Fear is a funny thing. It can freeze a person in their tracks, make them unable to do the simplest things. And it can make you do truly exceptional things, like lifting a two ton truck off of an infant or fight your way out of a burning building. I got asked what I am scared of this week, and I gave the usual platitudes ... I am scared of dying, and of really deep water in the ocean. Basic, "everybody says that" stuff.
And I got to thinking about it for whatever reason it is that your mind thinks of stuff, and something breathtakingly obvious hit me like a ton of bricks. I am terrified of failure.
I should have known that already, because I have played sports my whole life. I have never been actively scared while playing a sport, never feared a curveball or a lightening quick guard, but every athlete fears not being good enough. Michael Jordan would never admit it, but when he was "cut" by his high school team, he was scared that he wasn't quite good enough. Tiger Woods has never been scared on a golf course, but I bet late at night after he is done meeting up with a waitress from Waffle House, he feels that doubt creeping in. "Can I hit that cut shot I used to, has my putting game abandoned me." To athletes that isn't fear. Doubt, sure. But when it comes down to it, doubt is fear, just not as concentrated. It is diluted, like mixing a good drink. Doubt is a Jack and Coke with a lime twist. Fear is a double shot of it straight.
I bring this up because I am pretty scared right now. I am actively fearful about what the future has in store for me. I got straight up rejected by my number one internship choice, the place that would really put me in a position to accomplish what I want to get done. I am in a new town trying to get myself settled in without a super solid job to give me any peace of mind. And the worst part, the thing that has me really scared, is I am stuck in writers hell: I want to write and cannot for the life of me come up with anything good.
My usual stand by, sports stuff, is drawing dead. I can't think of anything good to put on the page. So I have resorted to a movie review, and that has been it for the last couple of weeks. And that took a ton of effort to get done. I am not sure what the cause of this writer's block is, lord knows that I keep up with enough sports stuff on a daily basis to be able to formulate a strong opinion on something, but as of lately I am going to the well and it is coming up dry. That lack of spark, of good ideas, has me shaking in my shoes. Writer's block has me more scared than I've been in a long time, and as of right now it isn't showing any signs of going away. So here is to some good ideas hitting me over the weekend, and getting some good posts out so I can go back to posting every other day like I was last month.
Ryan
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Saturday, May 18, 2013
My boy is wicked smart
Sorry for the long delay between posts, I have finished up my last college classes, picked up and moved to a new town, started an internship, and landed two new jobs all in the last two weeks. So being busy is an understatement. I watched Good Will Hunting last night, and had some thoughts on it. So here ya go.
Good Will Hunting is one of my favorite movies, probably #2 behind The Shawshank Redemption. The movie is really heavy on dialogue, so the movie might drag to some people, but it has two scenes that are at direct opposites of the emotional spectrum.
The most famous scene, the one that everybody knows, is the bar scene. Ben Affleck's character tries to pick up Minnie Driver using one of those predictable "She knows it is coming but I don't care" one liners to start a conversation. After some Harvard prick interrupts and tries to humiliate him, Matt Damon's Will Hunting comes in to absolutely destroy the guy. He quotes the book the guy is plagiarizing, even telling him the page number. After the confrontation, Will Hunting get's the girls phone number and sees the doucher from earlier at a diner. He walks up to the window and gives two of the most famous lines in movies.
"Do you like apples"
Shaking his head, "Yea."
"Well I got her number. How do you like them apples!" And scene.
That sequence has me rolling on the floor, peeing-my-pants-it-is-so-funny laughing every time that I see it. Matt Damon plays the part so well, delivers the line with just the right whatever it is to deliver a line just right, that it makes the whole movie. The scene is hysterically funny, and one of the most memorable moments in the entire 126 minute movie.
An hour later, an equally memorable scene happens, again with Minnie Driver's character and Will Hunting. I was watching it with my girlfriend's roommate, and she said something pretty deep while the movie was playing.
"This is pretty hard to watch."
It was the scene in the movie where Minnie Driver asks Matt Damon to move to California with her, and he loses his mind. He freaks out, telling her about the horrific abuse he suffered as a orphan, and how she cannot possibly understand anything that he has gone through. And when he stops screaming at her, Minnie says that she will leave him alone if he doesn't love her. At this point, everyone and their mother can tell that the couple is in love, that they have a really good thing going, and this girl is the one who is going to make Will Hunting let people inside of the bubble that he has put up for the entire 20 years of his life.
And he takes a breath, looks her square in the eyes, and says "I do not love you."
It is honestly painful to watch. The whole scene is gut wrenching, when you finally hear about the abuse Will has gone through and you see why he is the way that he is. It is borderline uncomfortable watching Will walk away from the woman he loves and seeing her crumble like a wall built on sand.
The fact that these two scenes occur within an hour of each other, and that Matt Damon is a good enough actor to play a role on such extremes of the emotional spectrum is one reason that the movie captivates me. I could watch it over and over again, and pick up on something I missed the first time, a little quote or throwaway line that ends up being incredibly insightful if you look close enough to catch it. I highly recommend the movie to anybody that has not seen it, it is an absolute classic.
Good Will Hunting is one of my favorite movies, probably #2 behind The Shawshank Redemption. The movie is really heavy on dialogue, so the movie might drag to some people, but it has two scenes that are at direct opposites of the emotional spectrum.
The most famous scene, the one that everybody knows, is the bar scene. Ben Affleck's character tries to pick up Minnie Driver using one of those predictable "She knows it is coming but I don't care" one liners to start a conversation. After some Harvard prick interrupts and tries to humiliate him, Matt Damon's Will Hunting comes in to absolutely destroy the guy. He quotes the book the guy is plagiarizing, even telling him the page number. After the confrontation, Will Hunting get's the girls phone number and sees the doucher from earlier at a diner. He walks up to the window and gives two of the most famous lines in movies.
