The Cubs aren’t good. Well, they’re good, but they’re not good good. They’re not 2016 Cubs good. The sooner we come to terms with that, the better. This team is going to disappoint us at some point, so we should just come to terms with it. Hopefully they’ll do it sooner rather than later.Attention Cubs: If – as I suspect – you’re not going to win the World Series, can you just fold now? Stop leading us along and making us think you’re all of a sudden going to remember how to play winning baseball on a consistent basis. Stop teasing us. It’s not going to happen, so just get swept by the Cardinals this weekend and put us out of our misery, okay?Remember Old Yeller? They could have let that rabid dog suffer, but instead they put it out of its misery. That’s the preferred course. Treat us like Old Yeller. Please! At least we’ll know. Not knowing is the worst.I started watching this Cubs team on Opening Day. I was in the stands with three of my kids when they shellacked Texas and things were looking up. Unfortunately, there’s 161 games after Opening Day, and many of those have been…uninspired.I’m not going to be able to write a post celebrating the magic of the 2019 season, so instead, here are a few things that remind me of the 2019 Cubs:Almost every Bruce Springsteen song ever. Sure, it doesn’t rhyme at all, and the lyrics are awkward and hard to remember, and rather forced, but the opening riff is promising. It builds, and it builds, and it builds, and, wait…where’s the payoff? That’s it? It’s over? It’s like a wave that never breaks.Cold French fries. Remember when we were hot and we were so good? Like the best thing ever. Now we’re cold. But don’t worry. Just heat us up and we’ll be just as good as we were before. Wait a minute. No, we won’t. We’ll never be as good as we were at the beginning.The 2016 election. Look, it’s clear on paper that we’re superior. And our opponents? They’re a joke. We’re barely even going to have to try. We can probably not even show up in Wisconsin and win. Let’s just play this thing out and we’ll be on top at the end. I don’t even know why anyone else is trying. What’s that you say? We lost?Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. At home we’re so good. We’ve got it all figured out and we’re on top of the world. (51-27) But away from home? In places like St. Louis or Cincinnati or Oz? We’ve got no damn clue. It’s like we’re doing something we’ve never done before. We’re lucky we even survive. (31-44)Non-alcoholic beer. It looks like it contains alcohol. It tastes like it contains alcohol. Maybe it even smells like it contains alcohol. But then you drink a bunch of those things and there’s no alcohol. Now just replace the word alcohol with wins.The original Bladerunner with Harrison Ford. Everyone says this movie is so good. Harrison Ford is one of the best ever. I can’t wait to watch it. A quarter of the way through: this is going to get better, right? Halfway through: just wait until the second half, you’ll love it. Three-quarters of the way through: It must finish strong. The end: Why the hell did I just waste so much of my life watching this crap?Painting a room in your house. I can’t wait to do this. It’s going to be so much fun. And just wait until we’re done. After painting starts: this is harder than it looks. What were we thinking? We should have left this to the professionals. Do we even know what we’re doing?Thanksgiving turkey. This is going to be so good. Well worth the wait. I just have to be patient and it’ll be totally worth it. Wait, why doesn’t this taste right? Why is it so tough? Doesn’t anyone know the right way to cook a turkey? It can’t be that hard, can it?The rear driver's side tire on my car. Every couple of weeks it's a little deflated. I put some air in it, it's back to where it should be, and I think, "Hey, maybe this time it won't deflate and will just keep on going." Then some days pass and it deflates.The Grateful Dead. We seem much better when you’re high!Ladies and gentlemen: Your 2019 Chicago Cubs!Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: The Years I Played BaseballPREVIOUS POST: The Problem is Guns
The Problem is Guns
