Life's Moments

Everybody reflects on the year at year's end (or maybe should).  I know I do.

I've figured out that life isn't a big picture sort of thing.  It's more like pieces that when assembled constitute the whole.

Another way of looking at it is like a painting.  It really isn't the final product as much as each individual brush stroke.  Hopefully when you step back and look at it, you see a masterpiece.

But life can't be looked at as a whole.  It's the parts.  It isn't the broad strokes.  It's a collection of small moments.

When we're in it, when we are living this life, we even have trouble looking at the big picture.  Try as we might.  We can't see how the little things add up to the whole.

We can't see how the little decisions lead us to bigger conclusions.  We can't see how important those little things are at the time they're going on.

Like the time when your teenaged daughter opened up about the meaning of life while you sat at the foot of her bed.

Any time a grandchild walked in and screamed your name. 

When you all got stuck in a downpour and were soaked to the bone and yet finally saw the humor in it and everybody got the giggles. 

A shared sunrise, where no one says a thing but each knows what the other is thinking.

A much needed hug for a broken heart.

So you take a hundred vacations and the one everybody remembers is the one where it seems everything went wrong.  But then, why do you remember that one?

A buddy and I drove to and from Colorado on a bike trip a couple of years ago.  You know what I remember about the trip out?  The obscene burrito that my buddy ate at a truck stop somewhere in New Mexico.  It was awful.   He loved it.

And the trip back?  I remember driving in the middle of the night and we're in the middle-of-nowhere Oklahoma and find a Motel 4 (that's no typo) for a few hours sleep.  You got a bed (small), a towel, and a bar of soap at Motel 4.

So looking back at 2015, what comes to my mind?  

Times with grandchildren.  Mostly time in the pool.  The Christmas Train last weekend.  Ice skating on Market Square.  Movie night.

I remember meeting a guy on a distant beach that I will probably end up doing business with.  Our initial encounter was sitting under a cabana, looking out at the ocean.  Our next encounter was in his conference room in Nashville.

I remember lots of laughing in the football coaches office at MHS.  And walking out with the team through the stands on Friday night.  Good times in the training room with the student trainers.  And Josh and Drake.  They always seemed to be in there.

Maybe there were some hiccups along the way but in the big picture, 2015 was a great year.  But good riddance 2015.  Hello 2016!

Winning Doesn't Make You a Winner (Losing doesn't make you a loser)

The Carolina Panthers are 13-0 and Cam Newton is winning hearts all across the country.

The Alcoa Tornadoes won another state championship in impressive fashion, holding the previously potent CPA to -1 yards of offense in the second half and to .7 yards per carry for the game. 

The Maryville Red Rebels came up just one game short of a perfect season, picking a bad night to have a bad night.

Same thing for the Greenback Cherokees who overcame a lot of things (coaching change, playing against private schools with lots more resources) to make it to the championship game.

Heritage's football team, under Coach Tim Hammontree, was much more competitive than in recent years.  They competed with each and every opponent, going toe-to-toe with pretty much everyone on their schedule.

William Blount came to play every night. 

All this leads up to my oft-repeated mantra that sports are life lessons.  The scoreboard doesn't tell the whole story.

I'm going to quote my friend and MHS football coach David Ellis here a bit but first, let me give you just a little background.

Every year, Coach Ellis puts an offensive line on the field that is a cohesive unit.  Fundamentally sound, his squad gets the job done.  Each and every year. 

This year that unit featured a 5'7" 190 pound right tackle (Josh Wall) and a 5'9" 175 pound center (brother Jacob Wall) alongside gargantuan guards Lakin McCall and Wes Ferguson and long and tall left tackle Harper Rose.

Not exactly your prototypical offensive line but maybe typical of MHS and Coach Ellis.  Maybe more of the type that it doesn't matter about the size of the dog in the fight as much as the fight in the dog.

Now back to that winning and losing thing.  Quoting Coach Ellis:  "Losing on the scoreboard doesn't mean you're a loser just like winning on the scoreboard doesn't make you a winner."

David Ellis is more concerned with building good young men than he is in building outstanding football players.  He wants to build good fathers, husbands, sons.

He defines football success as

1.  How good a teammate you are

2.  How good a practice player you are

3.  How coachable you are

Isn't that what makes good fathers, husbands, and sons?  If your team is your spouse or your family, isn't it important to be a good team member?  Shouldn't you do your best every day?  Doesn't it seem a good idea to listen to those that have your best interest at heart?

Coach Ellis is a pretty special guy.  He's the kind of guy that you want your son to play for (mine did).  

Nicknames

Sports are filled with great nicknames.

Air Jordan.  Magic Johnson.  The Mailman (Karl Malone).  Wilt "The Stilt" Chamberlain.  Pistol Pete Maravich. 

The Say Hey Kid (Willy Mays).  Frank Thomas is "The Big Hurt."  Shoeless Joe Jackson.  Charlie Hustle (Pete Rose).  Dizzy Dean. 

The Assassin (which wouldn't be tolerated today).  William "The Refrigerator" Perry.  Deion "Prime Time" Sanders.  Our own Reggie White who was The Minister of Defense.  "The Bus," Jerome Bettis.

When I was growing up, lots of people had nicknames.  I never really did.  Oh, a couple of guys switched the first letters in my name and came up with Bloe Jack.  I didn't like it much.  I think it was Lackie Jefler that did that.  Or maybe Wordo Gatson.

Thank goodness it didn't stick.

There seems to have always been Bubba's.  At least in this part of the country.

We don't seem to have nicknames so much any more. I can't think of many at all. 

I guess there's my biking buddy Emil who we sometimes call "The Cuban Flash" but he's not Cuban (he grew up in Puerto Rico then Miami) yet he is certainly fast on a bicycle.

My son has a nephew called Trey (he's the third to carry his name) and his own son is the second but "Deuce" doesn't seem to have stayed with him.  We are more likely to call him "Buddy" than anything else.

It seems to sort of stopped with my generation.  A lot of the people I knew growing up had nicknames.

Snake Watson.  His brother Baldy Watson who, I don't believe, is bald yet.

Jam-Up White who was legendary in baseball (which makes his nickname have some reason I think). Inky Swiney.  Red Greenway (who may have been red at some time in his life but was bald for all of mine).  Greasy Grimes, who I don't remember as being either greasy or grimy.

There was Little Bill Miller and Big Bill Miller, neither of which was big at all.

Some whose last name escapes me.  Like Frog, the janitor at the high school.  And Hambone.  There were a couple of Bulldogs.  And at least one Bones. 

I knew a Jughead.  We had a Maybelline whose name wasn't that at all.  I think it was because she wore too much makeup.

So I'm gonna suggest some new nicknames.

How about "Ice Man" for Jalen Myers  He certainly plays like it.

And "Streak" for Kelby Brock.  That's about all you see of him.

T.D. Blackmon doesn't need a nickname.  He's got one built in already.

Maybe we can start a trend here!