National High Five Day

It seems like the important holidays always sneak up on me. I never get my Christmas shopping done before December 24. My anniversary present to Mary is still "in the mail." And my parent's anniversary was last week, I think, maybe. To cap off this streak of forgetfulness, I nearly missed one of my three favorite holidays, along with May 13 (Top Gun Day) and Sept. 19 (International Talk Like A Pirate Day). Yes, for those who don't know, today is National High Five Day, held every third Thursday of April for the last decade.


I've always been a big fan of the elevated hand slap, mainly because of its impact on my career. When I was an intern for the Arkansas Travelers, "Free High Five Nigh" was one of two ideas that I pitched to my boss, and now Travs GM Pete Laven. The other was "Hugs from the Homeless Night," where we would pay the bums that hung out around the park $5 to go around hugging people.


While the latter never really took off, "Free High Five Night" debuted at Ray Winder Field on May 5th (get it... 5/5) the next year. Unfortunately, I was in Tennessee by that time and didn't get to see my handiwork in person, but the promotion was named the best low cost promotion by ESPN the Magazine that year and earned Pete the Texas League's Top Executive (there might have been some other factors involved). I know I've mentioned this accomplishment several times in columns before, but in all honesty, if I can only have three things on my headstone, I'd want "Husband, Father, Inventor of Free High Five Night."


This year, the boys at National High Five Day are working to raise money for cancer research, something that has touched my family's life in the last few years. More than 180 people registered to give out 55 high-fives today to inspire donations to four cancer research centers. As of 3 p.m., the National High Five Project has raised $11,505 of their $15,555 goal, with the proceeds to be split between the V Foundation, Sanford-Burnham, Gateway for Cancer Research and the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center.


I'm kicking myself that I didn't join up to be a part of this great cause, but there is always next year. Until then, I will try to make the most of this wonderful day and like they say with Christmas, keep the spirit of National High Five Day in my heart all year long. For more information on National High Five Day or to donate to the cause, visit www.nationalhighfiveday.com.

Baseball Fields and Baby Smiles

I still find it amazing the power that a game has over me. I could be having the worst day ever and within a few minutes at the ballpark/basketball court/football field, all of that can be forgotten.

For example, Sunday was one of those days that makes me not only question my career choice, but my sanity. I made the decision to go in late to work after the opportunity to see my family arose, and while I think this was a good decision, it put me in a pretty big hole in regards to my writing for Monday’s paper. By six o’clock, panic had started to creep in as my list of things to write still couldn’t be counted on one hand. By seven, I was in full blown meltdown mode. Thankfully, my beautiful wife Mary talked me off the ledge and I managed to get everything done, or most of it at least.

Even though it ended up being okay, the episode shook me a little. I began wondering if I might be better off doing something else. I’ve always enjoyed eye patches and parrots, maybe I could be a pirate. The thoughts still lingered a little as I finished off my work day on Monday and headed over to Litchfield for the Panthers game against Lincolnwood.

The game was neither particularly close (Litchfield won 16-4) or particularly well played (a high sun and strong wind out to right contributed greatly to some miscues), but there was something about it that made everything okay. I’ve been working on shutting out the outside thoughts in my head more and being more mindful of what I’m doing right there and then. And I think that I accomplish this more at a game than at any other place.

It seems like that there is always something there that can bring a smile to my face, whether it be an amazing play or one that just leaves me shaking my head, like during Monday’s game when a ball was actually lost briefly in the outfield grass. It’s moments like these that I am thankful for because they make me know that I am doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.

This same feeling translates to my home life as well, in particular my new job as Grace’s dad. One moment she can be screaming bloody murder as I question my worth as a father. But with a look or a few words from me, the smile that melts my heart comes out and I know that the Grace Monster will be okay and that the good times way outnumber the bad.

Now the key is to remember those moments during the rough times, both at work and a home.

Underdogs, Stuffed Ducks, and Fallen Tigers

Prior to the NCAA tournament, I had this wonderful idea to have my six-month-old daughter Grace pick one of my brackets. I figured that this would be a fun, if not completely original, take on March Madness.