The problem is guns. Too lethal. Too many. Too easy to get. To claim the problem lies elsewhere is either a willful refusal to accept reality, or an attempt to shift blame due to individual political or cultural beliefs based on an America that no longer exists, if it ever did.The gun violence death rate in the United States is 4.43 deaths per 100,000 people. With a current population of about 329 million people, that works out to 14,574 people per year dying due to gun violence. Or about 1 person every 36 minutes.4.43 deaths per 100,000 people. To put that in perspective, Afghanistan’s rate is 3.96. Iraq’s is 3.54. More people die of gun violence in the United States than in Afghanistan and Iraq (excluding armed conflict casualties), two countries that have been unstable for decades.More telling is the other extreme. Let’s look at other “civilized” countries. India, 0.73; Canada, 0.47; United Kingdom, 0.06; South Korea, 0.05; Japan, 0.04. We have ten times as many deaths by gun violence as Canada!The gun-loving (gun-humping?) segment of the population, and their apologists, have spent the past few days theorizing the problem could be anything but guns. Video games. Mental health. Bad parenting.No. The problem is guns.Americans spend $110 per person on video games per year. Japan spend $150. South Korea spends $125. Both of their gun violence rates are more than 100 times lower than in the United States.17% of Americans suffer from mental health or substance abuse disorders. Canada is at 15%. Japan 12%. South Korea 11%. If the U.S. had the same ratio of gun violence deaths to mental illness as South Korea, our gun violence death rate would be at .078, not 4.43.Bad parenting? That argument contends that not only do American parents suck, but they suck ten times more than Canadian parents. So the self-proclaimed greatest country in the world has somehow sent men to the moon, invented the internet, and mapped the human genome all while having parents ten times worse than our closest country? Some people really believe that?It’s nonsense.There’s one relevant statistic in which the United States leads the rest of the world: number of guns. For every 100 people in the U.S. there are 120 guns. More than one gun per person! The next closest country is Yemen with 52.8.With so many guns, and so few laws restricting who can get guns, it’s no surprise that a large number of guns end up in the wrong hands.Yes, it’s true that a gun can’t kill people. But people with guns kill people. That’s why we give soldiers guns. We don’t send guns to war. We don’t send soldiers to war. We send soldiers with guns to war. And we do that because the gun is a killing machine. It only makes sense that the more killing machines in existence, the greater likelihood some of those killing machines are going to be used to kill other humans.Guns are a stain on the United States. Until we do something to reduce the number of guns, and curb gun violence, we will never be as great as we could be.But as we work to find a solution to America’s gun problem, we should be careful about from whom we seek advice, and whose ideas we consider. Organizations like the NRA, who do the bidding of gun manufacturers, while hiding behind the Second Amendment, and exploiting the vulnerable feelings of white males, are largely responsible for the problem. Their opposition to every single gun control measure is ridiculous. Had they embraced sensible restrictions decades ago we could have curbed the number of guns in this country, made sure ridiculously lethal guns and ammunition weren’t available, and prevented those guns from falling into the wrong hands.Instead, the NRA has convinced an entire segment of the population that any gun control measure is unconstitutional, despite the Supreme Court ruling in the Heller case, in which Justice Antonin Scalia wrote, “Like most rights, the right secured by the Second Amendment is not unlimited.”Thanks to organizations like the NRA, and spineless politicians who refuse to admit that the world is full of gray rather than the simple black and white they sell to their constituents, the toothpaste is already out of the tube when it comes to the number of guns in America. Cleaning up the mess is going to take the kind of bold, courageous action not usually associated with Congress.But to do nothing is to admit that unfettered gun ownership is more important than 14,000 lives each year.3,000 people died on 9/11, and the country spent trillions of dollars, passed hundreds of laws, and created a new cabinet-level department to make sure it never happened again.Gun violence kills almost 5 times as many people as 9/11 every single year. Yet we do nothing.The problem is guns.But we can solve the problem.Wasn't that well-written and fun to read? The only way to make sure you know when I've written something new is to subscribe to my blog. Facebook won't show you all of my posts, but if you subscribe we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I won't send junk, and you can opt-out anytime.
