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Watch this video without tearing up, I dare you

Sep 11, 2013 -- 4:32pm

This is so phenomenal, I had to post it. And yes, I teared up. Bet you do, too.

 

Striving for more Brad, less Bobby

Jul 08, 2013 -- 12:27am
 
Photos/Getty Images 
Brad Stevens seems like my kind of guy, but I've been taking after the other guy a bit too much lately.
 

It was interesting for me to see Brad Stevens take the Boston Celtics’ head-coaching job last week. College basketball is one of the few sports I will watch on television in my free time, and I have been a fan of Stevens for a number of years. I had been impressed by what I’d seen from him, read about him and heard about him from people who’d covered him. He seems like not only a very good coach but a very good guy – the kind of guy you root for.

One of the reasons I developed such an affinity for him was that I found myself fascinated by his sideline demeanor during the games I watched him coach. Celtics president of basketball operations Danny Ainge talked in Stevens’ introductory press conference talked about how “poised” Stevens was on the sideline, and as I watched him during Butler’s 2010 NCAA tournament run, I loved the way he carried himself. I never saw him arguing with an official, never saw him loudly and demonstratively chewing out one of his players.

I watched that tournament, of course, with a three-month-old Madison on my lap for most of the games I actually got to watch. And I remember not only being so impressed by his demeanor, but also thinking about how much coaching and parenting are similar. You have to be fun and upbeat and energetic, which I think we saw Stevens be during the Bulldogs’ tournament run (I remember him chest-bumping his guys in the locker room after one victory), but you also have to be calm and under control in stressful, crunch-time situations. In my ideal parenting world, that was the approach I wanted to take with my kids.

For the most part, I felt like I succeeded at that in the first few years of this parenting gig. That’s why I’ve been so troubled by the way I’ve been parenting of late. Because I’ve been too much Bobby Knight and not enough Brad Stevens.

Paula and I knew we were going to be challenged when we had Madison and Sydney just 14 months apart. And I had also had more veteran parents warn me that whoever is responsible for coining the term “Terrible Twos” should’ve waited around for the Threes, which are much worse. With a 3-year-old and a 2-year-old in our house now, there are times that are downright overwhelming, which is probably why talks about expanding our family roster have been tabled for the time being. Timeouts are being handed out almost constantly, and if I weren’t philosophically opposed to spanking, there’d be some very red buttcheeks around these parts, too.

Instead, I’ve found myself yelling way too much, which has left me feeling like a coach who’s lost his way – and is in danger of losing his team.

Because I feel like coaching and parenting are so much alike, I’ve tried to hold myself to the same standard as a parent as I’d hold a coach to in my role as a writer. Is he a good leader? Planner? Communicator? Does he have his finger on the pulse of his team? Does he treat his players equally and fairly but also know that different players need to be coached differently? Is he smart? Confident? Knowledgeable? Does he put his players in the best position to succeed?

I’m not sure if I do all of those things as consistently as I want to, but I try hard to. But amid weeks of fierce independence and out-and-out insubordination from my two-player roster, I found myself losing my way a bit with my sideline demeanor. I’m rededicating myself to being a little more like Coach Stevens. It appears the rebuilding Celtics are going to give him a roster of young players to mold and develop along with that six-year contract he received. But if they don’t trade point guard Rajon Rondo, Stevens -- who's also a father of two with his wife Tracy -- will have to figure out how to connect with a headstrong, know-it-all veteran who might not like to hear what he has to say and might not respect his opinion as much as he should.

Which is exactly how I feel lately. 

'You don't have to find our you're dying to start living'

May 24, 2013 -- 1:55am
 
 
The unbridled joy I got to see from my girls meant even more given what started it.

Zach Sobiech was already gone by the time I found out he existed, which means I’ll never get to thank him for the reminder he gave me – and so many others – about attitude and life.

It was late Tuesday night when I came across his story. Two Green Bay Packers players – offensive lineman Greg Van Roten and rookie cornerback Micah Hyde – had Tweeted links to a 22-minute Soul Pancake mini-documentary about Sobiech, whom I'd later learn had died Monday. Even though it was approaching midnight and I still had more to write about the Packers’ first open full-squad practice of the offseason, I clicked. (The video is posted below. You will cry.)

