardashian.
It’s not that I don’t like the sport, because I do believe it’s one of the better ones. It takes skill, it’s physical and it’s one that provides plenty of excitement to watch or play.
Growing up and watching Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Kareem Abdul Jabbar, Karl Malone and Charles Barkley in the prime of their careers was akin to a thousand Jeremy Lins or Lebron James today. I even bought a pair of Michael Jordan Nike shoes with my first real paycheck, as I liked him enough to do so.
Part of the reason I’m no good at basketball is because I’m a naturally clumsy person. I need to practice a lot to acquire the right balance to be just adequate at anything, and I’ve never practiced basketball to the extent most others have. My wife will attest to my clumsiness, as she got a good chuckle last week when I attempted to ride my son’s scooter and I flipped it and myself over during a walk.
But the main reason I’m no good at basketball, despite my height, is I never fully understood the game. I was never on a team, so I never learned the fine intricacies of the sport. Fouls confuse me, as do other rule violations. I can’t tell the difference between a well-played game and a sloppy, what-are-rules one.
Over the years I’ve tried to educate myself more about basketball. But playing “Double Dribble” on the original Nintendo Entertainment System doesn’t work well in those regards. I’m usually successful when I get myself in a mindset to learn about something more, but basketball truly stumps me.
As a result, when March Madness rolls around, I cross my fingers that bracket seedings are somewhat accurate because the majority of my picks are based on which team has the higher seed. I don’t want to be the guy that picks more wrong games than right ones, and someday I’d like to win a pool to at least claim back a little of the money I’ve spent on them over the years.
This past weekend, my son, Braden, received a portable basketball hoop from his grandmother and aunts for his seventh birthday. After putting the thing together with some help (as they are almost more complicated than the sport itself), I promptly missed nearly every basket I attempted. I was worse than Marquette in the first half of its game against Murray State Saturday. I do hope they improve in their coming games, as I picked them to win it all in the work pool.
Braden, on the other hand, was hitting every shot like it was second nature to him. His aunts on his mother’s side were both good basketball players in high school, so maybe he inherited some skills I never received. I’m hoping he inherits my height, because combining the two could be good for Stevens Point basketball in the not-so-distant future.
If he isn’t, I’ll completely understand. One more awkward basketball player isn’t going to hurt anyone. Unless he’s clumsy, accidentally knocks someone over on the court and prevents a future star from ever playing again. I’m almost sure I never did that, but my memory isn’t always the best. I’ve flipped over on a lot of scooters, bicycles and skateboards in my life.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette Friday, March 23, 2012.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Reality show klutzes steal dream of ‘Finding Bigfoot’
The green-eyed monster inside of me has been itching to come out because some dudes have found a way to make money at a career I didn’t think was possible. I’m referring to the four Sasquatch searchers on Animal Planet’s “Finding Bigfoot” television show who are making mad money looking for a creature I had hoped as a kid I could spend my adult life finding.
I was obsessed with Bigfoot as a kid, most likely because I watched a lot of “The Six Million Dollar Man” whose epic battles with the creature defined my television viewing experiences in the 1970s. While Steve Austin may have revealed Bigfoot was actually an alien android, I wasn’t quick to fall for that theory. I agonizingly studied any book I could find on the subject, and watched everything on television about it. Plus, I saw “Harry and the Hendersons” three times at the theater, instantly making me the world’s foremost expert on the legendary beast at the time.
Set on being a Bigfoot hunter (a term I use loosely because I could never bring myself to harm one should I find it) as a kid, I figured I simply needed to move to the West Coast states when I got older and then spend my days in the woods searching for it. I assumed some college education in science would give me enough ability to track it, and the government would be happy to pay me to do so.
Others pointed out the government would never pay anybody to search for Bigfoot, so I should give up this unachievable dream. The government certainly pays for less worthy endeavors, I thought, but as I got older, I realized these people were probably right. I then turned my attention to becoming a journalist and columnist, probably so I could write about these foolish goals. I do get paid to do so, but probably not much more than I would have as an unpaid Bigfoot hunter.