I had it all planned out. I would take Grace’s Snoopy doll and have that represent the lower seed (a play on the “underdog” moniker), then take her stuffed duck (because it was on top of the toy box) and have that represent the higher seed. That plan lasted about five minutes before Grace realized it was more fun to stare at the duck and Snoopy than to reach out for either animal, which was going to be my clue on her choice for that game.

Going to Plan B, I picked up two of her favorite rings, which seemed to work for a while. The little one made it all the way through the South Region before her toes took precedent over the rings. Rather than press my luck, I decided that I would pick the remaining three brackets.

So with the opening weekend over and done, I thought I’d reveal how the Grace Monster did in her first NCAA bracket. Through 12 games in the South Region, Grace has had her highs and lows. She went 6-2 in the first eight games, but only has one team left in the Sweet 16, third seeded Baylor.

The two games she missed in the first round were Iowa State beating Connecticut and Colorado upsetting UNLV.  Her big win came in the 2/15 match-up, where she picked Duke to fall to Lehigh, who was an 11 and a half point underdog. I fully realize that the pick was just a fluke, but I was still awfully proud of my daughter for seeing through the overhyped Blue Devils in favor of the Mountain Hawks. Unfortunately Lehigh’s run came to an end in the next round, spoiling Grace’s hopes of another upset with a win over Xavier.

Her daddy, on the other hand, has done okay in the other three regions, but not fantastic. All told, we are 32-of-48 so far, but our hopes of finishing at the top of the standings in our group went down the tubes with the other big upset of the tournament. Partial in tribute to my wonderful wife Mary who attended the University of Missouri, and partial because I thought they were a good team, I had Mizzou as my national champion.

In my bracket, the Tigers would take on their hated rival, the Kansas Jayhawks, in the championship game in what would be the final meeting between the two teams for a while, since Mizzou is jumping ship to the SEC. But that was not meant to be as Norfolk State (which is actually not a state at all) defeated my wife’s alma mater in another 2/15 match-up to end their national title hopes and my chance at a winning bracket.

In reality, I don’t really care whether I finish first or 50th in a bracket pool. The tournament has always been one of my favorite sporting events of the year, regardless of how my bracket or my favorite team does, not that I’ve had much to cheer for in that regard (looking at you University of Illinois). That love of the tournament has grown over the last few years as I get the chance to watch the games with Mary, who roots for the underdog without fail, unless they are playing her Tigers. And as Grace continues to get bigger, I can’t wait watch the games and fill out our brackets as a family. Who knows, maybe she’ll even pull another Lehigh out of her sleeve someday. 

Center and Guard: Sending Out An SOS

This column was originally published in the March 15 edition of The Journal-News

On Tuesday night, the Litchfield school board had to make a decision that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. With the state of Illinois swirling further down the toilet, the district continued to lack funds, meaning that jobs and programs would have to be cut. It was the board’s job to figure out what and who made it through. In the end, 14 staff members, nine coaching positions, and 11 middle school and high school extra-curricular activities didn’t survive the chopping block, including the boys soccer, girls softball and both golf and cross country programs. My heart goes out to those who lost their jobs, and I sincerely hope that some of those positions will be reinstated.

As for the athletic cuts, which hit hard for me, now is not the time to lament that they are gone. Now is the time to figure out what to do next and how to somehow keep these sports alive. Success isn’t everything, but in recent years the programs that were cut have produced regional champions (girls softball in 2011 and boys soccer in 2009 and 2010) and state qualifiers (Victoria Quarton in cross country and Brandon Stieren in golf just to name a couple). While those successes will always be a part of the school’s history, if these programs don’t continue, they will always be a bittersweet memory of what Litchfield once had.

The cuts at the middle school level will also have a big effect on the high school teams. I would think that football should be fine, considering that the JFL Titans thrived before the school took over the program a few years ago. But wrestling and volleyball could take a major step back. The success of the middle school wrestling program, which has sent kids to the state tournament each of the last 12 years, has had a direct effect on the success of the high school wrestling program, which has been one of the best in Class A in the state. As for volleyball, the high school program won its first regional game since 2005 and has increased its win totals each of the last four seasons. Without the middle school program, which was coached by high school head coach Gena Elliott and Jennifer Ruschhaupt, that step forward could be followed by several steps back if future players don’t get to learn the fundamentals at a younger age.