PREVIOUS POST: I Love Watching Kids Learn to TalkIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Repeal the Second Amendment
I Love Watching Kids Learn to Talk
My daughter is obsessed with making slime. She has been for more than a year now. After making dozens (hundreds?) of batches, she’s become pretty good at it. She throws together a batch of slime the way a seasoned chef might prepare a meal, albeit with different ingredients: a bit of baking soda, a splash of saline solution, just a touch of Elmer’s glue. Voila! It’s slime perfection.As I cleaned the kitchen last night, she decided to make some slime. She knows she has to clean up after herself, and she does a good job, so it’s no big deal. “I’m going to make this purple,” she said, as she added a few drops of blue coloring to the pure white concoction.She kneaded and folded and swirled and pulled until she’d created something so smooth and shiny that she could have put it in a plastic container and sold it at the checkout lane for $7.99.“I’m going to add some sand,” she said after she was done. “Now some fake snow.” She worked for another fifteen minutes, unsure how the sand and snow would affect the slime. After she worked it in, she asked me to watch as she held it out in front of her and pulled it apart.As soon as she yanked the slime into two pieces, an avalanche of sand cascaded to the floor. She looked up at me, eyes wide, hands still in front of her, and said, “I’ll go get the broom.”She put down the slime, got the broom, and started cleaning. But after a few seconds she put down the broom and said, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to broom it all up. I’ll use wipes instead.”Broom it all up? Doesn’t she mean sweep?Of course she does, but I kept my mouth shut. Hearing my smart, confident, eight-year-old daughter use the wrong word tugged at my heart.I love watching kids learn how to talk. It’s such a long process of discovery and accomplishment, a step toward becoming a functioning, independent person in society. But is there anything sweeter than a kid who’s using a word that’s not quite right, or saying a word in his or her own unique way?These lingual missteps remain some of my favorite memories from watching my kids grow. And the fact that my daughter is eight and still learning is just fantastic.A couple of years ago I beamed with pride when she expressed disgust that someone had left a “smoker” on the ground. Yes, I was happy that we’d made it clear to her that smoking is a disgusting, unhealthy habit, but at that moment I was most happy that she had to invent her own word for cigarette!All kids have their own unique way of speaking as they learn English. (I suspect these sorts of things happen in other languages, too, but other than a smattering of Espanol, I’m stuck speaking and understanding English only.)Seventeen years ago my older daughter used the word hangaburder. At some point – perhaps without us even noticing when it happened – she switched to hamburger. (Someone might want to check with the Oval Office to ensure they’re aware that hamberders don’t exist.)One of my sons pronounced the letter L like a Y for a long time, which meant he’d say things like, “I yike ice cream” or “I yove you.” We were in no hurry to correct him. He’s twelve now, and has developed his own interests, and somewhere along the line he figured out how to say the letter L. So you’ll never hear him say, “I hope the Brewers yose today.”I have the good fortune to spend a lot of time around a two-year-old who’s learning to talk. Every time he says, “I can’t want to do that,” I breathe a sigh of relief. He’ll learn soon enough. For now, I’d rather bask in the innocence of a kid who doesn’t know the difference between can’t and don’t!At some point these speaking mistakes will lose their loveliness. I cringed every time I heard a particular Chicago radio DJ say the word biopic so that it rhymed with myopic, rather than the correct pronunciation, bio-pic.But I’m not sure of the cutoff. I still delight that there’s practically zero chance that my older daughter will say the word seashell as it should be pronounced, rather than sheshell.I think if she’s still having trouble when she reaches thirty, I’ll give her a hand.There’s just nothing like the expressive purity of a child learning to use this language we take for granted. They grow out of it simply by talking and listening. Only when I look back at old videos do I realize how much my kids’ speech changes year-to-year. R sounds become more R and less W. S sounds become more teeth and less tongue. Other changes I can’t even describe take root.Then I become nostalgic for how they used to talk even though I hadn’t realized their speech had changed.But if they’re anything like me, they’ll never get rid of a peculiarity or two. I have to pause and repeat every time I say the word roar. Whose idea was it to put two R’s so close together?I wish someone would have broomed away one of those R’s.Wasn't that well-written and fun to read? The only way to make sure you know when I've written something new is to subscribe to my blog. Facebook won't show you all of my posts, but if you subscribe we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I won't send junk, and you can opt-out anytime.