Over the years, my once undying belief in Bigfoot has disappeared. I’ve asked myself one question: In today’s technological world in which nearly everyone has camera and video camera abilities through their smartphones, why hasn’t anyone captured definitive proof of the beast? Go on YouTube and search for “Bigfoot.” With one exception, all you will find are horrible videos that all appear fake, blurry or distant.
The one exception is the 1967 Patterson-Gimlin video. This video is the famous one almost always shown during Bigfoot documentaries. While nobody has been able to prove it’s definitely authentic, no one has also demonstrated it’s fake.
Whether or not it’s real, it’s definitely better than anything those bozos have filmed on “Finding Bigfoot.” The three men on the show are all big believers in Bigfoot, some having encountered it before they began the show. The female on the show is the skeptic, who argues against nearly everything they bring forth as proof.
The weekly show follows them as they go to known Bigfoot sightings to investigate. They talk with the witnesses and then go to the location it was spotted. They recreate the scene for the witnesses, and use the recreation to determine if they did indeed spot Bigfoot.
At night, they return the scene to see if the creature will return. Using night cameras, some of which are equipped with heat sensors, they attempt to find the beast. Often they’ll make Sasquatch calls, some of which they claim are returned. Once in awhile they’ll point out night noises as coming from possible Bigfoots in the area, and sometimes they claim something is throwing rocks at them, because apparently Bigfoot has nothing better to do.
In the end, they leave believing they’ve uncovered enough evidence to claim Bigfoot was in the area. Viewers, like me, think otherwise.
Then again, I’m probably too jealous. Why didn’t I think to grab a camera and take to the woods at the start of the reality television boom to pursue my former dream? Back then, nearly everyone who proposed a reality show got one. These guys did well at the end of the boom.
I guess I should have been a little smarter. Then again, I’d like to think Bigfoot is really an alien android sent to Earth to spy on humans. It would definitely have the capability to avoid my clumsy pursuit.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, March 24, 2012.
I was obsessed with Bigfoot as a kid, most likely because I watched a lot of “The Six Million Dollar Man” whose epic battles with the creature defined my television viewing experiences in the 1970s. While Steve Austin may have revealed Bigfoot was actually an alien android, I wasn’t quick to fall for that theory. I agonizingly studied any book I could find on the subject, and watched everything on television about it. Plus, I saw “Harry and the Hendersons” three times at the theater, instantly making me the world’s foremost expert on the legendary beast at the time.
Set on being a Bigfoot hunter (a term I use loosely because I could never bring myself to harm one should I find it) as a kid, I figured I simply needed to move to the West Coast states when I got older and then spend my days in the woods searching for it. I assumed some college education in science would give me enough ability to track it, and the government would be happy to pay me to do so.
Others pointed out the government would never pay anybody to search for Bigfoot, so I should give up this unachievable dream. The government certainly pays for less worthy endeavors, I thought, but as I got older, I realized these people were probably right. I then turned my attention to becoming a journalist and columnist, probably so I could write about these foolish goals. I do get paid to do so, but probably not much more than I would have as an unpaid Bigfoot hunter.
Over the years, my once undying belief in Bigfoot has disappeared. I’ve asked myself one question: In today’s technological world in which nearly everyone has camera and video camera abilities through their smartphones, why hasn’t anyone captured definitive proof of the beast? Go on YouTube and search for “Bigfoot.” With one exception, all you will find are horrible videos that all appear fake, blurry or distant.
The one exception is the 1967 Patterson-Gimlin video. This video is the famous one almost always shown during Bigfoot documentaries. While nobody has been able to prove it’s definitely authentic, no one has also demonstrated it’s fake.
Whether or not it’s real, it’s definitely better than anything those bozos have filmed on “Finding Bigfoot.” The three men on the show are all big believers in Bigfoot, some having encountered it before they began the show. The female on the show is the skeptic, who argues against nearly everything they bring forth as proof.
