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Growing up in the ’80s, I was a huge Celtics fan. With the (original) Big Three in their prime, the Celtics were perennial playoff contenders, winning three championships. But the end of that decade brought heartache for 13-year-old me when Red Auerbach traded my favorite player, Danny Ainge, in February 1989. Given to displays of teenage melodrama, I, along with my best friend, swore off the Celtics forever. I followed through for a while too because teenage me could also hold a grudge.
I couldn’t stay away forever though. After the Celtics drafted Paul Pierce in 1998, my feelings started to thaw. Pierce was fun to watch, and so I started to tune in again. Then a miracle happened: in 2003 the Celtics hired Danny Ainge to run the front office. Things came full circle, and I could fully enjoy watching the Celtics now that Danny was part of the team again.
It turns out that as good a three-point shooter as Ainge was, he is an even better executive. In 2007, under his leadership, the Celtics pulled off two of the best all-time trades, acquiring Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen. Along with Paul Pierce, the era of the (new) Big Three began! They wasted no time, winning the championship in 2008. Pierce’s passion, Garnett’s fire and leadership, and Allen’s accuracy all combined to bring about one of the most satisfying championship celebrations I’ve ever seen. These talented three had been chasing a championship throughout their careers, and their joy at finally winning it all was infectious.
In the 10 years since the Celtics raised that banner, this past season’s team has been one of my favorites to watch. Their improbable run almost right into the Finals, all while their two biggest stars were sidelined with injuries, is a testament to the superior coaching of Brad Stevens and the tenacity and talent of the players.
In 2018–2019, the Boston Celtics will once again be chasing a championship, presumably with Kyrie Irving and Gordon Hayward leading the charge, along with an embarrassing amount of young talent—at least for now. With Danny Ainge running the front office, there’s no telling what blockbuster trade might come next. My older, much less melodramatic self has learned to go with the flow, and enjoy the ride. Go Celts!
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When I was younger, I always dreamed of being a pirate or a knight. When I discovered the sport of fencing at age 8, that dream came true.
There are three different types of fencing: foil, epee and sabre.
In foil, the target area is only the torso, and you must hit with the point of the weapon (there’s a little button that gets pressed in, it’s not sharp!). There are also special rules called “right of way” to determine who gets the point if both people hit.
In epee, the target area is the whole body, and you must hit with the point, but there is no right of way—if both people hit, they both get a point!
In sabre—the weapon that I fence—the target area is anywhere waist up, including the head! Like foil, the right of way rules apply, but unlike either of the other two weapons, you don’t have to hit with the point of the weapon. You can hit with the side of the blade, which makes it seem more like the fencing you might see in Pirates of the Caribbean.
After fencing for 13 years, I’ve had the opportunity to travel across the country for national tournaments, compete for an NCAA team, and meet Olympians. Fencing is a thrilling and unique sport that you can start at any age. Try it!
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In my recently found passion for pre-Colombian cultures, I went to visit Chichén Itzá, a world famous site of Mayan ruins in Yucatán, Mexico. The site hosts one of the largest surviving stone courts where the Maya once competed in a ball game sport called Pok-A-Tok, derived from the Yucatec Mayan word pokolpok.
The court at Chichén Itzá measures 551 feet long and 230 feet wide—about twice the size of an American football field— with surrounding walls that are 26 feet high. Teams of two to three players competed by using their padded elbows, arms, knees, thighs and shoulders—but no hands—to bounce a solid rubber ball through an inverted stone hoop in the center of the wall. The ball, ranging from the size of a softball to a soccer ball, could weigh up to 20 pounds.
Can you imagine how challenging it must have been to throw a 20-pound rubber ball through a 20-foot-high hoop without using your hands? According to my guide in Chichén Itzá, the feat proved so difficult that modern men were unable to replicate the game in the stone court!
Image credit: Diego Delso
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One of my best friends and I are constantly taking part in the time-honored tradition of using rock-paper-scissors to make decisions. All either of us needs to do is hold up a fist—the universal sign to engage in a game of rock-paper-scissors.
Even in the professional world the game is sometimes used to make decisions: In 2005 Sotheby’s and Christie’s auction houses were asked by their potential client to compete in a game of rock-paper-scissors to decide who would handle the sale of a multi-million-dollar art collection. In the end, Christie’s choice of scissors sliced down the competition.
Of course, not everyone uses this game to make choices. For some, it’s purely recreational—children on a playground often play the game to pass time. For others, it’s a sport—the members of the World RPS Society compete professionally (believe it or not) for the title of champion. The society, originally called the Paper Scissors Stone Club, was formed in 1842. The club existed as a space where members could enjoy the game with only their honor at stake. In 1918, the headquarters for the club were moved to Toronto, Canada, and the name was changed to the World RPS Club, then again in 1925 to deem it a “society” to reflect its growing membership.
