Dripping With Irony

It was late fall in 2000 when it all started.

We had just spent the better part of the last twenty years where our Executive Branch was by far the most powerful of the three ring circus that is our government. Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush and Bill Clinton had been our leaders during this time.

Each of these men had their faults and were hampered by them toward the end of their tenure in office. One even lost an election because of it. Still, the era was unmistakably theirs. Congress and the Supreme Court were the lesser rings, playing subordinate roles to the power of the President.

The election of 2000 seemed to have changed that. Al Gore and George W. Bush were in the tightest of race. Gore won the popular vote. But the electoral vote -- the only one that matters -- was bogged down in the courts. The future of our nation was held by the state of Florida.

Florida's courts and governor were at odds. We were at an impasse. It looked as though we were never going to have a next President.

Then the Supreme Court stepped in. And in a 5-4 vote, effectively elected George W. Bush the President of the United States.

The tide of power shifted immediately to the Judicial Branch. It seemed that was where it would stay until the planes reigned terror from the skies.

Since then, well, some may say we went back to the pre-election days of a powerful presidency. Others, like me, say we changed as a country and had a tyrant rather than a President in office.

The Supreme Court, however, didn't seem ready yet to relinquish its authority.

In a 5-3 ruling, the Court blocked Guantanamo Bay military tribunals for suspected terrorists imprisoned there. For the first time since September 11th, someone checked Bush's authority.

This decision can have lasting effects on the rest of Bush's regime, which will officially end January 20, 2009. Other infringements he has made under the guise of the Patriot Act can now also be called into question. This includes the NSA's wiretapping of citizens and perhaps his ability to make unilateral decisions in the war on terror.

The very body that put Bush into office just politically emasculated him.

All hail Justice Kennedy!!

What Do Your Representatives Do?

This morning I checked the news and discovered that my good friends in the Senate rejected a proposed Amendment to ban flag burning.

By one vote.

Still, I was happy. This gave me some hope that our government hasn't lost all of its American ideal. The House, which voted for the Amendment, could use a little overhaul. But in all, maybe we're still OK. Maybe the Bush regime hasn't killed off everything we should hold dear as Americans.

After learning of the good news, I went to check what my two Senators did. Unfortunately, I was only able to find out one (Senator Joe Lieberman voted against the ban). This got me thinking.

Cable news and primetime news channels can post how senators and congressmen voted. It's actually simple. Rather than "waste" precious air time, they can take advantage of useless real estate.

If you have ever watched Bloomberg, you'll note that 1/4 of the screen is filled with stock exchange info. There is rolling stock prices for NYSE and NASDAQ at the bottom, scrolling right to left. There is a box above it detailing the market activity for the day. There is also information on the subject matter at hand. They use far more real estate than sports networks or basic news networks. And it works.

What if, below the news scroll, CNN added a scroll showing how senators and congressmen voted? It can be localized as well, so viewers from Connecticut do not need to wait through West Virginia, Wyoming and Alaska. Viewers from an individual state will see how their state's senators and congressmen voted.

Also, newspapers can get into the action, leaving a page in the Nation section to publish the previous day's (or week's, if just Sunday) voting.

This will help inform. This may also help to put pressure on politicians. Our representatives should have to answer to us how they are voting. Maybe they will be less inclined to cave in to pressures from a bully administration like the one in office now.

It will also help to lessen the slander that goes on during campaigns. The Karl Roves of the world will be less able to twist the truths about voting records if the constituents already know that truth.

It's all about accountability.

Not only for our representatives, but for us. With this new knowledge, we become empowered citizens. And are therefore more responsible for the voting decisions that we make.

Too often, we take for granted our rights over our government and neglect our responsibility to better it. While this idea is by no means a solution to that problem, it certainly helps to put more onus on us to be involved.

And at the end of the day, being informed and involved citizens is our responsibility.

The Athena Solution

Long ago in a civilization that had flourished like no other before and perhaps no other since, society was structured in a different fashion. Nations may have existed, but not in this civilization. No, here it was the city that ruled. The city was the center for everything.

The greatest of all these cities was Athens.

I mention Athens because the other day I thought of a way we can take lessons from the past and apply them to today.

We have two cities -- possibly more -- that are hot beds for terror and war. Both cities have long histories to be proud of, they are centerpoints for humankind. Unfortunately, the very thing that makes them ao important is what has made them so vulnerable.

