Rantings of a fool

Good morning! A beautiful fall day and I sit waiting for the electrician again....for the third time....to fix the same thing.....another bird is trying to fly down the chimney. Boy, am I glad that we have a chimney guard and screen on the top of the flue. Jeez.....I do not want to chase a bird or squirrel through the house today or actually....any day....really...

What's up with Big M? Nothing that I have heard although his precious Eagles did not soar yesterday. They never made it out of the nest, so I hope that he slept through it.



The big kid continues his struggles to figure out life. I found out yesterday that the head coach never met the pitching coach before he was hired. Hmmm.....would I ever hire an assistant that I had not met without seeing if we had any chemistry? I have made so many hiring mistakes that I am not one to throw stones but I met each person that I hired and yes, still made the mistake of hiring them.



With that said, I am a bit upset about the pitching coach using the word 'retard' to describe a player. That's right...about as un-PC as a person can be. And stupid too....Really....come one dude. If you have the gall to yell expletives at your players, please find a different word in your rantings. You look like a fool.

 What can I do as a parent? Nothing...absolutely nothing but equip my kid with one-liners, a spine, and the ability to deflect the rantings of an idiot. With that said, I have absolutely no respect for this man. They could go 50-0 this year and I will still think that he is the biggest #%#^* to hit campus in a long time.

Time to run! Peace...

I am a slug

Good morning! It's cold and I came very close to turning on the fire place this morning, but changed my mind at the last minute. Yep, I got lazy and did not want to kneel in front of the fire place and turn the switch. Now that is how I define the word "slug."

OK, what's up? Well, yesterday Big M and family attended Tuna's game. As you may know, our Tuna, the senior football player is a big guy like his pop as he attended our alma mater. He has been injured and Saturday's game was the first for him since the opener when he tore his labrum. Matched up against a cross town rival, the team won in overtime with Tuna making the big plays. At the end of the game, the team signed the game ball and gave it to Big M. A dry eye was not to be had....As the team presented Big M with the game ball, several newspaper reporters began to interview Tuna and his dad. Today, in the Sunday papers, two articles about Tuna and his dad's fight against cancer were published. What can I say, but no one deserves the attention more than this family who gives to the community and others in a selfless manner. I know that Big M will defeat this foe....heart cancer....or as Fran Drescher says: "Cancer....schmancer...."





On to my big kid...although it seems that Tuna has him beat in weight and height.....we grow 'em big in the northeast....

He slept most of the day yesterday after a four hour work out and scrimmage. Not feeling particularly well, he texted the team's sports psychologist to talk with him. The doc had the big leftie meet him at the field hockey game. As he walked into the stadium, doc was standing next to the Athletic Director....hmmm.....any way, doc asked the kid several questions that he had to answer in front of the AD who got the general idea of what was going on with the team. He had no choice and had to answer the questions honestly. Perhaps, the doc knows much more about the trainers' power than he lets on as he shared that the field hockey team is also complaining about the trainers because they were made to run a great deal the day before a championship game. Can anyone say "muscle fatigue?"



Again, I am not an expert in training, but I do know that training is to prepare for a successful game day, not destroy it. Shocking as it may seem, an athlete has his or her body as a tool and it has to be cared for in a deliberate way in order to not overwhelm the muscles and allow for maximum use. The problem is that the trainers have way too much power. No one in charge is listening to the athletes. It seems that if an athlete complains, he is labeled a 'baby', 'whiner', 'tool', or 'wimp', therefore the trainers and coaches come down hard on them. But guess what? Not everyone athlete tries to avoid work outs. For example, my kid comes early to practices and stays late. Since the coaches know this, they should take that into consideration since he had surgery and has been working his way back. 



In my own classes, I see the students who work hard and others who want the results without the effort. I reward the hard workers and push the lazy ones to succeed. I believe that it is the same for sports, yet in order not to show favoritism, the coaches scream at all of them and expect the same regimen for each person. It doesn't work that way because all bodies are different and respond uniquely to working out. Therefore, it is up to the trainers and coaches to put together a program in which each person can maximize their level of skills, athleticism, and talent. Just sayin'.......



With that said, I am off to the gym with Tink....have a great day...go Eagles!

Sh'Bam to you too!

Good morning! It's Saturday and I got out of bed early to work out. Believe me, it was the last thing that I wanted to do, but somehow the coffee kicked in and I walked out the door to the Y for Sh'Bam. Actually, the effort to make myself do that was worth it. Since the alternative would have been to sit on the sofa with another cup of coffee until the caffeine made me move toward the door. With that said, yesterday's post was not the end of the story...because.....