To this day, the fans of the game hold championships around the word, and it’s not only honor that’s at stake. Championship purses can total thousands of dollars. At one tournament in Las Vegas in 2006, the prize was $50,000! When there’s that much on the line, the top professionals develop techniques to recognize and counter their components’ playing patterns (and in doing so, win the dough).
Some players enhance the tournaments through the addition of costumes and code names. One player, called the Midnight Rider, plays wearing a mask. Another player calls himself Master Roshambollah—eponymous of roshambo, another name for the game.
In 2007, rock-paper-scissors was so popular that the finals for the USA RPS League Championship in Las Vegas were aired on ESPN2. The finalists, Jamie “Landshark” Langridge and David “The Brain” Borne, held their epic battle within the confines of a miniaturized boxing ring. In the end, the shark beat the brain.
Think you have what it takes? Test your skills of predication here.
Did You Know?
Sitcoms love putting their own twist on the traditional options of rock-paper-scissors. In a Friends episode, Joey insists “fire” beats everything, until Phoebe releases a “water balloon.” On The Big Bang Theory, Leonard, Sheldon and gang often leave decisions to “rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock.”
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I realize this is the time of year when those of us in winter weather areas should be preparing for snow by pulling out the shovels from the far corners of the garages we never got to cleaning out this past year—although we promised we would. I have to admit, while most are caught up in preparing for winter’s weather and the season’s many celebrations, I’m still basking in the warm glow brought about by my Boys of Summer.
And by “Boys of Summer,” I, of course, mean my Chicago Cubs. And by “Chicago Cubs,” I mean the 2016 World Series champions.
You may recall, in the fall of 2015, I wrote a blog post about the surprising success of the Cubs, the team identified as the owners of the longest championship drought in professional sports history. Although they made the playoffs that year, they couldn’t keep the momentum going to get past the National League Championship Series.
But this year—THIS year—they put on a show of talent and grit that raised the eyebrows of sports fans as they dominated their division and their opponents and most facets of the game on the way to their first World Championship in 108 years. The team in blue pinstripes that has let me down for the past 59 years finally—FINALLY—came through and won it all. I shared that moment of joy and relief with friends and family who had suffered alongside me, and I still replay highlights of that glorious Game 7 when the Loveable Losers became losers no more.
It’s been over a month since the Cubs came back from a 3–1 game deficit to beat the Cleveland Indians in a series that had something to please every fan of the game. And while snow is starting to gather on some ball fields previously covered in dust and chalk and sweat, Cubs nation is still reminiscing about a different season—baseball season. That final third-to-first out from Bryant to Rizzo presented the long-suffering and much-deserving fans of Chicago Cubs baseball with the greatest gift of all—their dreams actually coming true.
So go ahead with your preparations for and celebrations of winter. For me, those will just have to wait a little longer while I replay the dream-come-true of one spectacular summer.
Did You Know?
The number 108 held great significance in this year’s World Series championship. It had been 108 years since the Cubs last won the Series. There are 108 double stitches on an official Major League baseball. Before this year’s championship appearance, the Cubs had not won a World Series game since 10/8 back in 1945. The left and right field corners of Wrigley Field, home of the Cubs, are 108 meters from home plate. And the principal business of the Ricketts family, new owners of the Cubs, is located on South 108th Avenue in Omaha, Nebraska. And—believe it or not—this paragraph is exactly 108 words. It’s fate!
Image credit: Arturo Pardavila III
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When I was a young hockey player in Pennsylvania, there was no doubt, hockey had been started in and belonged to Canada. I recall playing in tournaments across the Midwest with my Midget A Major team, The Mt. Lebanon Hornets. At times there would be chatter about the opponents, “Yeah man, I hear the team we’re playing Saturday is Canadian.” After a statement like that, fear would enter the locker room, because we would be playing a team that was assumed to take a bit more pride in their game, a team that was more than likely going to light us up on the scoreboard. As it happened, we beat many of those Canadian teams, but a few definitely showed us that there should be no question that hockey belongs to Canada, by the way they dominated all 200 feet of the ice rink.
