OMG!

There was a week, not too long ago, when I was asked the same exact question.

By two completely different people.

“Do you believe in God?”

Now that’s a strange question to be asked, I said.

To myself.

I’ve made it 43+ years, so far.

And other than possibly a Rabbi in 5th or 7th Grade.

Or maybe both.

Or some solicitor knocking on my door.

I can’t remember being asked that question before.

I’m sure it’s happened.

But it certainly hasn’t happened twice.

In the same week.

By two completely different people.

It hasn’t happened by a friend that I’ve known for 25 years.

And then happened a day later.

By a girl I’d never met before, sitting next to me at a restaurant.

As for the answer to that burning question.

That answer would be yes.

I don’t know that I could say God is a big part of my everyday life.

Although I do say a prayer every night before I go to bed.

And I do look to the sky whenever life hands me lemons.

Before I try to make some lemonade.

Faith is a funny thing.

When you need it, you lean on it.

When you don’t need it, you don’t think about it.

When the University of Pittsburgh got bailed out by a last second foul on Saturday, I guarantee they said....

“THANK GOD.”

But when they committed an idiotic foul seconds later to lose the game, I guarantee they didn’t say....

“BLAME GOD.”

How is that possible?

Did God decide to help Pittsburgh?

And then seconds before it was over, He... or She picked up the real Universal Remote.

And moved onto the BYU game.

Same God, right?

I’m a big believer when it comes to believing.

Believing in whatever you gotta believe.

To get from point A to point B.

Especially to guide us through the tough times.

You.

Me.

Anybody.

Whatever you want to believe.

Whomever you want to believe in.

BELIEVE!

If you want to believe there is some grand master plan.

Believe it.

My friend believes it.

I got an email from him today.

He is well aware of the ups and downs in my life.

At one point, many years ago, we were very close.

Unfortunately life has drifted us apart from one another.

But thanks to a common interest in music.

And us both living on email.

We have managed to stay in touch.

Somewhat.

The last time we were together was a few months ago.

In New York.

We did a couple of nights of dinner.

A show.

Great catching up time.

And in that quality time he saw I was hurting.

So since then, his emails have come more frequently.

And more supportively.

Is supportively a word?

Well, it’s amazing what a little love will do.

His positive energy is enough to recharge any dead battery.

Even my dead battery.

And when I got his most recent email, it made me smile.

Again.

In that email he informed me...

“God only challenges those who can take it.”

Say what?

Now nothing against Bible thumpers.

But my friend is no Bible thumper.

Far from it.

I’m guessing the only other time he has referenced “God” to me was something like...

....”Oh My God she was hot.”

Not exactly Corinthians 4:27.

But he continued. 

“God has a plan.

“And it might not be our plan.”

“But he has a plan.”

Ok, keep going.

“I know that you use to work a lot of hours, more than you wanted but it was required as part of your position.”

“I know that you did not get to spend as much time as you would like with you kids and maybe this is God's way of helping you get back to really what is the most important in your life.”

“I know it is hard to argue with that right!”

“Stay strong and enjoy this time with your kids.”

OMG!

Where did this come from?

Was this a sign?

From above?

The message was perfectly simple.

The meaning was clear.

Don’t ever stray too far.

And don’t disappear.

No don’t disappear.

He ended this email, as he ends every email.

“God Bless”.

God Bless you too.

Twistin By The Pool

My wife is not much of a sports fan.

Sure, she likes to bet the coin flip in the Super Bowl.

But she doesn’t know who is playing.

And yes, she loves going to the ballpark.

For the nachos.

But she couldn’t name five current NHL players if you gave her 50 guesses.

Then again, neither could I.

Ok, maybe five.

Several years ago we went to Shea Stadium to see a Mets game.

And she brought a book.

And she read it.

Really.

Well, it was the Mets.

My wife has never claimed to love sports.

But she’s not afraid to give her opinion.

Exhibit A -- the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

I can remember her telling me in the early 90‘s that the Bucs will NEVER win.

Not as long as their logo is a guy with a feather plume in his hat.

In 1997, the pathetic Buccaneers, one of the worst franchises in NFL history, changed that logo.

From the plume to a pirate.

A white pirate skull with two crossed swords.

Five years later the Buccaneers were Super Bowl Champions.