The weekly show follows them as they go to known Bigfoot sightings to investigate. They talk with the witnesses and then go to the location it was spotted. They recreate the scene for the witnesses, and use the recreation to determine if they did indeed spot Bigfoot.
At night, they return the scene to see if the creature will return. Using night cameras, some of which are equipped with heat sensors, they attempt to find the beast. Often they’ll make Sasquatch calls, some of which they claim are returned. Once in awhile they’ll point out night noises as coming from possible Bigfoots in the area, and sometimes they claim something is throwing rocks at them, because apparently Bigfoot has nothing better to do.
In the end, they leave believing they’ve uncovered enough evidence to claim Bigfoot was in the area. Viewers, like me, think otherwise.
Then again, I’m probably too jealous. Why didn’t I think to grab a camera and take to the woods at the start of the reality television boom to pursue my former dream? Back then, nearly everyone who proposed a reality show got one. These guys did well at the end of the boom.
I guess I should have been a little smarter. Then again, I’d like to think Bigfoot is really an alien android sent to Earth to spy on humans. It would definitely have the capability to avoid my clumsy pursuit.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, March 24, 2012.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Kids may want to become president, but parents will probably tell them ‘no'
Several weeks ago, on Presidents’ Day, my nearly 7-year-old son, Braden, told me he wanted to be president when he grows up.
At first I was proud of this statement. It showed me he was ambitious and was driven to be the best. Like him, I had similar thoughts when I was his age. Such noble goals helped drive me to success in school.
But then I thought about it some more. Why would anyone in his or her right mind want to ascend to a position where approximately half the people in the country don’t like you? And a good chunk of those people not only don’t like you, they despise you with a passion, refusing to give you any benefit of the doubt and criticizing every action you make without any acknowledge of the ones you do right.
When I was a kid more than 25 years ago, presidents seemed to receive a lot more respect than they do now. The detractors were there, as they should be in a well-functioning democratic society, but their voices didn’t drown out everyone around them.
Turn on any of the news channels and watch coverage of the president. It’s rarely unbiased, as depending on the channel it’s either heavily skewed against the president or heavily weighted in his favor. Neutrality in news coverage has disappeared.
Even worse, read online comments to news stories about the president. It’s easy to pick out those who back the president and those who don’t like him, as the passion of both is easily discernible. Constructive comments are quickly dismissed by both parties, even though they might carry more validity than the strongly biased comments.
Braden isn’t eligible to become president for another 28 years. The environment’s change in hostility toward the president in the past 25 years makes me fear how bad it will be in another quarter century. If I’m still around, I wouldn’t want to watch as people throw hatred his way, simply because they don’t agree with some of his politics.
This hatred is one of the reasons I rarely turn on news channels or read online stories about politics. The subject manner interests me, but its presentation has turned me away.
Reasonability needs to take precedence once again. Until it does, I don’t want my son to become president.
In fact, I’d rather have him become a garbage collector. Once a job associated with dirt, hard work and little intelligence, it’s now a well-respected and well-paid profession people rightfully now appreciate.
I would think the same type of appreciation would apply to the U.S. president, as the ability to handle that job far exceeds what nearly all of us are capable of, despite what some of us might think.
I gave up my presidential ambitions well before I got to junior high when I realized the amount of public speaking it would require. Most of us know statistics show most people would rather die than have to speak in public.
Maybe by showing a little appreciation for the president’s speaking ability we can start to bring some neutrality back and make it noble again for kids to want to be president.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, March 9, 2012.
At first I was proud of this statement. It showed me he was ambitious and was driven to be the best. Like him, I had similar thoughts when I was his age. Such noble goals helped drive me to success in school.
But then I thought about it some more. Why would anyone in his or her right mind want to ascend to a position where approximately half the people in the country don’t like you? And a good chunk of those people not only don’t like you, they despise you with a passion, refusing to give you any benefit of the doubt and criticizing every action you make without any acknowledge of the ones you do right.