The cities I mention are Baghdad and Jerusalem.

In both, fighting is going on right now over whose city it is. In Baghdad, the Sunnis Kurds and Shiites are battling, with American troops caught in the middle and not making things better. In Jerusalem, a two thousand year old battle over claims to the city has no end in sight.

So why not make them city-states?

Why not make them cities for all people?

Think about this: Jerusalem is a religious center for three major religions. There will always be some kind of fighting over it because of that. History has shown that humans are incapable of choosing peace when it comes to religion. So why not make the city of God truly a city of God?

Have no one own Jerusalem. Not Israel. Not Palestine. Not anyone else. Open the doors to everyone. And all its city residents can benefit. They can profit from the tourism. And, since a city-state is likely too small to defend itself from potential enemies that surround them, the United Nations will have a permanent station there -- a Swiss guard with M-16s and the backing of every nation on the planet to insure Palestine, Israel or others do not interfere with the city.

Can it work? Who knows? The residents can certainly profit and nothing seems to heal old wounds like comfort. Besides, is there a better solution?

Now, Baghdad is a city with a rich history as well. For centuries it was a center for learning. Why can't that happen again? There is Oxford in England, Cambridge in Massachusetts -- why not have Baghdad be the world's center for knowledge?

It only makes sense. The land that the city stands on was once the gateway for trade between East and West. Spices and silks came from India and China through the Middle East and on to the Mediterranean. Venetians and others traded for it with valuables from the European world. Because of this, places like Baghdad had a unique perspective of both worlds.

A cultural center for the world. Knowledge. Exploration. All in one city that sits along the famed waters of the Tigris River.

Like Jerusalem, make it a city-state. Take the power out of the hands of the religious enemies and put it into the hands of the residents. This will take more time than Jerusalem, as the city is war-torn and there are still elements within it that make it far more dangerous a place to begin such a lofty undertaking. But it can be done. And again, the residents can profit. And eventually students from all over the world can come to study there.

Maybe I'm just a dreamer. But I have yet to hear a better solution.

Maybe the citizens of Athens had it right.

On An Unsunny Day In June

Answer: Surreal.

Question: What was your first fishing tournament like?

Four of us climbed aboard the Little Grey Gull early Saturday morning. A light drizzle dampened our bags and our clothes. My father, the captain, took us out of the harbor in Westbrook, CT. As we headed out toward the Long Island Sound, the fog was all we could see.

As the FLW check boat called us, we checked in, then went out to our first fishing spot.

I want to talk about my team here for a minute. My father, as stated, was team and boat captain. He has been fishing since he was a little boy. He is as passionate about fishing as anyone I've ever met. He's also a phenomenal student, listening to other great fishermen for advice and tips. And there were plenty.

A second teammate was Frank. He had been fishing the waters off the Connecticut coast for the last thirty-plus years. He knows the spots, how to fish them, even the angles the boats should be directed for maximum performance. Many fisherman use electronics as guides. Frank uses wisdom.

Al was our third teammate. My father and I have been fishing with Al for twenty-five years. He may be the best fisherman I have ever known. He has the persistence and determination of a marathon runner, another passion of his -- he's run the last seven New York marathons and even competed in four Bostons.

I was the fourth teammate. I caught my first fish around the time I learned to walk. And while I am nowhere near the quality of fishermen I had around me Saturday, fishing is something that is part of me.

We weren't on the waters long before we caught our first striper. Frank hauled it in. It was an enormous bass, at least thirty-five pounds. Here's where it gets surreal. The fish was too big, we had to throw it back.

My father caught the next one. We were excited as he brought it in, and all four of us deflated as he laid it on the ruler, realizing that this fish was also too big.

Two fish. Seventy-plus pounds. And nothing to enter for the tournament.

The tournament rules were that the fish had to be alive and between 28 - 34 inches. Each boat could enter two fish.

Frank caught another fish. Too small. We were all getting a little nervous. Well, at least I was.

I caught the next fish. As it came in, we all thought it was going to be too small. In fact, as we laid it on the ruler, it only measured 27 1/2 inches. But, with small stripers, you could pinch the tails. We did. It made it. We were in.

Al and my father then brought in fish simultaneously. Al's fish was 31 inches. Perfect. We now had two fish. My father's was again too big.