Now, one of the occupational hazards of keeping Twitter open as I write is that it is a distraction waiting to happen. Earlier tonight, for example, I found myself watching a clip of comedian Frank Caliendo impersonating ESPN NFL Draft analyst Mel Kiper Jr., which led to me watching a clip of Caliendo’s send-up of Jon Gruden’s quarterback school, which led me to Caliendo as Jim Rome and Mike Ditka. Which meant I’d just wasted almost 15 minutes I should’ve been spending on my story about the Packers’ safety position.

The time I spent watching Sobiech’s story was anything but a waste.

The day before, I had been interviewing Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers for a story for the annual Packers Yearbook on his relationship with Midwest Athletes Against Childhood Cancer, and after we were finished, I’d mentioned that someone had emailed me recently saying that his It’s Aaron videos, in which Rodgers spends a day with three different MACC Fund kids, were self-serving.

It led to a conversation about attitudes. The quarterback is a smart, deep guy, and he talked about scientific studies of emotions and brainwaves and insisted that the one thing we all can choose to do each morning is decide what kind of attitude we’re going to have that day. Many of us choose to be positive and optimistic. Some of us go the other way.

And then, there was Zach Sobiech. Inspiring seems like too small and inconsequential a word to capture his spirit, considering the impact he’s had on total strangers like me and clearly on those closest to him.

Diagnosed with osteosarcoma – a rare cancerous bone tumor that develops in children, most frequently teenagers and adolescents – in 2009, he underwent multiple surgeries and rounds of chemotherapy before being told in May 2012 that the cancer had spread and was terminal. Sobiech, who turned 18 on May 3, turned to music and wrote the song “Clouds,” which became a YouTube sensation. His story went far beyond the Twin Cities, with CNN, Billboard Magazine and other news outlets featuring him.

Based on the YouTube video and a lengthy takeout on him in the Minneapolis Star-Tribune by Jeff Strickler, Sobiech was “upbeat, optimistic and fun” before his diagnosis. On his CaringBridge site, he was described as being “the same joyful soul he has always been.” Even “Clouds,” which contains some dark lyrics, is sung as an upbeat, bubblegum pop ditty that doesn’t feel like a sad farewell.

So it was on Wednesday morning that “Clouds” was playing on my laptop in our kitchen. I do a fair amount of writing at the counter, which keeps me in the mix for when our daughters Madison and Sydney do something fun. (Or, as has been the case of late, naughty.) The girls heard the song, and Maddie quickly asked, “Dad, what are you listening to?” She and Sydney didn’t wait for an answer, heading straight for their dress-up bin. Unhappy with their options there, they emerged a few minutes later with their nice dresses, which they’re set to wear to a wedding on Saturday.

An impromptu dance recital ensued, which of course required a restart of the song. But it didn’t end there. The show turned into a lesson, with Madison telling me to follow her instructions and learn several of the moves she’s picked up in her 3-year-old YMCA dance class. So here I was, in the middle of our kitchen, doing plies and Bourrée turns in boxers and a t-shirt. I was wiping tears off my cheeks, thinking about Zach's parents Rob and Laura, as the girls requested the song be played again. And again. And again.

It was one of those incredible dad moments I cherish, especially with the knowledge of how quickly such moments can be taken from us.

Our involvement with the MACC Fund and Children’s Hospital of Wisconsin has led us to meet some incredible kids – most of them success stories. And after having our own scare with Sydney – the uncertain time we spent waiting to get test results on whether she had Leukemia or something far less daunting was the worst time of my life – helped give us even greater perspective than we already had.

But that perspective always needs reinforcement, and Zach Sobiech delivered more than anyone could ask for in that department. At the beginning of the Soul Pancake video, he says, “You don’t have to find out you’re dying to start living.” He’s right. At the end, he says, “It’s really simple, actually. It’s just, try and make people happy.” And he’s right about that, too.

I hope we all can live the way he did. I feel like I owe it to him. It's the least I can do.