When it comes down to it though, the true value of these programs isn’t measured in wins and losses, but in how they affect a student’s life. I recall Terry Todt saying at an MTXE check presentation that not all learning is done in the classroom. Sometimes it’s done on a playing field. Sports are not the end all, be all, for high school, but they can be a valuable tool to teach responsibility, accountability, teamwork, leadership and numerous other traits that can be helpful in the real world.

Personally, I have many fond memories of the sports that were cut, in particular the boys soccer program. In 2009, I watched as Dylan Treece netted a game tying goal that went off either Travis Blom’s head or Metro-East Lutheran keeper Chris Fulkerson’s hand to send the rain soaked game to overtime, where it ended with a Devon Fenton goal in the final 30 seconds. Not only was that game one of the best I’ve seen in my time at the paper, but it was also the wettest I’ve ever been with clothes on and resulted in me needing to replace my waterlogged cell phone. Moments like that 2009 game and Devin Brakenhoff’s go-ahead goal in the final two and a half minutes of the regional title game against then-undefeated Lincolnwood are the things I will remember about Litchfield soccer whether last year was the final one in the program's history or not.

But my hope is that it will be back, along with the rest of the programs and jobs that were cut on Tuesday, however unlikely that may be. While I may not be able to help out much financially (most of my disposable income will be heading to a college fund for our daughter Grace), hopefully I can lend a hand someway to ensure that when fall and spring come around next year I will be watching the Panthers on the pitch, on the course, and on the diamond.

Freezing Time

Late Saturday night, as we drove north on I-55 from a wedding in St. Louis, I found myself tired, depressed and frustrated. It was almost 11:30 p.m. and I had been in the car for more than an hour on my fourth trip in the last two days down that stretch of road that connects Montgomery County with the Gateway City. As we passed Hamel, a topic came up during a conversation with my beautiful wife Mary that almost always results in hurt feeling for one or both of us.

Agitated at the world already, one of the latest songs about how country the singer is came on the radio, thus sending my mood further down the slide. I flipped the tuner to 95.1 for the Decatur station’s Uncut program, which features music that falls just outside the mainstream for most country stations. As the already in-progress song played, I found myself just wishing I was home and that the long day and night would be over. Then four familiar words echoed through the speakers of the car. It’s a beautiful morning…

Despite the fact that the singer, Brandon Rhyder, doesn’t perform much outside of Texas, I recognized the song right away. In fact, I hear those same four words every time Mary calls me. The song Freeze Frame Time has been my ringtone for my wife for more than three years. It was also our first dance, but is even more meaningful to us than just the fact that we swayed clumsily to it on our wedding day.

The song talks about the little things in life that make life worth living. Rhyder sings about the sunrise, about his son, and about his wife, who he says “picked me up when I was down, turned me around, and you made me fly high.” The chorus explains that it’s these little moments that make Rhyder wish he could freeze frame time.

I can relate. Sometimes it seems like the entire world is spinning out of control. Demands at work and away from it occasionally take their toll on my state of mind, but the little moments like sitting on the couch with Mary asleep on my shoulder or getting a smile from my six-month old daughter, Grace, make me crave more moments like those. Those moments also make me know that no matter how bad it gets, everything is going to be okay.

And that is what the song did at that moment. Despite being more than 100 miles from Decatur, somehow that song came through as clear as a bell, just when I needed it. What are the odds that song, which most people in Central Illinois have never heard of, happens to come on the radio at just the perfect moment? Whether it was coincidence or a higher power at work, I couldn’t help but smile as those familiar lyrics played on. Despite all of the consternation and discouragement I felt minutes earlier, I knew that everything that really mattered was in the car with me at that moment, either sitting on the passenger side, holding my hand, or quietly sleeping in the back seat.

This was one of those little moments that let me know that everything was going to be okay, no matter what. And like the song says, moments like that make me wish I could freeze frame time.

Stand By Your Manning

In 1998, not long after the NFL draft, I purchased my first NFL jersey. While I’d always been a fan of football, I’d never really like a team enough to add their uniform to my wardrobe. The Rams had only been in St. Louis for three years at the time and were still a year away from “The Greatest Show on Turf” days, and their predecessor, the Cardinals, were 1,500 miles away in Arizona.