I received a call last night from the big kid. He was upset so I knew that it had to do with the scrimmage, and as he began, I felt so bad that I started with the tears (just light ones...not a sob...just a few tears).....As he tried to explain why he was so upset, he mentioned that he is so anxious about his uncle Big M who is one of his heroes. Being three hours away and unable to visit has taken a toll on him as he wants to leave campus as soon as he can....then he went into....

"I have it all.....everything....even a cadillac to drive around in with a great apartment...a selfless sister....two parents who would do anything for me....a family who is the greatest....but I am so sad...."

That's when I started to whimper...."don't be. Big M will be OK. He's a fighter and so are you. Find a friend to talk to..."

"No one is around and I really don't have many friends...."

Now I know that he is not thinking straight, 'cause he has a large circle of buds and can text anyone for a date or good time at a pub. So, there must be more. Sadly, I was too upset to pull it out of him when dad walked through the kitchen door. Whew...the cavalry has arrived. I didn't want to bail on the call, but I was not in the best frame of mind so I was non therapeutic....

And so, dad took over, calmed and allayed the kid's fears and eventually hung up the phone. On the other hand, I opened a chilled bottle of pinot grigio and poured myself a tall....and I do mean 'tall' glass.



It seems that he gave up two runs in four innings and had one bad inning. The bright spot was that he had three great innings. He also said that he pitched well. Here is the basis for his anxiety....

As he was feeling pretty good advocating for himself against the twit Trainer whom I will call Napoleon, Napoleon obviously got to the coach and reported the leftie for his insubordination. As a result, the coach screamed at him yet again about following the protocol that Napoleon has created. It seems that this is the coach's way to dominate his players as he screams obscenities at them. With that said, he was once again humiliated for standing up for himself and his arm. Therein lies the reason for his meltdown last night.

Want my take? Huh? Are you ready? 'cause here it comes....

As an academic...yep, I have a doctorate which means that I have a keen sense of critical thinking. Am I bloviating? Nope...I would not have earned the degree without having the ability to figure out problems and process issues. That's a fact.

On to this issue...I have watched over the last three+ years how the trainers at this elite university have completely screwed up the pitchers' arms. In fact, having 11 surgeries in three years is 11 too many. Most programs do not have any surgeries because they know how to train pitchers.

Furthermore, with my connections, I have found the best doctors, physical therapists, and trainers in the country, if not world (am I bloviating again? No, just another fact. I do my research and do not take 'no' for an answer when someone turns me down). These doctors....the best doctors....internationally known told the kid to his face that he is never to lift a weight over his head. Never...and what does Napoleon do? He has them lift weights...not only over their heads on a regular basis but also on a game day. Once again, even Diva knows that this is wrong, wrong, wrong....

As the kid tries to protect his arm and his dream, the coach whom I will now refer to as "The Maniac" or TM for short, screams, belittles, humiliates, and humbles these guys with big dreams. What do I say to that? "Uh, let me at him....." But I cannot do this. Therefore, I will berate and reprimand him in the only format that I can until the kid graduates then I PUBLISH THIS BLOG. And rather than coding the names of the coaches, I will name names and thereby share with the world their philosophies of coaching and training. In fact, I will also add the research to support that my kid and the experts are right; and as a result TM and Napoleon will be serving him fries with his Big Meal at McDonalds in a few years. Just sayin'.....

Am I peeved? Oh yeah....peeved is not the word, but I will find better adjectives as fall ball finally ends and my boy can return home to visit his family and friends. Until then, I have to control my feelings and emotions and be a better support for him. It is a time like this that I miss tennis, 'cause I would love to be able to hit the little ball around the court and release my frustrations. Until then I have to be content to Sh'Bam at the Y until I can Sh'Bam the organization at the end of the kid's college career. And believe me, look out....I am collecting my data and will use it in a few months.

Ok, gottta go and grade papers....Peace!

De-coding the text

Good morning! And it is...sort of....Sparky sent a photo of Diva's bite and it looks like it is very painful. Oye! That dog needs sedation....prozac...therapy...or maybe, I do.....anyway...



Big M has two oncologist appointments today to see what the next step of treatment is. I am keeping positive thoughts in my head and heart.

How is the big kid? Well, he called this morning very early, as I was sleeping off my last night's class. Sadly, I was not near the phone and did not answer, but dad did. And from what I could tell, the leftie was NOT in good spirits....hmmmm.....he spoke with dad for 10 minutes and hung up....

OK, I was off the clock at that point, then I got a series of texts.....

"Trainer and I got into it."



'Good. Hold ur ground. U have been playing ball since he was in diapers.'

"I know. He snapped and I gotta talk to coach so I can explain my stance to him before he spins it."

'Poor coping mechanisms.'

"Attacked me after I said I didn't want to hold my body up on towels for 30 seconds."

'Hmmm. I'll ask Tank about it since he is a PT.'