Back in the old Neighborhood

May 07, 2013 -- 7:00am
 
Photo/The Fred Rogers Company via The New York Times 
There's no missing the parallels between Fred Rogers and Daniel Tiger.
 

The one television show from my formative years that had the greatest impact on me was Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. As much as I loved Ernie and Bert and Big Bird and the Sesame Street gang, it was the soft-spoken, thoughtful Fred Rogers who reinforced on a daily basis the importance of being considerate and kind, about believing the best in people. The show helped me develop my imagination – with daily trips to the Land of Make Believe, where Daniel Striped Tiger, X the Owl, King Friday XIII, Henrietta Pussycat and Lady Elaine Fairchilde lived – and amplified the lessons my parents taught me.

In short, the show helped make me want to be the best me I could be. I’d like to believe that those who know me best would say that I live my life in a way today that exhibits the lessons I learned then.

Since Madison and Sydney arrived in our house, PBS Kids has been a TV staple. While we try to limit their TV time, we also believe that certain shows’ educational value makes them well worth the time to watch. And the show we absolutely love in our house these days is Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood.

Raving has never been my forte. For instance, on those rare occasions these days when we find a babysitter and go out to dinner, Paula has stopped asking me how my entrée was, since she knows the refrain. (“It was OK.”) The way I figure it, it makes those times when I am enthusiastic about something actually mean something. And I couldn’t be more effusive in my praise for Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood. (After all, it even got me to write something for my long-neglected parenting blog.)

What I find remarkable about the show is how applicable it is to our daily life with a pair of toddlers. Because Madison and Sydney are only 14 months apart – and Sydney is hell-bent on catching up to her big sister in every way, oblivious to the age difference – they can be an overwhelming duo. But they are also at those fun ages where every day is an adventure in learning and growing, and as a parent, I find that exhilarating. (And, admittedly, sometimes exasperating.) My good intentions to spend more time writing about parenting have been overwhelmed by the time-consuming challenges of parenting. (That, and folks are more interested in the Packers than my parenting travails.) But many of those challenging parenting moments are addressed on the show.

For instance, Sydney has faced her share of health challenges over the past year (as I have written about previously), and Daniel’s trip to the doctor proved helpful as we tried to reduce the fear factor. (Disney Junior’s Doc McStuffins has also helped.) But it’s in the everyday lessons that the show teaches where Fred Rogers’ ethos shines through, with  his teachings as an ever-present driving force behind the show.

The other aspect of Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood I enjoy is the brief musical ditty that accompanies every life lesson. (Those who hear me warbling bad karaoke on the radio on a semi-regular basis understand why that would be important to me.)

As Sydney follows in Maddie’s potty-training footsteps, the familiar refrain of When you have to go potty, stop – and go right away is heard a lot around our house. When there are daily sisterly disagreements over sharing and taking turns, either Find a way to play … together or You can take a turn, and then I’ll get it back is sung. When someone is upset by something, they are reminded that, When something seems bad, turn it around – and find something good. And in the constant process of reminding the girls to use their manners, Thank you for everything you do is the song of choice. And yes, the songs are catchy enough that I can be heard singing them even when the girls aren’t with me.

Having grown up on Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, watching Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood with the girls brings back a rush of memories for me. The characters I remember have been replaced by their descendants, Prince Wednesday, Katerina Kittycat, O the Owl and Miss Elaina. (Although Mr. McFeely does make a surprise cameo.) I love that Daniel talks to the girls the same way Mister Rogers talked to me, breaking through the fourth wall. And there’s even an episode in which Daniel takes a trip to the crayon factory, which I still remember Mr. Rogers doing when I was 9. (Having a brother five years younger kept me watching the show even after I’d seemingly outgrown it.) I find myself looking forward to new episodes the way my grown-up friends get excited about the next Game of Thrones episode on HBO.

While my degree from UW-Madison is in journalism, I took as many child development electives as I could, not only because I spent many of my high-school and college years working with kids (coaching t-ball at the YMCA, working as a playground supervisor for the city of Greenfield) but because being a dad was something I wanted to be for the longest time. (It only took me until I was 37 for it to happen.) I am learning more about kids every day – and am frequently reminded of how little I know about them or about parenting – but if there’s a more effective way to teach kids these lessons than Daniel Tiger’s approach, I have yet to see it.