PREVIOUS POST: How Green Book Might Have Won the Best Picture Oscar Thanks to the Academy's Screwy Voting SystemIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Celebrating My Son's Enthusiasm on His 12th Birthday
How Green Book Might Have Won the Best Picture Oscar Thanks to the Academy's Screwy Voting System
I think the Academy Awards often receive a bad rap. People complain that the show is too long, too boring, too self-indulgent, and sometimes not diverse enough. Those things might all be true from time-to-time, but I still try to watch.There’s just something about watching talented filmmakers come together to celebrate the movies of the past year that has interested me for as long as I can remember. I saw more than thirty new movies in 2018, but the Oscars have interested me just as much in years in which I haven’t seen any movies.Less interesting to me are the complaints about which films and artists didn’t win, and the complaints about people left off of the In Memoriam montage. The same people who complain that the ceremony is too long will complain that some B-list actor failed to receive the proper funereal recognition.I read many complaints about the selection of Green Book as Best Picture. I won’t get into the myriad objections, but from what I read online it seems very few people thought it was the best picture of the year, which begs the question, “Then how did it win the Best Picture Oscar?”Turns out, Green Book’s victory might have been an inadvertent consequence of the system used to tally the Academy’s Best Picture votes. The system makes it possible for a lesser film to win the biggest prize.First, between five and ten films are nominated for Best Picture, based on the number of nominations received from the Academy. All 7000-plus members of the Academy vote for Best Picture. Films must be nominated by at least 5% of the members in order to receive a Best Picture nomination.Then in the weeks leading up to the ceremony, all 7,000-plus members submit ballots that rank each of the Best Picture nominees. This year there were eight nominees, so each voter would have ranked the films 1-8.The ballots are counted according to the number of first-place votes received. The film that collects first-place votes equal to 50%-plus-one of the total votes cast is declared Best Picture.(I’m going to pretend there are only 100 members of the Academy for purposes of clarity, but it would work the same in the real Academy with 7000 members, just bigger numbers. But in our example 51 first-place votes are required for victory.)Let’s pretend the votes break down as follows after the initial count:
There are three clear favorites that are all celebrated by a single first-place vote. It would make sense to assume after the first round of voting that one of these three films will win Best Picture.Not so fast.In round two, the film that received the fewest first-place votes, Vice, is eliminated. And the six ballots that ranked Vice first are then reapportioned to the film listed in second place on each ballot. Let’s pretend that each of those Vice-loving voters listed Green Book as their second-place choice. So those votes then go to Green Book as first-place votes, and the votes are tallied again.With those additional six votes, these are the totals:
BlacKkKlansman is now in last place, so its nine first-place votes are reapportioned. Let’s pretend that each of those BlacKkKlansman-loving voters listed Green Book as their second-place choice. Those votes go to Green Book as first-place votes, and the totals after three rounds of voting are:
Green Book is making progress, but it still doesn’t have 51 votes.And since A Star Is Born has the fewest votes in that round, its votes are reapportioned. And guess what, all of those votes chose Green Book as their second choice. So all ten of those votes go to Green Book.Tally the votes again, and then after four rounds the totals are:
Still not there.Let’s eliminate the last place film again. So long The Favourite. I’ll give you one guess as to which film those voters chose as their second-place film. Yep, Green Book!
So all twelve of those votes go to Green Book, which pushes it over the hump. 51 votes and the Best Picture Oscar.Despite 86% of Academy members asserting that Green Book wasn’t the best picture, it won Best Picture.This is somewhat of a far-fetched example. It’s unlikely that all of those ballots would choose Green Book as the second-place film, but it does show how a film that’s not widely thought of as the best could be chosen as the best.However, Green Book wouldn’t even have had to be chosen as second-place on all of those ballots. Look at the voting after the second round:BlacKkKlansman is being eliminated. It’s possible that Vice was actually chosen second on all nine of those ballots, and that Green Book was chosen third. But since Vice has already been eliminated, those third place Green Book votes count as first place.And after the third round it’s possible that everyone who chose A Star is Born as their first choice, also chose Vice as second, and BlacKkKlansman as third. But since all of those films have been eliminated, Green Book gets all ten of those first-place votes, despite being chosen as the fourth-place film.If this kept up through the next two rounds, then Green Book would win Best Picture despite 71% of voters not even choosing it among their top three films!Despite such silliness, I suspect that the Academy won’t soon change their voting procedure.But perhaps I’ll begin my own campaign to force such a change. And I’ll film my struggle, turn it into a documentary, and become the first documentary to win a Best Picture Oscar.I know just how I can do it!Wasn't that well-written and fun to read? The only way to make sure you know when I've written something new is to subscribe to my blog. Facebook won't show you all of my posts, but if you subscribe we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I won't send junk, and you can opt-out anytime.