"I'm pitching today. That's why."

'Tank says he would worry about muscle fatigue especially on a throwing day.'

"Yeah and the trainer never played."

And so you have a series of cryptic communications between mother and son that even the Soviets could not de-code.

After PT, I spoke with him and told him to hold his ground. After all, he has to advocate for himself since the trainer cannot.

An hour later, he called and said that he saw the trainer by the library and spoke to him about his philosophy and why he chooses not to do arm lifts, pulls, and hand stands on the days that he pitches. The trainer understood, they shook...all done...

Tonight, he gets to pitch without lifting today as he hopes that it makes a difference in the velocity and location of each pitch.




Ok, enough said. I am ready to work out and have happy hour with Diva. Although, I am still peeved at her not only for the Sparky biting incident but there is a puddle next to my chair. Oh Diva! What am I going to do with you? Someone, please open the box of wine...I need a sip or 5....



Have a great day!

I like turtles

Good morning! It's foggy and matches my mood. On a good note, Big M is out of the hospital and will continue his journey toward healing on Friday. He was a happy guy as he reunited with Cupcake, Buttercup, Tuna, Leftie, and his healing dog. By the way, the healing dog does NOT bite nice people like Sparky. Let me repeat...the healing dog does not bite, bark, or growl....what did we do wrong?



OK, on to the mountains and the big leftie. I am in a state and think that a journey up north would be therapeutic for me, Tink, and dad. Even if we do not see a scrimmage, perhaps we can enjoy the fall colors as they hit their peak this weekend. He called and texted last night and had some interesting news...

First, the coach called him out in practice and called him an 'embarrassment.' OK, I get it. He likes you...he really likes you! No one would call a player out during a practice in front of everyone unless he knew that the kid could take it and if he expects him to reach his potential under his guidance. At least, that is what I think....According to the big kid, he 'owned it' because he did not pitch well during his bullpen. Gotcha....

Second, the coaches placed him on a team in Illinois for the summer. It's a prospect league with lots of major league scouts attending the games as well as a step up in competition. "Mom, I am going along with this plan. But we know that I will be in rookie ball since I will be drafted in June."

Hmmmm...nice.....optimism...a plan of action.....dare I say, 'prophetic?'

And so, going along with the coaches, I googled the team that he is on and discovered a few things....

1. The team is in the middle of no-where Illinois.
2. They travel by coach bus (no cars) to Illinois, Indiana, Pennsylvania, Ohiooooo, and West Virgina....
3. The team came in last place last year with only 11 wins.
4. The team mascot is a turtle.



And that is all that I know except he has to be there from late May until mid August. Can anyone say, 'when are you going to be home?' Or is this the start of the end and I can turn his room into an exercise or sewing room...a sauna would be nice too....perhaps a large cage for Diva dog? A boxed wine cellar? Game room? Library? Hockey rink? Prayer room?

I guess that I make a joke about it, but in a way, I realize that the big guy is on his way out of my home and ready to be launched into the world...his own world....just BPM circling on occasion when he needs an ear to listen or a cheesecake in the fridge.



Am I going to miss him? what do you think? Of course. I cried for two days when he left for college for the fourth time. One would think that I would be accustomed to seeing his back and backpack as he drives away. But this is life and he has to leave. Or does he? Can I keep him for a little while longer? He could pal around with me in the grocery store....we could work out together...watch the Hangover movies together....debate whether Vin Diesel is really a good actor or sham...shout at the Eagles on tv when Vick throws a pick or 5....I'll teach him how to play tennis and paddle...we could go on walks together....



Ok, enough of the weird mom-stuff. He is growing up fast and is ready to leave the home to begin his life. With a case of tissues (Puffs Plus with lanolin), I will say "See you later" as he drives off in the Southern Belle's old wheels.....sniff....Go Turtles!



Have a great day!

Living with Cujo

Good morning! It's so pretty here with the leaves turning colors. I would love to take a ride to the mountains to see my big kid this weekend. He seems in terrific spirits even if he cannot say it in espanol.

I want to publicly apologize to Sparky. Last night after happy hour at the house, Diva went crazy and bit her arm. Yeah, that's right...that little 7 pound dog with the furry white coat. She bit her AND drew blood. This is a double oye! Diva, how could you??? What a menace...now what? She has already been kicked out of doggie behavior class. She's basically a good dog but had been outside barking crazily at the dogs in the neighborhood, so she was in the attack mode. Nevertheless, she acted like a big bully. She knows that I am angry, she has been hiding from me. Yeah, no treats from me, you menace! 

And how is Big M? Well, anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. His wires need to be adjusted today, so his discharge from the hospital has been delayed a bit. He's frustrated and who can blame him? By the way, we are going for a miracle. yesterday, I stopped at a convent for retired nuns and put him on the prayer list. We won't stop for anything less....Ok...how is that for positive thinking?