More veteran parents have told me repeatedly that this job will only get harder. Bigger kids, bigger problems, they say. And I believe them. (Watching the neighbors’ 15-year-old freshman son and two of his buddies chop down a towering tree this afternoon reminded me of how dumb we all are during our teenage years.) I can only hope Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood tackles learning to drive, overcoming peer pressure and prom night when I need them to.

Until then, we will continue to learn that Grownups come back, that Friends help each other, yes they doand that When you feel so mad that you want to ROAR, Take a deep breath and count to four. 1…2…3…4…

Not quite 'Big' enough

Apr 13, 2012 -- 2:39pm

One of my all-time favorite movies is Big, with Tom Hanks. I was 16 when it came out in 1988, I saw it in the theater, and as I watched Hanks’ career take off, I always believed it was exactly the right role at exactly the right time for him.

I also could identify with his character, Josh Baskin. I had always wanted to be older than I actually was – as opposed to now, at 40, when I want to be younger than I actually am – and so Josh’s desire to accelerate growing up was something I felt, too.

During our recent trip to Florida, we day-tripped to Winter Haven and a wonderful place called LEGOLand Florida. Madison took a liking to LEGO early on – unlike her sister Sydney, who never met a choking hazard she didn’t try to ingest – and was very excited about our visit, even though the park is geared toward kids older than 2.

Despite some bad luck weather-wise – your typically inconvenient impending afternoon Florida thunderstorm – the early part of our visit went swimmingly. Maddie was impressed with the various oversized LEGO creations (she tried to take apart the dinosaur at the front entrance) and seemed to dig the cityscapes of San Francisco, New York, Las Vegas and Washington, D.C., in Mini Land USA (although she felt they would have been more fun if she had been allowed to stomp through them, Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man-style).

Madison is also an accomplished merry-go-round rider, having sampled the circular stylings of roughly a dozen carousels in her young life. The double-decker carousel at LEGOLand may very well have been her all-time favorite, given that after the rain stopped, she willingly and patiently stood at the front of the line at the carousel while the staff squeegeed off the rainwater to make it safe for riding again. We rode six more times before our departure.

Then again, and much to the chagrin of my inner Josh Baskin, it was also one of the few rides Maddie was allowed on.

Now, Madison is 2, and while her parents are convinced that she is well ahead of the developmental curve, she also has the misfortune to have been born to two diminutive parents. She checks in at a towering 33 inches tall, which according to the rules of LEGOLand, is three inches too short for most of their rides. Hopeful that my presence on the ride would mean we could go on one of the puny attractions together, we got to the front of the line and were promptly and unceremoniously Dikembe Mutombo’d by the young man in charge when Maddie’s ponytail failed to brush up against the height-requirement bar.

Two days after our LEGOLand trip, the whole Hee-Haw gang returned to Disney World’s Magic Kingdom, where both Madison and Sydney, who is not yet 13 months old and stands just 29 inches tall, rode on Dumbo. Sydney rode with Paula while Maddie, too short for such dangerous rides as Grannie’s Jalopies and the Big Rig Rally, rode with me in another flying elephant. I’m no expert in risk management or insurance premiums, but I am confused as to why Maddie was cleared for takeoff with the big-eared pachyderm but not for ground-based rides that are exactly like the ones at Bay Beach.

To Maddie’s credit, she didn’t care. Her dad was more crestfallen by the Big moment than she was. She simply redirected her energy toward the Duplo playground area, found a room with giant, rubberized LEGO building supplies and happily enjoyed the rest of her visit. Not once did she say, “I wish I was big.”

I, on the other hand, did some sulking, disappointed that being vertically challenged had been held against her. Then again, maybe there was a lesson there for Dad, too: Don’t be in such a hurry for her to grow up. After all, from where I’m sitting, she’s already getting too big.