We had to throw back three fish weighing a total of approximately 105 lbs. Each fish weighed more than the combined weight of the two we kept. Surreal.

The rest of the day was a battle with the weather. The fog was as thick as pea soup. It rained. Then it stopped. Then it rained. With each change, we had to either put on or take off our rain gear. None of us were ever able to get comfortable.

Frank caught the only other fish for the rest of the day. He caught a beautiful bluefish that we couldn't keep, as it was a striper catch and release tournament. Then he caught a fluke that brazenly bit into a jig that was bigger than it was.

Surreal.

At the end of the day, we had caught two legitimate fish. We were in the game but we didn't think we fared all that well. Both fish were at the small end of the range. In addition, there were forty-nine boats entered. We didn't expect much.

When we pulled just outside Westbrook Harbor we caught sight of the FLW boat. We reported in and told them we had fish to enter. He asked us to wait.

Then a funny thing happened. Every other boat that followed us in had caught no fish. Could it be that we actually fared well? I started to get excited again.

My hopes were dashed when we clocked our fish in at 19 lbs, 14 oz. Two fish totalling that amount. Still, we were happy that we participated.

After we docked, we went to the stage where FLW began calling places. Of 49 boats, only 18 caught fish. And of those, only half caught two fish. Suddenly our chances looked better.

We placed eighth of forty-nine. In our first ever fishing tournament we got a top ten, earned a little money and qualified for the championship tournament in Virginia in December. We fared better than many serious tournament fishermen, some who came back with no fish.

On an unsunny day in June, we shined.

Feeling My Age

Last night I went to sparring class.

Actually, it is sparring training -- we don't put the pads on, just train. We did, however, do light contact sparring.

After three short bouts, I was completely pooped.

I am supposed to be improving as I train. Lately, I feel as if I'm going backwards. I was fine after my first bout, but the second bout was with my master. I was so winded at the end I wanted to pass out. On the third match I felt like I was an easy target -- just standing there.

I'd gone to the gym at lunch and did some work on the elliptical, but that is no excuse. I was just plain exhausted.

A month ago, I didn't feel this tired.

I think I am getting old fast. My years of smoking and partying are creeping back into my body, reminding me that I'd done so many foolish things in the past. What the hell was I thinking, putting a cigarette in my mouth?

Tonight is competition class. The masters work us extra hard for it. For the first time since I returned to Tae Kwon Do, I'm having doubts about my physical ability.

Maybe I really am getting too old for this.

Post Father's Day Thoughts

When I'm dead and buried, I hope to have a long list of accomplishments and things that describe who I was.

Most important on that list is "Father".

I was thinking how important it is to be a father while I was on the train this morning. If you are male and have children, everything else takes a backseat. Some people say that it's hard to be a parent. I don't know about that. How is anything you love all that hard?

Once, someone said to me, "You are such a good father. How can you do all that?" I had no answer, really. I thought about the thousands of children whose fathers aren't there for them and I wondered to myself how could they do that? No real man does that.

My son and I get along well. I promised myself that there were things I'd never do to him. I swore I'd never beat him. I swore I'd never put him down. I swore that he would have a home of love.

It certainly is easier with a wife as wonderful as I have. Claudia is a terrific mom and companion. She and I agree about how we wish to raise Jonathan. We disagree on some of the details, of course. That is only natural. But we both want what is best for him. And we do what is necessary.

Is it hard?

I don't believe so. It's what we're supposed to do. Hard is going to work every day. Hard is trying to make yourself a better person. Hard is not being there for your child.

Father's day was great for my first one, back in 2000. It was a nice honor. After that, I've come to realize that every day is Father's day. Every time I teach him something, or encourage him, or watch him succeed, or watch him hit a ball or break a board or read or write or just say, "I love you, Dad," is enough of a reward for me.

I cannot predict the future and say with any real certainty the kind of man Jonathan will become. All I can do is give him love and teach him how to live life as best as I know how. I can also savor all the moments we share together and cherish knowing I am his dad.

Lucky Boy

Potentially great athletes have come and gone and we have never heard of them. Some of them may have even been better than the ones we know about.

Take D.Y. D.Y. was a football star from White Plains back in the 1980's. He was a year older than I was, and was so good that many of the universities were coming to games to see him play. He was offered scholarsips to many of them. He was such a raw talent that the potential for a big future was apparent to everyone. D.Y. didn't make it to college, however. Shortly after the season of his senior year, D.Y. gave in to the wrong crowd. He started smoking crack. A few months later he was stabbed multiple times behind East Post Road by his dealer.