Coincidence?

I think not.

Let’s be honest, you are just not getting that type of analysis anywhere else.

Wednesday night was a big night in my house.

For my son and I.

This was the night we got to fill out our NCAA Tournament brackets.

We analyzed the games.

And picked the teams we expect to win.

Ten minutes later we were done.

Normally I only join one pool.

But this year is different.

I signed up for the one I always enter --- $25 for a chance to win three billion.

Plus I joined one for a local radio station --- if I win I get a year supply of Lite Beer.

And pool #3 is a fundraiser for my son’s baseball team.

I figured I could sign my wife up to do that one.

Hey, it's for the kids.

But those picks were going to be all her.

No help from me.

Not that I’m a lot of help.

So she sat down at the computer and started clicking on games.

I think it is fair to say that she knows nothing about college basketball.

Maybe more like, absolutely nothing.

But when it comes to making picks for March Madness, that might actually be an advantage.

For example.

I can tell you Vanderbilt has made it to the tourney in four of the last five years.

She can tell you Gloria Vanderbilt made a great pair of jeans.

For those reasons, we both have them winning their first game.

I can tell you Jimmer Fredette is one of the most exciting players in college basketball.

She can tell you a number of the parents in her first grade class are Mormon.

For those reasons, we both have BYU going to the Great Eight.

I picked Kansas State because I like their coach.

She picked Kansas State because Kansas is the first name of the school.

And she heard Kansas has a good team.

Now we didn’t agree on everything.

I picked Belmont, because they hit a lot of 3’s.

She picked Wisconsin, because they make great cheese.

When it got down to the tough picks, she asked the tough questions.

“Is this men or women?”

“They have field goals?  I thought that was football.”

“Are turnovers good or bad?”

Ok.

Now let’s be honest here.

Even though I follow the games.

And one could possibly think I know a wee bit more about this topic than she.

There is a zero percent chance I’m going to finish ahead of her.

That’s a fact.

Somehow we both ended up with the same exact Final Four.

Ohio State.

Kansas.

Duke.

Pittsburgh.

Maybe that’s because they are the four #1 seeds.

Or maybe.

Just maybe.

Great minds think alike.

But she struggled with picking Pitt.

“Isn’t that a football town?”, she asked.

Yes.

Yes it is.

Now when it came time to pick the tournament winner, we both took our time.

I eventually flipped a coin and took Kansas over Ohio State.

She broke down the stats and saw that the Jayhawks average more points, more assists, more rebounds and more steals than the Buckeyes.

Advantage Kansas.

After all that, we both ended up in the same exact place.

I guess the lesson here is it doesn't matter how you get there.

As long as you know who makes good jeans.

And good cheese.

No House. No Rising Sun.

It looks like a movie.

A horror movie.

The images are surreal.

But they are real.

Too real.

The destruction is unconscionable.

One tragic scene more unbelievable than the next.

8.9.

The size of the earthquake that shook Japan.

But rocked the world.

The pictures we have seen are like no other.

No other we have seen.

Since Haiti.

Or the Indian Ocean.

Impossible to imagine.

To imagine the true impact of what we have seen.

Again.

Lives lost.

Thousands.

Maybe tens of thousands.

Cities washed away.

In seconds.

The power of the tsunami.

Creating scenes no one can comprehend.

Washing away everything.

Everything in its way.

Buildings falling.

Falling like they were built on popsicle sticks.

Cars looking like hot wheels.

But they were real.

This was real.

The image of a person.

A real person.

Waving a white flag.

Or towel.

Reaching out of the window.

From the highest point of what’s left of their building.

Looking for help.

Any help.

An image I won’t soon forget.

An image that reminds me of the past.

There are too many tragedies from the day of 9/11.

Too many tragedies to think of just one.

But when I think of the people at the top of the building.

Having no choice.

No choice but to surrender.

No choice but to give up.

No choice but to jump.

100 floors.

Or more.

That is more than I can handle.

Helpless.

We have all felt it.

We think.

But most of us have felt no such thing.

Not like what we have seen from Japan.

Their pain hurts.

Hurts us all.

Their hurt.

Hurts like no other.

But the hurt I feel.

I’m feeling from my home.

From the comfort of my home.

We can text to help.

And many of us have.

Like we did for Haiti.

And we will for someone else.