Why I'll never forget Blair Kiel

Apr 09, 2012 -- 9:51am

If you know anything about me – well, other than my affinity for pink shirts and the fact that I talk about my kids entirely too much – then you know that I’m not really a fan of any teams. While I cheer for certain people (Dick and Tony Bennett, Mike Sherman, Joe Philbin, etc.) and against certain people (I’m looking at you, Roy Williams, in your Carolina blue), I don’t cheer for teams. My affection for the University of Oregon, for instance, is rooted more in my friendship with people from there than any real emotional investment in whether the Ducks win or lose.

This mentality confuses some folks to no end, as they wonder how I can cover the Green Bay Packers but not cheer for the Green Bay Packers. I could try to explain, but I’ll end up with a headache and you’ll still think I’m weird.

Instead, I have a much more important story I’d like to share.

As you probably read here on ESPNWisconsin.com or elsewhere, former Packers backup quarterback Blair Kiel died Sunday at age 50. I had never met nor covered Kiel, but I was saddened when I learned of his passing. And the reason is, I think, illustrative of why sports is so important and why I believe it’s such vital fabric woven through each of our lives. (Those of you who follow me on Twitter already read this story late Sunday night in 140-character increments. I apologize for the repetition.)

On Dec. 9, 1990, at Milwaukee County Stadium, Kiel rallied the Packers in the game I remember most vividly of any I ever attended, watched on television or covered as a reporter. The rally was ultimately meaningless – the Packers would lose, 20-14, to the Seattle Seahawks that day – but it means a lot to me.

The reason I remember Kiel's comeback against the Seahawks is I was there at County Stadium with my best friend Steve. Well, we were there until shortly after halftime.

I was a freshman at the University of Wisconsin at the time, and Steve had been my best friend throughout high school. We’d actually met in fifth grade at Vacation Bible School at Oklahoma Avenue Lutheran Church – he was the kid who brought the Nerf football every day to play catch -- and then reconnected at Martin Luther High School four years later.

I remember it being reasonably warm for early December – the official NFL game book says the temperature at kickoff was 45 degrees – but it was windy, making it feel colder than it should have been in our seats behind home plate.

After watching Lindy Infante’s team bumble to a 20-0 third-quarter deficit, we bailed and went back to Steve’s parents' house on 77th and Oklahoma on Milwaukee’s southwest side to thaw out and watch the last part of the game on TV. We got to their house just in time to see Kiel throw fourth-quarter touchdown passes to Perry Kemp and Ed West, pulling the Packers to within six points with about 3 minutes left in the game.

On the ensuing kickoff following West's TD, Seattle fumbles and the Packers recover at the Seahawks’ 24-yard line. Steve and I curse leaving.

On fourth-and-6 from inside Seattle’s 10-yard line, Kiel, who had replaced Anthony Dilweg in the third quarter, drops back with a chance to win the game with a touchdown pass and the extra point. Instead, he misses Jeff Query, the ball is incomplete, Seattle runs out the clock and the Packers lose. We laugh about nearly missing one of the greatest comebacks (in our minds, anyway) in Packers history. I never leave another Packers game early again.

Steve gives me a ride back to Madison, drops me off at my dorm.

Why do I remember all this?

Three weeks later, Steve is killed by a drunk driver.

That wasn’t the last time I saw Steve – I got to spend time with him at our high school’s annual alumni basketball tournament a few days before he died – but it remains one of my enduring memories of him. And, in large part, I have Blair Kiel to thank for that.

See, that’s the thing about sports. Certainly, it’s about wins and losses. It’s about championships. It’s about figuring out who’s going to play right outside linebacker opposite Clay Matthews next season and if Nick Collins is going to be able to resume his career and who’s going to play left tackle in 2012.

But what makes sports such a special part of our lives is the emotional connection we have to teams, or players, or games. And that’s why, while I'm not a "fan" anymore, I understand why the Packers mean so much to so many. It's the memories they create for us.

As for me, losing Steve certainly shaped the person I am now. It’s the reason I don’t drink alcohol, it’s why I am as a dad and as a husband an over-the-top kisser, hugger and I-love-you’er.  

It’s also why I still have those Packers-Seahawks ticket stubs on my bulletin board, more than 20 years later.

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