We probably have all heard stories of the great athlete who blew out his knee, or suffered some other injury that cost him his athletic future.

One thing we do not hear about is the hundreds of athletes every year who end up going nowhere because they have horrible coaches. Bad advice, or demeaning behavior can really hurt an athlete, even ones whose talents are so apparent they're palpable. Young athletes need coaches who can instill confidence as well as knowledge and skill.

That's why I think Jonathan is so lucky. Jonathan does two sports. He is great at one and potentially very good at the other. Without question, he has potential for a future in either sport -- at least up through the college level if he desires.

The masters he has in Tae Kwon Do are not unlike coaches. They are incredible. They spend so much time building confidence. There is a language barrier there, but you would never know it. Jonathan and fellow students listen. They learn. They improve. Their masters have taken his talent and made him better.

Jonathan's two baseball coaches are very much the same. After the very first game last year I knew that we were lucky to have them as coaches. Jonathan loves both of them and listens to them. Last year, Jonathan did not get baseball. He was lost out there. By the end of the season, he was at least having fun.

This year, however, he is one of the better players on the team. He is because the coaches have taken an interest in him. They see, as his masters have seen, that Jonathan has a determination to succeed that simply cannot be taught. And they encourage him. And he listens. And he learns. And he's improved.

Jonathan was one of the players to earn a game ball on Saturday for his performance. The coaches may as well give game balls to themselves. They truly have earned it.

We're lucky to have them.

We Don't Need No Water...

Next up for our good friends in the Legislative Branch is a proposed amendment to the Constitution that will ultimately ban the burning of our flag.

Before I go into this, I have to say the following. I am personally opposed to flag-burning. I think it desecrates the highest ideals of what our nation is intended to be. I do not like it.

That said, I do not believe it is something that should be made illegal.

If someone wishes to burn a flag, who are we to say that is wrong?

Because I don't like it?

I don't like religion. Let's ban that. How about Conservativism. Maybe we should make it illegal to be Conservative in this country. After all, they are the historically progress-hindering bunch who kept us into slavery, led us to Civil War, instituted racism against black Americans and European immigrants, led the Prohibition charge, fought for segregation, foought against women's rights and put us in Iraq.

What has a flag-burner done, other than start a fire?

The point is, I believe this is yet another terrible attempt on the part of certain people to control what we do, what we think and how we conduct our lives.

And if that is the way our nation is headed, then I say let the flags burn.

The Time Machine

What are you supposed to do when your faith moves you backwards?

Three Christian faiths are trying to rewind the clock on you. If you are a member of these churches, I hope this gives you pause.

The Roman Catholic Church, that beacon of progress, is surprisingly only going back to around 1965. They are looking to rewrite the mass to bring it closer to the old Latin masses of pre-Second Vatican Council days. While this is the least of the reactionary tales in this blog, it should be noted that the Roman Catholic Church is, as we all know, far from progressive, and has a fifteen hundred year streak going of attempting to hinder progress, beginning with their overtaking European power following Rome's fall.

The Episcopal concern is, at least to me, far more revealing of the nature of American Christian churches today. It seems our good old friends in Anglica want to ban homosexuals from the bishopric. I guess they'll be reconciling with Rome and speaking Latin in no time.

Perhaps the worst I've read recently comes from the South. The Southern Baptist Convention has actually been considering recommendations to their congregation to remove their children from public schools. They considered recommending alternatives such as homeschooling and private Christian schools. The reasons? It isn't because of our failing education system. No, it's because our society is lax on homosexuality. Oh, and the public schools refuse to address the notion of "intelligent design".

First, this Christian assault on homosexuality is offensive. That so many Americans buy into it is frightening.

Here's a thought: the Christian churches have attacked Dan Brown and his Mary Magdeline theory about her being Jesus' wife. What about this theory: Jesus was unmarried, spent much of his time with other men -- without their wives. His best friend was a woman. And he was apparently quite the sensitive type. Plus, he liked to wash his friends' feet.

You do the math.

The Southern Baptists are continuing to fight the Scopes trial. And they are making moves reminiscent of Prohibition (read the article).

Their God tried to teach them to love unconditionally. Apparently they are as deaf as they are homophobic.