But is hockey actually Canada’s game? Recent research shows that the validity of Canada’s claim on the origins of ice hockey may not be so soundproof. In the book, On the Origin of Hockey, by Canadian author Jean-Patrice Martel and Swedish authors Carl Gidén and Patrick Houda, the claim is made that the first unorganized games of ice hockey were played in England, not Canada. An excerpt from the book states, “Montreal is where the first organized game took place, in 1875, so it is really the only date that matters. But then you look at England, and all of a sudden there are hundreds and hundreds of references to hockey being played all over the country—some dating back to the 1790s.” England is not the country I would have expected, but given their rich history and cultural influence, it should not come as too much of a surprise. To question things further, consider sports that inspired the current game of hockey. These include the game of shinty, which originated in Scotland, as well as the game of hurling, which originated in Ireland.
Regardless of who or what started ice hockey, I believe it’s safe to say that the sport truly belongs to Canada now, due to the population’s notable dominance and love of the game. Still, it’s interesting to learn how many countries and peoples influenced the great sport of ice hockey. Maybe knowledge of this information would have calmed my nerves in the days I was still sporting a black and gold jersey with a massive cartoon hornet patched on the abdomen. Just maybe.
Did you know?
Hockey played outside of North America utilizes an entirely different ice surface size for games. This rink size is referred to as an Olympic rink, and provides players with more open ice to skate with, typically decreasing the amount of physicality that can take place during play.
Photo Credit: Ralf Roletschek
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Most people and events that gain a permanent spot among those we remember and honor are recalled because of the incredible accomplishments achieved, challenges overcome or substantial benefits made available to our country and world. Examples include Jesse Owens at the 1936 Olympics, Jonas Salk and the development of the polio vaccine, and the United States landing a man on the moon.
Unfortunately, many people and events are remembered because of the complete and utter failure involved in people’s actions or their poorly executed ideas. These “epic fails” have achieved an almost folklore-like status in our history. “Honorees” on this list include the Ford Edsel automobile, Harold Stassen’s nine failed presidential campaigns, “New” Coke and Kevin Costner’s dialect coach in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.
One prominent entry on this second list has to be the Chicago Cubs baseball team, known for not winning on such a grand scale that they have become the loveable mascot to people who perennially support the underdog. They won back-to-back World Series championships in 1907 and 1908, but have since only appeared in one World Series in 1945, a year in which the world had more important things on its mind. That means for their 100+ total seasons (since 1903, if you start counting when they officially became the “Cubs”) they have been losers over 98 percent of the time (or—if you prefer a positive perspective—they have been winners almost 2 percent of the time in a league where, currently, each team technically has just over a 3 percent chance of winning).
For the last 58 years I have been a Cubs fan. Since my first trip to Wrigley Field at age 5 until today (less one recent year when I just couldn’t take it anymore), I have been a stalwart fan. There are many Cubs fans just like me. For us, the call “Wait till next year!” is more a warning than a cry of hope. We start anew each April with a new team and a new lineup, but by early July it becomes painfully evident (once again) that we’ll experience the “agony of defeat.” This is the way it has always happened.
Until now.
It’s September, and the Cubs—yes, the CUBS—are on their way to the playoffs. Most likely they’ll gain entry to the postseason as a Wild Card team, but who cares about meaningless labels? It’s the playoffs! Something must have happened with new ownership, a new general manager and much new talent that has brought the team to the brink of success. In just a few short weeks we’ll know whether or not this magic alignment of the planets has been enough to carry them over that brink to victory. I’m staying positive and checking scores every day, getting ready for what could be my once-in-a-lifetime moment, where a World Series win by the Chicago Cubs could change the arc of human history forever.
Or . . . till next year.
Go, Cubs!
Did You Know?
The first ballpark informally called “Wrigley Field,” was located on Catalina Island, just off the California coast. The island was owned by William Wrigley Jr., who used the location as a spring training facility. During the regular season the Cubs played their games at Weeghman Park in Chicago. Weeghman Park was renamed Wrigley Field in 1926.
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Full disclosure: While I can call myself a golfer, I am not a good golfer. I know the rules of the game, and I understand the overall objectives. After playing for almost thirty years, I can eventually get the ball to do what I need it to do, and I’ve made some great shots, but like most amateur golfers, I can’t make those great shots on a consistent basis. Still, I play on. And although Mark Twain supposedly once described golf as “a good walk spoiled,” days on the green have become a very special time for me.
I didn’t grow up in a golf environment, but now I live in serious golf country in Dublin, Ohio, home state of the legendary Jack Nicklaus. Even as I write this blog, the pros—including Woods and Mickelson and Spieth—are teeing off just a mile from my home in the first round of Nicklaus’s annual Memorial Tournament at the Muirfield Village Golf Club. I’ve been to the tournament and watched the best in the world display their incredible (and consistent) skills just minutes from my front door.
