A Time to Play Through

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I was searching online for instances of tragedy among teammates where surviving team members have to find the resolve to continue without a fallen comrade. Death is a part of life to be certain and yet the loss of a teammate always seems awfully untimely. So then the advice begins streaming sounding much like pithy sayings and speculations about what the deceased would want. “He’d want us to go out there and compete,” we say. Actually, in all my experience of playing on sports teams I never lost one teammate to death. But I’ve lost friends to gang warfare and disease. And I’ve heard the same admonishments. Play on in honor of the fallen.

The funny thing is that with all of its hackneyed familiarity, I believe people now when they say, we’ve got to go on because that’s what ____________ would want us to do if he were here. The Cincinnati Bengals’ Chris Henry is gone and no one will ever know what his wishes were for his team at this point in the season. Henry was taken from this world at only 26 years old. The Bengals are two wins away from securing a playoff birth and I said to myself while watching Sportscenter, “Would I want my team to stop competing because I died?” The answer was easy. No! I’m like everybody else who spent formative years honing a craft and trying to win as an expert within that realm. If I died prematurely and had access to team members from beyond I’d say, “Go to work. Do what you’re trained to do.” Death is a grim reality. And it’s not so much unnatural as much as it is jarring because of its abruptness. It shocks and disrupts but if we honor the life of those who once flanked us, we’ll demonstrate it by Playing Through.

Not afraid to divide

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If pluralism is a modern watch word, Bobby Knight stopped watching years ago. He’s actually a nice person but anyone who has met him knows that “nice” doesn’t mean blindly cosigning for the status quo that has come to define the culture of NCAA basketball. Coach Knight, who won 902 games as a Division I college basketball coach, recently pulled no punches while giving a speech in Indiana where he is the very emblem of hardwood greatness. He takes the kind of shots most people are afraid to unless doing it anonymously on a blog. Some who know him say his outspokenness caused his tenure at Indiana University to time out prematurely but whatever the case, he’s not afraid to be a lone voice.

Regardless of coach Knight’s criticisms, today he’s made statements that challenge coddling, cheating and deference to economics. His message is not a platform, just plain Bobby Knight. He’s not a one man agenda but then again he is because of who he is. In spite of imperfections that the media has no problem reminding us of, coach Knight has spoken up even when it meant indicting personal acquaintances. The Bible speaks, in a much different context, of the world arriving to a point where even close kin are divided because of “The Truth”.

At day’s end, one thing I learned from playing basketball whether on the floor or on the bench was that you can’t be afraid to divide. You can wander far from sports to watch documentaries on various subjects and see that the power to transform culture lies in the courage to be divisive on behalf of truth. An example was when I recently saw the documentary Food, Inc. that brings to light the health dangers facing American consumers because farmers are being forced to produce genetically altered food. The movie ends with an appeal to consumers to essentially revolt by buying Organic when possible. The point is, neither gray hair nor assimilation makes the world more virtuous. The courage to be a lone voice on behalf of singular truth is what contends against a world riddled with shortcuts.

NBA @NBAplayers…we’re following you too

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Tweet yes or no if you’re a professional athlete who’s been busted by your respective association or league for “Tweeting” before, during or after a game. Hold on. That could cost $7,500. If you’re at the arena, put your phones away. The NBA has cracked down along with the NFL on players using the web networking service Twitter to update their followers with untimely or inappropriate content about their professions. The most recent citation in the NBA was issued to rookie sensation Brandon Jennings of the Milwaukee Bucks for Tweeting: “Back to 500. Yess!!! “500” means where doing good. Way to Play Hard Guys.”

I could hear the veteran sages like Rasheed Wallace (Celtics) now addressing the newbie, “Tisk tisk young gun. Don’t you know you can’t Tweet until after the press have had access to you? Oh well, tough luck youngster; let that be a warning to you. Oh and Merry Christmas. Welcome to professional basketball.”