One Proud Dad

Sometimes just a conversation can make you proud.

Take the one that I had with my son the other night as I was putting him to bed. The lights were off and we were lying in his bed talking about baseball. Tae Kwon Do isn't the only sport we love.

And sport isn't the only thing we have in common, as our conversation will show.

I was describing Derek Jeter, and how he is such a great player and how he becomes an even better player in those high stakes games -- a player we call "clutch." Jonathan, who has formed an obsession with Babe Ruth, asked me if the Babe was that kind of player. I told him that he was and how he retired more World Series homers than anyone and also pitched all those scoreless World Series innings.

Then, I thought I would use Jonathan's favorite player as a lesson. I said how there are two players who have more home runs than Babe Ruth. One is Barry Bonds. I described to Jonathan how Barry Bonds took drugs to make him better and that was cheating.

"That's not fair. I don't like Barry Bonds."

Good boy.

Then I told the story of Hank Aaron. I wasn't sure how he'd take it -- a good man who had broken Jonathan's favorite player's record. I described how people treated Hank Aaron terribly because he was black and how many people didn't want a black man to break Babe Ruth's record. Some, I'd told him, even threatened him. But Hank Aaron kept playing and kept hitting home runs. And in April, 1974, when I was only three-and-a-half, he did it. He hit his 715th home run and became the new home run king.

Jonathan thought about it a minute. He asked me questions about why people would hate Hank Aaron because he was black. I told him that there are very stupid and very bad people out there who hate people simply because of the way they look.

Jonathan looked at me and said, "I think I like Hank Aaron best now."

* * * * *

This just in:

As the World Cup continues, I decided to check the average life expectancy of the countries in the tournament. The top five:

1: Japan
2: Switzerland
3: Sweden
4: Italy (tie)
France(tie)

They each have things in common. Starch (those "evil" complex carbs) play a major role in their cuisines. The Japanese have rice, the Swiss and Swedish have potatoes, and the Italians and French have their grains. Alcohol plays a role in all their cuisines, be it wine, beer, aquavit or sake. Four of the five are big seafood eaters (the landlocked Swiss being a lone exception).

Here in America, we're told that complex carbs are evil, that we should be loading up on protein and alcohol is not a staple to our meals. But we're fatter than they are. And we die faster than they do.

You do the math.

* * * * *

Is this not a great summer for sports? Think about it, baseball has parity not seen since the 1980's. We just had a great French Open and Wimbledon is right around the corner. We're in the midst of the World Cup, and all the usual suspects are gearing up for some heavy competition later on in June (see Brazil, Italy, Germany, England, Argentina, Spain and France). We may even get a Korean surprise, as we did in the baseball World Cup. And as soon as that ends, our eyes turn from Germany to France where, for the first time since 1998 someone not named Lance Armstrong will win the Tour. And when the excitement from the Champs-Elysees finally wears off, we go to Flushing Meadows for the U.S. Open.

A great summer.

Vince Lombardi Had A Point

Something happens to me when I lose. A pit forms inside my gut and I can’t seem to get rid of it. My mind retraces all of the steps of my loss – replays every moment of it again and again as if it was a torturous and endless spool of film.

I hate to lose.

When I lost my match on Saturday, I felt the pit immediately. I was disgusted. I was angry with myself. I failed.

I hate to fail.

My wife had videotaped the match and, painful as it was, I forced myself to watch it. Three times. Every kick. Every punch. Every block. Every point.

Sunday I was lucky enough to spend some time alone. I was driving from my home in Connecticut to Yorktown, NY. It was a little over an hour each way. It allowed me time to think about my loss and to put it in perspective.

Losing, I discovered, can be more telling than winning. It’s more important. You can learn a lot about a person by how they react to losing.

Take two fighters as an example. Mike Tyson was ferocious. He whipped everyone. People had already begun declaring him one of – if not the – greatest fighters of all time. Then he lost. Shortly, he started losing control of his life.

Evander Holyfield began his professional career by beating everyone in his weight class. He moved up to heavyweight and quickly did the same. He became champion. Then he lost. A few months later, he had a rematch with the man who defeated him. And he won. He won with heart – and on that day people began considering him to be one of the best.

A few years later, the two met. It’s no surprise that the one who handled losing, who gained from his loss, won the fight. History remembers Holyfield as a winner, a champion of heart and guts. History remembers Tyson as a thug who wasted his talent.