Unlike the four major professional sports in the United States—baseball, football, basketball and hockey—golf is not played against other players. While each player needs to score better than the others in order to win, there’s no real defense out on the course trying to block your putts or intercept your drives. And while the other sports are played in front of cheering—sometimes screaming—fans, golf is a quiet game, punctuated by an occasional cheer or high five after an exceptional drive or well-read putt.
Golf has also been referred to as “gentleman’s game”; in amateur golf, you keep your own score and call your own penalties. There’s no striped-shirt referee on the course watching your every move to call fair or foul when appropriate. (That’s not to say we amateurs won’t occasionally employ poor counting skills or a discreet tap with a foot to improve an otherwise difficult ball position.)
One of the highlights of my year is my annual trip to Tampa, Florida, where I gather with college friends I’ve known for over 40 years to share a long weekend of golf. Each February for the past 22 years, we’ve shed our winter layers and picked up our clubs to enjoy Florida’s warmth, share our stories (career, family, health), trade the same bad jokes and play a little golf. Years ago, we would play six rounds in four days. Do the math: 18 holes per round times 6 rounds equals 108 holes; 108 times 4–5 (or even 6–7) strokes per hole equals over 500 strokes over the course of those four days. We now acknowledge our age (and aching backs and shoulders and knees) and have pulled back to four rounds in four days, saving around 150 strokes (as well as our backs and shoulders and knees).
On these trips, golf is not just a game; it’s also the mechanism by which we gather together and keep our relationships strong. The play on the course is less important than the camaraderie and conversation shared long after the scorecards are tallied and spikes cleaned off. After 22 years of playing golf with these guys, I’m not sure that my golf is getting any better—but I know my connections with these friends gets stronger every year. We’ve already lost two members of the group’s original eight, and in the coming years we’ll most likely lose others. But until we have our tee times on that Great Golf Course Up Yonder, we’ll continue our annual treks to Tampa to play a game we love with the teammates we love even more. And despite how Mark Twain felt about the game of golf, our annual “good walk” (or cart ride) is anything but spoiled.
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I just graduated from college, and I can guarantee that at least half my classmates were sometimes more concerned with how the football team did than with whether they could explain the thematic convolutions in Great Expectations or find the rate of flow through a wire suspended on the surface of a four-dimensional plane. (I knew that calculus class would pay off someday.) It’s expected that students will sometimes prefer to go out partying, stay home and relax, go to the game, even clean the house—rather than do their homework. However, there is a growing concern that universities themselves are absorbing this “fun stuff first, academics second” attitude, and that it’s costing their students.
The main culprit, according to some sources, is athletic spending. The 2013—14 annual report of the American Association of University Professors (AAUP) shows that most colleges and universities increased their total spending on athletics programs in the last few years, even accounting for inflation, but cut back spending overall. In many cases, that extra money was taken from university public works projects and research funding, although there are also plenty of universities where academic funding was cut to make ends meet. The problem is particularly prevalent not in National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) Division I universities, but in Division II and III schools seeking to use a refurbished athletics program to attract a larger student base, and thus to collect more tuition fees. The problem with this strategy, of course, is that with a larger student base comes a greater need for academic resources of all kinds—which a smaller school is hardly in a position to provide.
On the other hand, there are claims that it is not athletics that represents the greatest unnecessary drain on university resources, but administrative costs. Where in 1975 there was 1 administrator per 84 students, now the ratio is 1 to 68; from 1 professional staffer per 50 students, there is now 1 per 21 students. Universities rely on heavier administrative staffing than they used to, in part because professors no longer take on administrative jobs when not teaching, and so dedicated staff is required to keep institutions running on a day-to-day basis. James Joyner suggests that more administrators are needed because as state and federal funding decreases, universities rely more heavily on individual professors acquiring grants to continue their research, and the paperwork involved in securing and keeping track of funds from a wide variety of grantors requires a greater amount of attention than the professors themselves have to spare.
I’d like to see the greatest amount of university funding go to supporting professors and student resources designed for academic success. However, I also understand that as a degree has become more necessary for even an entry-level job, universities need to find ways to stand out to their potential students, and athletics is a good way to gain attention. Administrative costs also necessarily rise with a rising student population, although I agree that the administration of some colleges has grown out of proportion to the size of the student body. In the end, I hope that universities, like their students, can find a good balance among all the vying elements that require their attention.
Did You Know?
Of the 228 athletic departments at NCAA Division I public schools, 23 are self-sufficient. These include departments at LSU, Nebraska, Ohio State, Oklahoma, Penn State, Purdue and Texas, all of which do not subsidize their athletics programs. Instead, the programs are responsible for their own costs, allowing these universities to allocate funding elsewhere.
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