When I heard of players like “Ochocinco” (Chad Johnson) of the Cincinnati Bengals tweeting I thought it could be disastrous for him given his erratic and wild antics. But then I heard that other young players like the Miami Heat’s Michael Beasley had tweeted some pretty personal things about his emotional state that may have revealed a real bout with depression and allowed friends to reach out to him. It’s reported that Beasley entered rehabilitation soon after the tweet in reference.

Bottom line is that I’m for adaptation where Twitter is concerned. If a superstar garners fans and communicates with them in a way that could offset the occurrence of stalking I’m all for it. Or if a player shares his elation with the modern, distant fan base which often sees him as nothing more than entertainment, I’m down with that as well. The NBA’s image is at stake, no doubt which accounts for the aggressive monitoring of athlete’s musings in cyberspace. But I thought the league was for grown men. They can earn more money in a year than most will in a lifetime but can’t be trusted with Twitter. I’m not that old but in my day being irresponsible came with consequences. In the adult world, having choices is all that separates us from childhood. Viva the Tweet to those adorned in your favorite team’s uniform.

A lesson from Chris Henry

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Cincinnati Bengals receiver Chris Henry died early this morning from injuries suffered after falling from his fiancee’s truck bed. Apparently Henry and Loleini Tonga had been having a domestic dispute prior. The sports journalists will cover the details of this tragedy similar to how they did when Steve McNair was murdered on July 4, 2009 by his mistress. But for our purposes I’m more saddened than anything because Henry was 26, had been injured for 5-weeks and was probably beginning to appreciate an NFL career that was in jeopardy.

And I wonder if Henry, in recent weeks, was concerned about his career statistics and game logs. I can’t help but surmise that when you suffer an injury as he did breaking his forearm several weeks ago that you contemplate losing something you love. It’s a menacing thought that keeps you awake and drives peace far from you. Then the epiphany surfaces and inverts all that you treasure as an athlete – the money, iconic status and perhaps even the feeling of invincibility.The revelation that life is bigger…becomes tangible.

I admit I didn’t know who Chris Henry was before today. He played football for the Bengals who drafted “Ochocinco” (Chad Johnson) of all people. They also employ former USC Trojans Carson Palmer and Rey Maualuga. But when a player meets his end at 26 years old, you suddenly want to know everything about him. Did he perceive that life was bigger than himself? It’s not a criticism. Death is serious business and I was shocked to find of his. I can only imagine that the loss of a teammate is harrowing because it all usually happens so fast. But if there’s something to be learned here, perhaps it’s a heightened sense of our mortality. Even our heroes are vulnerable to death as the Roman poet Horace uttered these words: “Pale death knocks with impartial foot at poor men’s hovels and king’s palaces.” My hope is that people would stop flirting with inevitable eternity and apply further study to the subject.

LA Clippers’ Baron Davis Intervenes via the Screen

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Though I never joined a gang in the Inglewood/Los Angeles neighborhoods in which I spent the first 14 years of my life, they played a large role in my decision to pursue and idolize basketball. Two-time NBA All-Star Baron Davis (Verso Entertainment) in collaboration with director Stacy Peralta, produced his first feature documentary, Crips and Bloods…to bring attention to the roots of the very real gang problem that faces African American youth. To see the interview in which Baron talks about the film visit http://www.pbs.org/kcet/tavissmiley/archive/200905/20090512_davis.html

Check out an extended excerpt of Davis’ gripping documentary  to see how, perhaps, an entire demographic becomes fooled by the either-or fallacy that  life choices include “either crime or athletics.” WARNING: THIS FILM HAS GRAPHIC FOOTAGE OF VIOLENCE AND PROFANITY. PLEASE VIEW WITH DISCRETION.

The NBA Owes Money to Grandparents

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Kendrick Perkins (Boston Celtics), Anfernee (Penny) Hardaway (former NBA star), Baron Davis (Los Angeles Clippers) and even legendary Phoenix Suns star and current mayor of Sacramento Kevin Johnson were all raised by grandparents. There’s a phenomenon among professional basketball players of being born to parents incapable of providing for them. The list of reasons for this range from the inexperience of teen parents to abandonment and beyond. I shouldn’t even speculate.