At thirty-five, nearly thirty-six, I cannot continue competing forever. It isn’t why I chose to study Tae Kwon Do. At the same time, I must answer for my loss. I owe it to myself.

I have decided to continue competing, to win one tournament. I know what I need to do to achieve this. I know my strengths and where I need to improve. I will win one. Then I can stop competing.

But I need to win one.

I owe that to myself.

A Family Affair

In the span of two days, the Anderson boys brought home seven Tae Kwon Do trophies.

If this sounds like bragging, I apologize. It is actually rather humbling to me. Let me explain.

First, as always, let's talk about my son. Jonathan is a medium-sized kid for his age. He is bright and he is fairly athletic. But he has unbelievable heart. He's a little Rocky. Friday afternoon, he earned his red-and-green belt. We were all very proud. Saturday at the Connecticut Open State Championships at Yale University, Jonathan participated in three events.

In forms, he started off well. He was crisp and clean -- and powerful. Unfortunately, he doesn't have a lot of confidence in his technique and stopped midway through, telling the judges that was all he knew. He was awarded third place for his effort.

Jonathan had been 2-0 in breaking competition. This time, he used the same techniques as in the Massachusetts championship. On first attempt, he broke boards using knife hand strike, roundhouse kick what at this point is his signature jumping front kick. He won first place, becoming a multi-state champion in breaking.

In sparring he fought hard for two rounds. It was his best performance ever. He won easily and earned first place.

In crunch time, my son gets better. He is the Derek Jeter of Tae Kwon Do.

I also had a big weekend. Friday I earned my orange belt. It was a great moment, made better because my masters awarded me Best Student of the Month. It was the second time I earned that honor -- the first time was in 1986 -- but the first time I have ever won a trophy for my performance. In anything.

Saturday I competed at the Championships in forms and sparring. I took first place in forms. Like father, like son -- I became a state champ. In sparring I was awarded a first place by default -- there were no competitors in my rank.

I did spar, however. We fought in two rounds. My opponent won the first round. I won the second, including knocking my opponent down when I connected on a kick as he was lifting his leg to kick me. However, he had more total points than I did at the end of the match and won. Barring any major news issue, I will address how I feel about losing in tomorrow's rant. Still, I was given a third place trophy for my effort.

So there it is. Two days. Two Andersons. One Best Student trophy, four first place trophies and two third place trophies.

Jonathan, at six, is just beginning to discover his talents and abilities. He is winning trophies and medals and will continue to do so for years to come. He is headed toward a brilliant career in Tae Kwon Do.

And this weekend, his father -- for the first time -- won. It's never too late for that first trophy.

The Grim(sley) Reaper

The face of the Steroid Era has changed several times through the past few years. The first poster boy, Ken Caminiti, died in the Bronx after an ingestion of other drugs. He was the one who estimated that about half the major leaguers took steroids.

Next up, of course, was Jason Giambi, who spent most of his time bumbling apologies and slumping. He has since returned to form. Whether it is cleanly or not remains to be seen.

Perhaps jealous of the spotlight, Jose Canseco wrote a book about steroids. He, then, became the face of the era. He also named names. Future potential hall of famers Mark McGwire, Rafael Palmeiro and Ivan Rodriguez were all implicated.

Then, in a scene reminiscient of Bill Clinton's Monica-gate, Rafael Palmeiro took center stage. He'd just become the fourth player in history to record 3,000 hits and 500 home runs. And tested positive.

Eyes shifted to Barry Bonds, his big head, BALCO, and his pursuit of Hank Aaron. That's where we have been headed.

Until Jason Grimsley.

Jason Grimsley?

Yes. He is the new poster child. More importantly, he can "bring down the house." He named names. Retired players. Active players. Teammates from teams like the Phillies of the early nineties (Lenny Dykstra? John Kruk? Darren Daulton?), the mid-nineties Indians (Jim Thome? Manny Ramirez? Roberto Alomar?), the Yankee dynasty (Paul O'Neill? Mariano Rivera? Derek Jeter?) and others.

He has been a teammate of Mike Sweeney, Carlos Beltran, Tim Salmon, Garret Anderson, Tino Martinez, Luis Gonzalez. And a certain pitcher known as the Rocket.

Are any of the names listed above blacked out in Grimsley's statement? I'm sure we will all know soon enough.