When I was a kid more than 25 years ago, presidents seemed to receive a lot more respect than they do now. The detractors were there, as they should be in a well-functioning democratic society, but their voices didn’t drown out everyone around them.
Turn on any of the news channels and watch coverage of the president. It’s rarely unbiased, as depending on the channel it’s either heavily skewed against the president or heavily weighted in his favor. Neutrality in news coverage has disappeared.
Even worse, read online comments to news stories about the president. It’s easy to pick out those who back the president and those who don’t like him, as the passion of both is easily discernible. Constructive comments are quickly dismissed by both parties, even though they might carry more validity than the strongly biased comments.
Braden isn’t eligible to become president for another 28 years. The environment’s change in hostility toward the president in the past 25 years makes me fear how bad it will be in another quarter century. If I’m still around, I wouldn’t want to watch as people throw hatred his way, simply because they don’t agree with some of his politics.
This hatred is one of the reasons I rarely turn on news channels or read online stories about politics. The subject manner interests me, but its presentation has turned me away.
Reasonability needs to take precedence once again. Until it does, I don’t want my son to become president.
In fact, I’d rather have him become a garbage collector. Once a job associated with dirt, hard work and little intelligence, it’s now a well-respected and well-paid profession people rightfully now appreciate.
I would think the same type of appreciation would apply to the U.S. president, as the ability to handle that job far exceeds what nearly all of us are capable of, despite what some of us might think.
I gave up my presidential ambitions well before I got to junior high when I realized the amount of public speaking it would require. Most of us know statistics show most people would rather die than have to speak in public.
Maybe by showing a little appreciation for the president’s speaking ability we can start to bring some neutrality back and make it noble again for kids to want to be president.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, March 9, 2012.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Skating rinks haven’t changed much in 20 years, even without ‘YMCA’
It’s been more than 20 years since I last stepped foot inside a roller-skating rink, and with several minor exceptions, they haven’t changed a bit.
The rink itself is still wooden, although I skated on a concrete rink at one now long closed in Hancock, and the walls all on the outside are still lined with cheap carpet to cushion those crashes.
One side still acts as the loading and unloading dock where skaters enter or leave the rink. For reasons I can’t comprehend, this dock is one step higher than the bay, providing one more way for those with less balance to fall.
The lounge area leading up to the rink is still filled with a variety of vendor games. Some of these games are the same – air hockey and skee-ball will always remain classics. Traditional arcade games such as “Pac-Man” and “Donkey Kong” have been replaced by lesser skill games in which people can win tickets that can be traded for cheap carnival-type prizes.
The food stand still sells licorice ropes, popcorn, hot dogs and any other type of inexpensive and easy-to-make food that provide a high profit margin for the rink owners. Surprisingly, the prices aren’t nearly as bad as one might expect, especially when compared to the same items at a movie theater. A large box of popcorn at the roller-skating rink sells for $2, whereas the same box at the theater costs a house mortgage plus a pledge that half the money you leave behind when you die will go directly to Hollywood to finance the 17th installment of the “Twilight” series, which will still contain some of the worst special effects ever seen. But, hey, Edward will still be better than Jacob.
The same horrible music still plays as people skate, although I’m not sure if I admire or admonish the deejay for not playing “YMCA,” which I had fully expected to hear at least six times while I was there.
The biggest changes are the ramps in the middle of the rink – an awesome addition I’ll never go near – and the allowing of rollerblades and scooters on the rink. The last time I was at a rink rollerblades were relegated to the parking lot outside. And scooters were still skateboards with a pole handle.
I was at the rink in Wisconsin Rapids because my son, Braden, was invited to a double birthday party there for several of his classmates. It was his first experience skating so I stayed to show him how, not quite certain I would even remember myself. To my relief, my balance memory was intact and I was able to concentrate on helping him rather than myself.
The experience was a thrill we’ll return to soon. Next time, though, I’ll come dressed as a construction worker in anticipation “YMCA” will make its triumphant comeback.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, March 2, 2012.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)