At any rate, I’ve read excerpts and full length articles that make cursory references to the grandparents who foster life lessons and opportunity for some of the NBA’s most prominent stars. My skills never landed me an NBA contract but after recently losing my paternal grandmother to esophagus cancer, I reflected on how important she was to my drive, my locus of appreciation for family and the will to fight in the face of exhaustion.

As I continue to process the loss of my “Nana” I can only imagine how important the grandparents of the aforementioned superstars must have been. Unlike the men I mentioned, I was not raised solely by grandparents. I had a loving mother growing up who worked extremely hard to “connect the ends” so-to-speak. But it’s no mystery why a man like Baron Davis feels that he owes Lela Nicholson everything. She positioned him for success he now enjoys. The biography of an athlete who calls a grandparent “mom” or “dad” normally illustrates less than ideal circumstances inclusive of but not limited to sub par housing in a neighborhood replete with crime and poverty. There’s often but one buffer separating the future NBA star from the paradigm of a survivalist, resorting to illicit forms of lucrative assent. Mrs. Nicholson was the buffer for Davis the same way Betty Coulter was for me. On the other side of the tracks you better have more than your parents telling you where the most traveled paths lead.

As I thought about the stories I’d read about basketball players and other athletes who have had the blessed intervention of grandparents, I thought with pseudo piety, “Where the heck are the parents? I bet they came running when Jr. made it to the pros.” But then I realized that perhaps my musings were fodder for a separate discussion or at minimum a blog of a different day. What matters is that the family bears tremendous significance in society and because of the layers within it, lives are saved and men who should sell crack become mayors with altruistic commitments to the communities they serve.

Moss’ Missing Piece

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You’re thinking Shel Silverstein. Hey, you can read him on your own. I’m talking about Randy Moss, the future Hall of Fame Wide Receiver currently of the New England Patriots. Last week Moss’ “Case of the Mondays” lasted all week culminating with perhaps his worst performance as a Patriot.

He and four other players were sent home from practice last week for arriving late to a team meeting. Then on Sunday, Moss was accused of quitting by opposing players. Moss was limited to one reception despite playing in all but four offensive plays throughout the entire game. He also had a fumble and those who saw the game said he failed to run routes full speed.

Like everyone else on the west coast who’s exposure to Moss was a brief lack luster tenure with the hapless Oakland Raiders, I’ve always wondered what makes Randy Moss so good at times and invisible at others. I thought he lacked work ethic but his teammates say that couldn’t be further from the truth. So what’s the chink in his armor that led him to Sunday’s dismal performance? With all due respect to his athleticism, I think Moss is one of many elite athletes who have been partially developed.

Randy Moss, Vince Young (Tennessee Titans) and Glen “Big Baby” Davis (Boston Celtics) have played at levels that reveal an extremely high I.Q. for their respective professions. Nevertheless, they have had mental/emotional breakdowns in front of booing fans. They are a meager sampling but could be indicators of an incomplete training philosophy that has become the ineffective rule for how athletes are prepared to compete at the highest level. The “rule” is a method of training which is extremely strenuous complete with 100+ degree temperatures, 90 percent humidity and a NO EXCUSES environment. But the rule is invariably trumped as seasons progress and non-physical strains rear their ulgly heads.

How come the Sand Sprints, the burning muscles from resistance circuits and the daily off-season bouts with dehydration seem to sell many pros short? Professional athletes have one job – PERFORM. But despite having access to the most current research and technology for preparation, these super humans still sputter at the rebuke of a coach who says, “Go Home. You’re late and we don’t tolerate late.” The toughest, fastest and gifted of men are showing signs of sensitivity to criticism that derail the very thing they’re paid and supposedly equipped to do. What’s missing?