PREVIOUS POST: How to Fail at Thanksgiving (But Still Make it Awesome!)IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Movies from my Childhood: Murder by Phone
How to Fail at Thanksgiving (But Still Make it Awesome!)
Hopefully, you're almost ready for Thanksgiving, whether you're hosting the Big Meal at your house, or gracing someone else with your presence. If not, you better get on the ball, because today is Thanksgiving. So, if you're not ready, get to work.(After you read this!)Prioritizing tasks is one of those things that appears on every list of How to Succeed at Thanksgiving. If you've ever planned a Thanksgiving meal at your house you're familiar with these lists. Make a plan. Get organized. Have guests bring a dish. Accept help. Blah, blah, blah. Those lists are boring.Perhaps, boring is too strong of a word. Let's say…uninspired.You're not boring or uninspired though, are you? Of course not! So instead of another boring, uninspired Thanksgiving, strive for an exciting, awe-inspiring Thanksgiving."Brett, it's Thanksgiving morning. I've already made my plans. I'm not making things more complicated just because you say so."I understand your hesitation, but once you read this list, you're totally going to be on board. Trust me. Now, without further ado: How to Fail at Thanksgiving (But Still Make it Awesome!).--Rearrange your seating chart. Maybe you put a lot of thought into where everyone would sit in an effort to assure tranquility. Forget that. If you've got a relative that owns a Make America Great Again hat, and one who bought Michelle Obama's book, seat them next to each other and see what happens.--The turkey. There are a million ways to a cook a turkey. Every chef (professional and home) is sure that their way is the best. But if you really want to avoid a dry, chewy, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation-style turkey, I've got two words for you: medium rare. Try it. I bet no one complains that it's dry.--Half portions. Make half as much food as you planned. Then, when guests fill their plates, mumble to yourself, but so everyone can hear, "I hope there's enough to go around."--Decide that the tablecloth clashes with the rest of the décor after you've brought all of the food to the table. Insist on changing the tablecloth. "I like the other one better." Change it back.--Alcohol. Chances are you're serving alcohol, but I bet it's not enough. I mean, if we're going to find out what Aunt Nancy really thinks of Uncle Frank it's going to take more than half a glass of pinot.--You're Squanto. Repeatedly ask your guests if they know how to grow corn. If they don't, offer to teach them. If they do, tell them they're doing it wrong.--Christmas is right around the corner. Instead of saying, "Happy Thanksgiving", refer to the day as "Christmas Kickoff" and say that you're thankful for all the cool stuff you're getting in just 33 days.--Hand out awards for Loudest Chewer, Most Inane Comment, Messiest Eater, Biggest Glutton, and anything else that seems apropos.--Remind everyone that this is the 55th anniversary of JFK's assassination. Serve a bowl of spaghetti with a chunky tomato sauce and keep referring to it as brains.--If you've got football fans among your guests, wait until a critical moment of the game, and flip the circuit breaker to the television.--Serve a salad with romaine lettuce. When your guests tell you about the recall, declare it Fake News, and call the CDC a "bunch of sweet-toothed wimps."--At the end of the meal, look at all of your guests, shake your head, and say, "I've got to find better friends."Now, you might end up with some guests who complain about how Thanksgiving unfolded this year. You might hear them say things like, "You ruined the day!" or "I'm never coming here again." Or "What the hell's wrong with you?"Never mind them. They're too caught up in the present day to realize the impact that you've made. You've given them something more important than a meal they'll forget by Black Friday. You've given them gift of eternity.Everyone will remember this Thanksgiving forever!Wasn't that well-written and fun to read? The only way to make sure you know when I've written something new is to subscribe to my blog. Facebook won't show you all of my posts, but if you subscribe we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I won't send junk, and you can opt-out anytime.