Just one note as I witness how much this guy is loved by his family and community. My sister in law and I activated a website for family and friends to receive daily updates on his condition. Embedded in the website is the ability to volunteer to give rides, be chemo buddies, and cook dinners. People want to help but do not know how to, therefore, this website is perfect to spread the word. He is a popular guy who gives and gives and hates to receive. But, guess what? After all of these years of giving, we need to give back to him for his kindness, love, and generosity. That's all there is to it....



Today, I continue PT on the arm and it is starting to hurt more! Actually, Tank is trying something new and said that it would sting....yep, it stings and smarts and hurts...but it is nothing in the scheme of things. Guess what? I really don't miss tennis much at all. I cannot believe that I am saying it, but with Big M and the needs of the family, tennis has taken a back seat in the bus to being available for support. Giving tennis up because of the arm has no longer been an internal struggle. I can exercise and do other things for health. I do miss the girls, but get plenty of opportunities to see the gang on

occasion.

And so, I have to prepare for leaving the house, seeing Tank, and teaching a class. If all goes well, I'll make it to the gym for Sh'Bam. yeah, I am now addicted to it. It's only taught twice a week, so I try to make the classes. It is a fun way to dance off the pounds and stress. Try it....you'll like it.

Peace!

Time to think

Good morning!



All my thoughts and prayers are headed to the hospital as Big M is in surgery. He is undergoing a procedure to insert an internal defibrillator and pacemaker. He's way too young for this, but that demon cancer will attack everything and render the body helpless. Once again, we won't settle for anything less than a miracle.



And so, what is going on in the mountains? well, the big kid is still peeved about the cheap hits that the batters got against him. He's going to have to figure out a way to handle it, because it is going to happen again and again and again.... By the way, in yesterday's paper, there was an article about a former Phillies pitcher, Jamie Moyer who pitched until he was in his late 40's and he won many many games. From what I could ascertain from the article, he says...get this....pitching is done 'between the ears.'


That's right, friends. He says that pitching is 100% mental. OK, now I am completely befuddled.....the coaches and players tell the big kid not to think. Just throw! Then a former all-star and pretty good pitcher tells him to 'think'. So, what he is saying is that the coaches are wrong...OYE! Where to begin on this one?




Yes, I believe that the best athletes do think and are capable to adjusting their game. For example, in tennis (yeah, it's my frame of reference AND no, I was NOT a great player), if I continue to serve to a person's back hand and she hits a winner every time, then I have to adjust and hit to the forehand...right? Well, it is the same in baseball. If a guy is a fastball hitter, then why oh why, would a pitcher throw fast balls at him? The pitcher has to adjust his game. And so, I submit, pitching is a mental game. There you have it.



Jamie Moyer also said something fascinating. He never sees a batter in the box. He only sees the glove. Interesting....he can actually block out the batter. That obviously took a great deal of mental practice. Again, I concur with the pitcher, 'cause when I play the ball and not the person, then I am playing tennis. Forget your opponent, focus on the ball. See the similarities, because that's where it ends.



I had sent a link to the kid  and asked him if he wanted the book, but he never returned my email which says to me.....that he was partying this weekend with the guys and not thinking much about baseball..although, they had a 5 hour practice yesterday. He reported to dad that his arm was 'dead.' Yikes. He also said that he is pitching better since he stopped throwing his weighted balls per the request of the coach, but his arms feel more tired. In two weeks? I am thinking that this is a bit


mental....but so it goes. 

The last thing that Moyer reported is that once he beat the Red Sox, he asked his wife to make the same dinner every time he was supposed to pitch. And so, for a number of years, he ate shrimp before each game. A bit superstitious, but obviously effective.

On to my last convoluted thought....as I turned on Good Morning America this morning, I saw that David Ortiz hit a grand slam home run to defeat the Tigers. Now, I have not been watching the playoffs nor do I care who wins or loses BUT all I thought of was the poor pitcher who threw the ball. Boy, has my paradigm shifted or what? Big M, a former offensive lineman in college, watches the o-line during football games. Some people watch the quarterback, not Big M. He is watching technique and skill. On the other hand, I am only watching pitchers as they throw. Cra-zee, yes?



Uh-huh....I wonder what I am going to do once this baseball journey is over. Will I have had my fill of it or will I keep my eye on the pitchers and rate their throws?



Not sure where the journey is going, but I now appreciate the amount of hard work and dedication that it takes to succeed in the sports world. And despite the concept that jock are dumb (some are...some are not), I will offer them a great deal of praise for their fortitude and work ethic. Hmmmm...maybe I will write a book.....Gotta go...laundry is calling my name....