But on April 18, 1998, my allegiances swung to the Indianapolis Colts when they selected Peyton Manning with the number one overall pick. Manning had been my favorite player, regardless of sport, since his freshman year at the University of Tennessee. My uncle, who was living in Knoxville at the time, had told me to keep an eye on the youngster out of New Orleans who seemed poised to take over for the Volunteers.

While Manning was racking up records and awards at UT, I was in high school following along every step of the way. I lived with the successes and died with the failures, most of which came when the Volunteers played Florida.

As the draft approached, I had to listen to my friends chide me over how Washington State QB Ryan Leaf was going to be a better pro passer and how Manning couldn’t win the big game/never won the Heisman/had the personality of skim milk. But I stuck with Manning, which paid off when Leaf flaked out in San Diego and found himself gone from the NFL three years later.

As Manning’s career continued, I celebrated the success of the Colts, including the 2006 Super Bowl victory. But now, with Manning being released after 14 years with the team, I find myself with a dilemma. Do I continue to root for the team that I’ve followed for the past decade and a half, or do I follow my hero to wherever he lands next?

In reality, it’s not much of a question. I go where Manning goes. While I rooted for the Colts, Manning was always the driving force behind my fandom. When he was injured last season, missing the entire 2011-12 campaign, my interest waned for the team as if my connection to the Colts had disappeared.

The fact that the Colts probably could have been beaten by a fifth grade JFL team that year may have contributed to my disinterest, but the real reason stems more from my attitude toward sports that don’t involve a bat, a ball and a diamond. Baseball is my first love and other professional sports seem to take a back seat to the national pastime. While I am a die-hard St. Louis Cardinals fan year round, my support when it comes to other athletic endeavors centers around a singular player, whether it be Manning, or New Jersey Devils goalie Martin Brodeur, or former Vancouver Grizzlies big man Bryant “Big Country” Reeves.

So as this year’s draft approaches, the Colts will prepare to usher in the “next Peyton Manning” and close the book on the actual one, while I do the same in regards to my NFL fandom. And while I will follow Manning where ever he goes, whether he is wearing turquoise in Miami, burgundy in Washington, or black and white in the Oreos Double Stuff Racing League, I know that his best days are probably behind him, with age and the questions about his neck injury still lingering.

But whether he picks up his fifth MVP honor or goes out and throws ten picks in his first game, Manning will always be my favorite player. And I’d like to think that’s the meaning of being a fan, regardless of whether you’re rooting for one guy individually or 30 guys on a team. 

Learning Not To Sleep On The Skins

Eventually one day I will learn not to discount the fact that Nokomis High School wins basketball games. Period.

As we prepared Wednesday for Thursday’s edition of The Journal-News, I fretted over the fact that half of the ads on the signature page commemorating the Redskins’ regional championship not only said “congrats” but “good luck” as well. While this is a wonderful sentiment, it remained to be seen whether the “good luck” part would even be necessary since Nokomis was playing Madison that very night in their opening game of the sectional tournament.

It’s not that I didn’t think that the Redskins could win the game, I just didn’t think it was all that likely. Madison was bigger, faster, stronger, more athletic and had beaten Nokomis two years earlier in the sectional final, which was probably the best high school basketball game I have ever seen in person. But in true Nokomis fashion, none of that mattered as the Skins trailed only briefly in their win over the Trojans, thus making my signature page worries a moot point.

The kind of fight that Nokomis displays game in and game out is why they have gone from a team that I dreaded watching in high school, due to their proclivity for beating my alma mater, to one that has been one of my favorite to cover during my time at the newspaper. I fully understand that Coach Steve Kimbro’s demonstrative nature has resulted in a few kids deciding not to play basketball, but for the ones who have stuck around and persevered, the trials and tribulations make the success all that much sweeter.

So with game two of the sectional tournament, just a few hours away, I won’t make the same mistake. I’m not saying that I guarantee Nokomis will defeat the Carrollton Hawks in Nokomis, but no longer will I be surprised when the Redskins are celebrating a victory after a game they weren’t supposed to win.