Imagine this, though:

What if the dynasty Yankees' two best players (Rivera and Jeter) were cheaters? Or if Manny Ramirez has been an offender since his days in Cleveland? Is the Red Sox curse-breaking legit? How about the Angels, who beat the Giants in seven games? If they cheated, who would really be the champions that year?

If Roger Clemens is named, the two greatest players in this generation (he and Bonds), defiled the game of baseball.

Again, I only speculate. I don't believe that all the players I named above are cheaters. I am confident that some were, however. And time (and Grimsley) will let me know which ones.

Only weeks ago, Barry Bonds passed Babe Ruth on the all-time home run list. Babe Ruth, the man who saved baseball from what had been the biggest scandal in its history, had dropped to third.

Now, I believe we need the Babe more than ever.

The More Things Change...

"I don't believe there's any issue more important than this one."

These are the words of Republican Senator David Vitter from Louisiana.

He wasn't talking about Katrina aid, or rebuilding the once great city of New Orleans. He wasn't talking about the war on terror. Nor was he even discussing our occupation of Iraq.

No, the Louisiana Senator believes the single most important issue of the day is banning same sex marriage.

But wait, he's not the only one.

Republican Senator John Thune of South Dakota said, "The federal marriage amendment debate simply is an opportunity for us to affirm our support for marriage."

Supporting marriage by banning it for some?

We blasted Iran a few weeks ago for mandating that Jews, Christians and Zoroastrians identify themselves with a mark on their clothing. We compared them to the Nazis.

This is no different.

There are people in this country -- people with power and authority -- that think no differently than did the Romans regarding Christians and Jews, the Inquisition, the Russians and their pogroms, the Nazis or the current regime in Iran. The level of the offense is certainly different, I admit that. But the motive is exactly the same.

These are bad motives.

Let us not forget.

* * * * *

It has been 1,730 days since the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. Since then, we have caught thousands of Mexicans trying to sneak over the border in an attempt to create a better lives for themselves. But Osama bin Laden still roams free.

* * * * *

We are exercising the utmost caution in out diplomatic dealings with Iran. I am quite pleased at our attempts so far. Don't you think we could have done that with Iraq and saved thousands of lives?

* * * * *

On a lighter note, it turns out all is not lost in my little baseball universe. I had created a backup of my baseball file. All I was missing were the stats from 2006, which I simulated last night. I am "back in the game."

Do I Milk Carton This?

Everone has hobbies of some sort, right? Well, you should.

But you should take very good care of your hobby, whatever that may be. Because if something occurred to your hobby, you will feel a big sense of loss.

As I do right now.

Here is my story:

My cousin had turned me on to a game called Micro League Baseball back in the Commodore 64 days (for you young readers, it was the personal computer of choice in the Eighties). I bought it and played it quite a bit, pitting the 1978 Yankees against the 1955 Dodgers, or the '27 Bombers against the '73 A's. It was fun.

Then I went off to college and my R.A. was also a Micro League fan. He, though, had some additional floppies for it that allowed him to create teams using fictitious names. He developed a Hilliard Hall team. I was the secondbaseman. I was also hooked for life on computer baseball.

In 1991 I started my own team in Micro League Baseball, using my friends' names from home. I created a team -- the White Plains Patriots. I was off and running. I kept the stats from year to year. I traded people -- all the fun things you do with a computer baseball game.

Over the years, I obviously upgraded. I went to Hardball 3. Then Hardball 4. Then Hardball 5 and 6. The latest addition was High Heat 2003 -- my best game yet. By this time, friends were retired in the game, I had friends playing for several different teams. Some had all-star years. I also picked up a cheat code where I could add all the old stats into the game so historical records could be kept.

In 2006 I began the season with my character playing thirdbase (I moved myself in 1999) for the Tamp Bay Devil Rays. We started strong and were just two games in back of the Yankees for first place in the AL East. We had just began a tough series with the Angels -- a team that owned us -- and lost the first game.

Last night I went on to play the game and...

I couldn't find my league. It was gone. Disappeared.

I searched everywhere. It was nowhere to be found. 16 years of a hobby down the tubes.

Needless to say, I've been better.

Some Different Points-of-View

It's all about your particular point-of-view.

I think I have written before what my favorite professor had taught me many years ago. Every way of seeing is a way of not seeing. How true this really is.