PREVIOUS POST: My Car Smells Like Pee and Other Problems I'm FacingIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Turkey Facts to Amaze Your Guests
My Car Smells Like Pee and Other Problems I'm Facing
It's been a while since I've written one of these, a fact that my fourteen-year-old son reminds me of quite often. I have no reason for not writing other than I haven't made it a priority. But if I want to get back into the swing of things with this, then what better way to start than to complain?I thought about choosing one topic to complain about, but if one complaint is good, then three or four or five must be great, right? So instead of complaining about one horrendous thing (like the current president), I decided to complain about a bunch of (admittedly unimportant) things.First, let me deal with this clickbait title. It's true, my car smells like pee. It's mostly my own fault, but not how you think.While on a little road trip my kids and I stopped at McDonald's for breakfast. My daughter wanted hot cakes, and because I like a challenge I decided to let her pour syrup on her hot cakes even though we were eating in the car.I walked her through the process - take the hot cakes lid off, give me the lid, be careful opening the syrup, just pour a little, give me the syrup cup when you're done with it, keep the plate level - and she nails it. She cuts the hot cakes, eats most of them, gives me the tray to polish off the last few bites, and I throw the garbage in the large McDonald's bag on the floor of my car.An hour later my son says, "Why is there syrup on my arm?" After a short investigation during which I may or may not have peppered him with expletive-filled questions, we discovered that the syrup spilled from the bag, onto the floor of my car, onto his blanket, and eventually onto his arm.A syrup puddle formed on the floor mat. No big deal. I can clean the floor mat. The next day I cleaned the floor mat, only to discover that the Nile River of Syrup had flowed onto the sidewall of the foot well. Despite my best efforts, and a luckily-not-toxic combination of Resolve, dish soap, and Windex, the syrup still smells. And the low-grade (sugar water?) syrup that McDonald's uses smells like pee. Anyone who didn't know this story would think that I was hiding a dirty diaper under my front seat.I'm not.The smell might be growing less intense each day, but I can't be sure because my nose has suddenly become conditioned to smell pee when I get into my car.At least it's not summer.Which brings me to my next problem.Winter is coming. This is a problem for a million different reasons, which I wrote about a few years ago. But my current complaint relates to the most persistent winter challenge: dry hands.I can already feel the familiar tightness in my skin, and raw soreness around my knuckles from the lack of moisture in the air. It's only going to get worse. I'll combat it with Eucerin, but if I miss a day I develop hands similar to 40-grit sandpaper.This lifelong problem of mine has been compounded in recent years by my addiction to hand sanitizer. Door knobs, handrails, gas pump handles, and handshakes gross me out, so I keep a bottle of hand sanitizer in my car, and a bottle on my desk. I never pay attention to how much of the stuff I use until I feel the alcohol suck the moisture out of my skin with every pump. (Lightbulb: No wonder I get so dehydrated after a decent night at Brew Fest!)Am I just supposed to ignore the disgusting array of germs attacking my hands just because it's winter? Not a chance. So I guess what I'm saying is that I'd rather have bloody, germ-free hands than germy, smooth hands. When I put it like that I'm not sure I'm making the right choice.How much Diet Coke/ Diet Pepsi is permissible each day? If you knew someone who drank, say, a hundred ounces per day (Good lord that's almost a gallon!), would that be a problem?Yes, I think so. But it's so good!I could devote an entire blog to fountain Diet Coke from McDonald's. I don't mean an entire blog post, I mean an entire blog, with hundreds of posts. I won't, but I could. Especially if they've just changed the syrup. (I bet that doesn't smell like pee!)I used to stop at McDonald's in the morning every once in a while to reward myself with a Diet Coke. And then I started doing it every Friday. And then Fridays and sometimes other days for a treat. Now it's every single day. Every single morning. The people in McDonald's know me. It's sad.But that Diet Coke only lasts about an hour, maybe two. By mid-morning I'm ready for another drink, but Diet Coke doesn't taste as good in a can or a bottle, so I switch to Diet Pepsi. And then I challenge my liver and kidneys to see just how many artificial additives they can filter in a given day. Thus far they've been up to the challenge, but I sort of feel like I'm killing myself one aspartame molecule at a time.To say nothing of what it's probably doing to my poor teeth. It's a little-known fact that the only time the Tooth Fairy cusses is when she laments my continuous destruction of the strong, white enamel that she blessed me with.I should get that under control.So those are the initial (admittedly first-world) problems that came to mind when I decided I needed to start complaining again.Let me know if you have solutions.Wasn't that well-written and fun to read? The only way to make sure you know when I've written something new is to subscribe to my blog. Facebook won't show you all of my posts, but if you subscribe we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I won't send junk, and you can opt-out anytime.