Earthquakes.

California has been waiting for the big one.

A big one came in 1971.  And 1989.   And 1994.

And it went.

It took lives.

It destroyed buildings.

But it went.

And someday, this too shall pass.

It may be another generation.

Another generation or more.

Another generation before these events become a part of Japanese history.

For now.

And for many years from now.

It will be present.

In the present.

But each day seems to bring worse news.

Worse news than the day before.

Reports of a thousand bodies washing up on shore.

Another explosion at the nuclear power plant.

Families left to wonder.

Wonder if they will see their family again.

I reached out to my friend.

Whose wife is from Japan.

She has spoken with her family.

And her family is safe.

Thankfully.

But not all stories end that way.

Many stories end.

End with the end.

If the Japanese people want to believe.

Want to believe this is the end.

The beginning of the end.

They have every reason.

For now, we have no way to understand.

To understand what has happened.

Or why.

Again.

March Badness

We are approaching the best time of the year.

Well, the best time of year to be a sports fan.

Ok, there are at least 35 “best times of the year” to be a sports fan.

But honestly, is there anything better than the NCAA College Basketball Tournament?

The Madness of March.

Well, nothing better in March.

And it is not just the basketball.

It’s the gambling.

Every March, most of us spend more time in a pool than Michael Phelps.

We pick like 500 games.

Played by schools we have barely heard of.

Played by players we have never heard of.

And we love every single tenth of a second of it.

Take last year.

Up until last March, my favorite Butler was Robert Guillaume.

But after last year’s tourney, how could you not love the Butler Bulldogs?

They put the OMG in Cinderella.

The same can't be said for my alma mater.

We have made the NCAA Tournament.

Twice.

And we have won.

Exactly never.

But for those forty minutes, actually eighty minutes, there was nothing better.

I’m not sure where basketball ranks on my list of favorite sports.

But in March, it’s #1.

I love the tournament.

I love the NBA.

And I certainly love watching my 12-year old son play.

It’s his team that is tough to watch.

We are one Amanda Whurlitzer away from being the Bad News Bears.

Or Bad News Bulls.

Ok, half of the kids are not so bad.

But half of our kids act like have never touched a ball before.

Never seen one either.

They play like they just fell out of the womb ten minutes before practice.

Sure this is “just” Rec League ball.

And winning is not the most important thing.

At least that’s what they want you to think.

But it is killing my son to be part of team that has more losses than Bernie Madoff’s rolodex.

One game was so bad, they made the scorekeeper turn the scoreboard off when we fell behind by 30 points.

With like five minutes left.

Really.

League rule.

Most teams don’t score 30 in a game.

And yet somehow we lost by more than 30.

....But wait, there’s more.

During a time-out of like game #5 or 6 this year, one of the kids asked the coach how many periods we were playing.

The coach responded with “seven-and-a-half.”

The boy thought that was cool.

And he also thought it was true too.

Late in another game, during a second half huddle, one of the boys said he had cramps.

And he wanted to know what to do.

One of his teammates responded, “eat more bananas.”

Makes sense.

I guess.

The coach told the boy “maybe you should come to practice more often.”

That made sense too.

During the two-month season, somehow we managed to win two games.

Back-to-back even.

During the middle of the season.

Now there are stretches where we look pretty darn good.

Those stretches usually last 4-to-5 seconds.

But if you watch closely, even that seems like an accident. 

I realize this will sound like the proud papa, but my son is definitely one of the better players on the team.

Now that’s not really saying much.

But we certainly believe that being “the star” on a bad team can still help his confidence.

But it doesn’t mean it will help his focus.

After one of our (many) losses, a few weeks ago. 

He notified me of a major foul he committed.

He wore his shorts backwards.

“No problem,” he reported.

“Did you know if you wear your shorts backwards and you get a wedgie, you can stick your hands in your pockets and get rid of the wedgie?”

Um.   No.

I did not know that.

I was hoping this season he would learn the 2-1-2 defense.

Or the pick and roll.

But hey, learning is learning.

Tomorrow is the playoffs.

And we qualified.

Thanks to those back-to-back wins, great attitude and amazing work ethic.

Oh and the fact that we paid the entry fee.

But either way, if we win, we advance to next week.

If we lose, the season is over.

Just like the big boys.