This statement can be applied to so many facets of life it could fill dozens of texts, each thousands of pages in length. And still, we probably would find other ways to look at things.

Like politics.

Or religion.

Or the environment.

Or family concerns.

Or self-fulfillment.

I'm going to take a quick -- and I do mean quick -- stab at that last one for a minute. My father had written that all of us struggle. This is true. Life isn't just complicated. Life is downright hard. To make matters worse, there are reminders out there at every corner that shows us how someone may have a better life. Someone else's opportunities and decisions led them to the success that we wanted for ourselves. It's like a 24 hour I told you so. And it hurts.

But it doesn't have to.

For every person out there who has their continuous uphill battle, there is someone else with a steeper hill to climb. This is important. If we look beyond the fence of our lives, we'll see that everyone has their own baggage. The rich guy whose money you envy? Maybe he's so busy working he has no life -- no way to enjoy his wealth. The "family man" who has the house, the minivan and the 2.2 kids? He's knee-deep in debt and feels trapped by his own surroundings. The single man who goes home with different girls every weekend? He is alone alot. And I do mean alone. The man who seems to have it all? He wants what you have.

Trust me.

It's all point-of-view.

My father also wrote that whether you say you can or whether you say you can't, you are right (by the way, my father's brilliance can be found in any of his books -- Courage is a Three-Letter Word, The Greatest Risk of All, Read With Me, The Confidence Course and Meant To Be -- read them all). Think about that.

You want to feel good about yourself? Then tell yourself you can feel good about yourself.

But be honest with yourself. Money, possessions and fame are not the vehicles to feeling good about yourself. Don't believe me? Go look up how many rich and famous people kill themselves. Those things may make you comfortable. But they won't make you feel better about yourself.

Watching your child learn, especially when you have taught her or him, is the way. Loving someone -- for real -- is the way. Living for your memories, your experiences, that is the way. Making this hard life a little better for someone else -- now that is the way.

It has taken me a long and painful road to get to this realization. I am lucky to have realized it so young. But it was hard. It took years of abuse, of living with depression, of nearly killing myself, of finding personal redemption and a new commitment to my self to get there.

My life is really no different than it was two-and-a-half years ago when I nearly threw it all away. It's my perspective -- my point-of-view -- that has changed.

And I very much like what I see.

Even the Romans Had Better Taste

I went to Yahoo! earlier to retrieve my email and there was a photo of Paris Hilton on the home page. After nearly coughing up my granny smith at the sight of her, I read the caption that Paris and Nicole Ritchie (who, thankfully, was not pictured) would be doing a fourth season of A Simple Life.

I flashed back to my younger years and the television that was on as I grew up. Images of Alan Alda in M*A*S*H, Bill Cosby on the show named after him, Ted Danson on Cheers and the wonderful cast of Taxi popped through my head.

Now, I am not one for glorifying the old days, but something has truly happened to the American psyche that we get off on two rich dimwits making fun of everyday Americans. And make no mistake about it, the show is about making fun of us, not the rich girls.

Taking it a step further, I realized how large an audience American Idol has. Millions and millions of Americans enjoy the talent show and, many in particular, the acid remarks from T-shirt-wearing Simon Cowell. We love to watch people fail. Look how popular the early shows are, when even Paula Abdul (once a talented performer in her own right) turns into the nasty girl in the playground that makes fun of the other kids by laughing at the contestants.

And it's not just television. One of the great aspects of classic rock was that the music was truly good. The musicianship was fantastic. The songs had meaning. Where has that gone? Sure, Pearl Jam and Black Crowes still tour, as do many of the bands from earlier. But the concerts are more a celebration of what they used to do. Even Velvet Revolver is a band of musicians from a long since-gone era. Years like 1975 (Toys In The Attic, Physical Graffiti, A Night at the Opera, etc.) or 1991 (Use Your Illusion I & II, Metallica, Ten, etc.) are not likely to happen again. New music consists of computer-created percussion and sampling (from artists from 1975 and 1991).

Athletes, thanks to ESPN, are more recognized for their showboating than their abilities. Everyone has a publicist.

And no one makes a difference.

I know I sound exactly like baby boomers about my generation here. But it isn't about the generation. It's about what we are feeding them.

Our entertainment industry lacks substance.

Our politics, our culture, our very way of life, is quickly following suit.