PREVIOUS POST: Today's the First Day of School, and I'm Not Happy About ItIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Go Girl, You Can Pee Standing Up!
Today's the First Day of School, and I'm Not Happy About It
I've never been sentenced to the electric chair, but if I were, I imagine it'd be like the first day of school. The two events share that same unavoidable dread, often culminating in a sleepless night before, and, eventually, a resignation to the fate that awaits.But while a doomed prisoner is only offered a last meal, it's a Baker family tradition to celebrate the Saturday before the first day of school with Eat Whatever You Want Day.So maybe the two events aren't exactly the same.Although I've avoided the electric chair to this point, today is the first day of school. Not for me. For my kids. They're starting eighth, sixth, and second grade, and none of them are happy about it. I told my sixth-grade son it was time for bed last night and he moaned, "I can't wait for the school year to be over!"When I thought to myself, "Only 179 more early bedtimes," I wanted to punch myself in the face for putting an exact number on the almost-never-ending barrage of responsible parenting that I'll have to endure in the coming months. I somewhat enjoyed the role reversal of the past few months that often saw me go to bed before any of my kids. Now it's back to convincing them (and me) that sleep is more important than staying up to watch another delightfully bad 80s comedy.I know some parents cherish the day their kids go back to school. I suspect it mostly has to do with summers filled with bickering and boredom. The return of a quiet house, not to mention a routine, is welcome.And although I'm not the archenemy of routine, and I'm not home all day, every day with my kids during the summer, I'm never ready to send them back to school. As much as they wish that summer could go on forever, I suspect I wish it even more.Childhood is fleeting. And what's more childish than summer? Summer is limited responsibility, just like childhood. Summer is a carefree attitude, just like childhood. Summer is not knowing what day of the week it is, just like childhood.So when another summer is over, not only does the beginning of the next highest grade remind us that our kids are getting older, but so, too, does the fact that they have one fewer 4th of July, one fewer trip to the beach, one fewer late night run to get an ice cream cone remaining.And although the last day of school is always a reminder that another year has passed, the excitement about the possibilities that await over the summer help temper the melancholy.The summer spreads out before us. We've got plans. We've got time. We've got summer.But when summer's in the rearview mirror that's all gone. And instead we're left with some freshly-sharpened pencils, folders than have no chance of lasting nine months, and the entirely-too-optimistic belief that any of us - students, teachers or parents - are going to follow through on those well-intentioned promises to be more organized.It won't take long to get back into the swing of things. I'll wake up half an hour earlier. The kids will go to bed hours earlier. Homework at the kitchen table will replace trips to the park, and those kids (or sad adult men) with whom they've been playing Fortnite all Summer, will start to miss them.And there's always next summer.Except there's not. We're given a finite number of summers, but even more important than that, we're given a finite number of long summers. Although it seems to me like the school year just ended, I suspect the summer has seemed quite long for my seven-year-old daughter.But as each summer becomes a smaller percentage of our lives they pass more quickly, and by the time we're forty they're over almost as soon as they begin. And when time passes so quickly, we end up not doing everything we wanted to do because the time gets away from us.Despite all that, the kids will go to school today, and for 179 days after today. (Except for ditch days. I'm a big fan of ditch days. Not everything we need to learn about life can be learned in school.) Because even worse than ruining a perfectly good summer by going back to school, is ruining a perfectly good life by being a stupid idiot.Wasn't that well-written and fun to read? The only way to make sure you know when I've written something new is to subscribe to my blog. Facebook won't show you all of my posts, but if you subscribe we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I won't send junk, and you can opt-out anytime.
PREVIOUS POST: The Well-Intentioned But Worthless Things Shouted During Youth Baseball and Softball GamesIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Bad News Bears is the Perfect Movie for Little League Kids and Parents
The Well-Intentioned But Worthless Things Shouted During Youth Baseball and Softball Games
With the end of June comes the end of Little League baseball and softball season. This spring I managed my son’s team of ten, eleven, and twelve-year-old boys, and helped coach my daughter’s softball team of five-to-eight-year-old girls.Throughout the season, as one of the players on either one of my teams, or the opposing teams struggled, I began to pay particular attention to the things coaches, teammates, and people in the crowd (fans?) say. Most of these people are well-intentioned. Perhaps I’m putting too much thought into this, but some of the things heard around a youth baseball or softball field are ridiculous."Just throw strikes." Kids are inconsistent, and pitching is difficult, so it’s only natural that even the best pitchers are going to walk people. After walking a batter or two this sage piece of advice echoes from all parts of the field. I understand the sentiment, but it’s not helpful. At all. Not one bit. Speaking as someone who played Little League for twelve years, and has coached eleven teams, I can guarantee you that “Just throw strikes” has never been helpful.
You see, the problem isn’t that the kid has forgotten his job. He’s the pitcher. He’s supposed to get people out, which means throwing strikes. It’s not like he’s standing on the mound, beating himself up, thinking, “I have this ball, and that kid’s standing up there, but I can’t remember what the hell I’m supposed to do next.” He knows what he’s supposed to do, he just can’t do it! And no matter how many times you try to explain to him that he should “Just throw strikes” it’s not going to help."It only takes one." This doesn’t make sense. Ever. It only takes one? I remember hearing that phrase for the first time when I was ten years old and thinking, “Why didn’t that guy finish saying what he was going to say?” It only takes one what?One swing? One pitch? One strike?It doesn’t matter what you mean. Unless you hit the first pitch, or unless you retire the batter on the first pitch, it will always take more than one. That’s why the rules of the game give you four balls and three strikes and three outs and nine innings. It only takes one? Yeah, if you ignore all of the ones that came before!"Let’s get some runs!" This one isn’t just confined to youth baseball and softball. Harry Caray used to always say this after singing Take Me Out to the Ball Game. It doesn’t make any more sense when he said it then it does when some well-meaning coach says it as his team comes off the field after giving up six runs.Just once I want to see some kid respond with, “Ohhhhh! We’re trying to score more runs than the other team? This game makes so much more sense now.” I haven’t heard it yet. Maybe next year."Block the ball." While most of the other sayings on the list are words of encouragement, or pieces of benign advice, this one is more problematic. It’s usually shouted at the catcher when there’s a runner on third base. We might as well tell the poor kid, “If your teammate on the mound doesn’t listen to our advice and decides not to just throw strikes, and throws it in the dirt, then it’s entirely up to you to block the ball. Don’t forget, they have a runner on third, so it only takes one wild pitch for them to get a run!”I guarantee the catcher knows the situation, and he or she’s hoping-upon-hope that the pitcher throws the ball right down the middle and makes his or her job easier. Chances are the catcher’s not on the fence about what to do. She’s not squatting behind the place thinking, “Should I block this pitch or just let it go by?”Literally anything else you say during a game. One of the things I loved most about playing baseball was the way everything went silent when I stepped into the batter’s box. I didn’t hear a thing. I suspect most kids are like that. So whatever you’re saying to them at that moment isn’t getting through.Believe me, I understand the urge. There’s nothing more maddening than watching an outfielder who fields a ball and then stands there holding it as runners advance. If you’re not shouting “Throw the ball!” at the top of your lungs, then you should check your pulse.But problems aren’t solved during a game. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve yelled, “Catch the damn ball!” it never makes a kid a better fielder!There’s really only one cure-all for poor play in both youth baseball and softball: a post-game visit to the concession stand!Wasn't that well-written and fun to read? The only way to make sure you know when I've written something new is to subscribe to my blog. Facebook won't show you all of my posts, but if you subscribe we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I won't send junk, and you can opt-out anytime.
PREVIOUS POST: Today is My Son's Last Recess Because Adults are DumbIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Bad News Bears is the Perfect Movie for Little League Kids and Parents