"Do you like apples"
Shaking his head, "Yea."
"Well I got her number. How do you like them apples!" And scene.
That sequence has me rolling on the floor, peeing-my-pants-it-is-so-funny laughing every time that I see it. Matt Damon plays the part so well, delivers the line with just the right whatever it is to deliver a line just right, that it makes the whole movie. The scene is hysterically funny, and one of the most memorable moments in the entire 126 minute movie.
An hour later, an equally memorable scene happens, again with Minnie Driver's character and Will Hunting. I was watching it with my girlfriend's roommate, and she said something pretty deep while the movie was playing.
"This is pretty hard to watch."
It was the scene in the movie where Minnie Driver asks Matt Damon to move to California with her, and he loses his mind. He freaks out, telling her about the horrific abuse he suffered as a orphan, and how she cannot possibly understand anything that he has gone through. And when he stops screaming at her, Minnie says that she will leave him alone if he doesn't love her. At this point, everyone and their mother can tell that the couple is in love, that they have a really good thing going, and this girl is the one who is going to make Will Hunting let people inside of the bubble that he has put up for the entire 20 years of his life.
And he takes a breath, looks her square in the eyes, and says "I do not love you."
It is honestly painful to watch. The whole scene is gut wrenching, when you finally hear about the abuse Will has gone through and you see why he is the way that he is. It is borderline uncomfortable watching Will walk away from the woman he loves and seeing her crumble like a wall built on sand.
The fact that these two scenes occur within an hour of each other, and that Matt Damon is a good enough actor to play a role on such extremes of the emotional spectrum is one reason that the movie captivates me. I could watch it over and over again, and pick up on something I missed the first time, a little quote or throwaway line that ends up being incredibly insightful if you look close enough to catch it. I highly recommend the movie to anybody that has not seen it, it is an absolute classic.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
The day I became a fan
I remember the day I became a baseball fan. I had always been a baseball player, and a baseball lover, but until Thursday, October 16th, 2003, I wasn’t really a baseball fan. I have had plenty of memorable days as a baseball fan since then: walking into Yankee Stadium for the first time, teasing my great-grandmother about her beloved Red Sox going down 3-0 in the 2004 American League Championship Series, heckling Boone Logan and having him respond, catching a batting practice homerun with my hat only to have to the man behind me take it from me, and watching Ubaldo Jiminez throw a no hitter are just a few of my memories as a baseball fan. But without October 16th, 2003, I may have never become as obsessed with actually watching baseball games as I am today.
I remember October 16th because it was game 7 of a series between the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox to determine who would go to the World Series. My dad sat me down for the 8pm first pitch because “you have to watch Game 7’s, there is nothing better in sports.” So my 12 year old self sat and watchedPedro Martinez have a pitching performance for the ages. I was amazed at the difference in the pitchers, Roger Clemens and Martinez: Clemens getting battered by the Sox, leaving in the 4th inning after allowing 4 runs; Martinez baffling the Yankees with unhittable changeups, blazing fastballs, and breaking pitches that literally went from chin to ankle, dominating the home team for 7 innings. It was getting late, and after the 7th inning I was made to go to bed with the Red Sox ahead 5-2 and Martinez probably coming out of the game to let the relief pitchers handle the rest. My dad sent me to bed, saying, “That was about as good of pitching as it gets, I’m glad you saw that.” I laid in my bed for what seemed like hours, thinking about the game and telling myself I would see the rest on Sportscenter the next morning. I couldn’t sleep; I was too much in awe of watching such quality baseball being played in such an intense environment. I was still awake staring at the ceiling when my dad eased the door to my room open and whispered “Ryan, are you awake? You aren’t going to believe what happened, come downstairs.” I sprinted down stairs and watched highlights of Grady Little leaving Martinez in the game and having their lead evaporate and the game go to extra innings. I came downstairs for the eleventh inning, my dad figuring that I wouldn’t want to miss such a classic ballgame. I watched Mariano Rivera, the greatest closer of all time, obliterate the Sox with just one pitch. Three straight batters were retired on his legendary cutter, and I decided right then to learn that pitch for when I took the mound the following spring. In the bottom half of the inning, knuckleballer Tim Wakefield threw butterflies that, at the age of 12, I said I could hit. My dad laughed and said its harder than it looks, he would have to throw me some knucklers one day and we would see how I did. I watched Aaron Boone come to the plate, and in one moment, seal my fate as a baseball fan forever. He hit a bomb to left field, over the famous short porch, and sending the Bronx Bombers to the World Series. I was in shock. I had never seen such a dramatic moment in my entire life. I went to bed and didn’t sleep at all, I couldn’t stop thinking about the game and imagining myself in Aaron Boone’s shoes.
10 years later, I can still remember every second of that game. It was such a impactful thing to a 12 year old, to be struck in awe by a baseball game on television. It made me fall in love with the watching of baseball games, something I had never done because my baseball-playing career wasn’t over yet. Now, my baseball playing days are over, but I still sit down and watch baseball while I’m reading for class, or when the Yankees are on cable. Every time I watch, I see something new. I see a new situation, or watch a pitcher twist the batter into a pretzel with a curveball at his shoelaces. And every time baseball strikes me with wonder, I remember watching Aaron Boone, and I thank my dad for sitting me down to watch that game.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
"Look, there is Lou Gehrig's bat"
The concourses were really small, and the bathrooms still had those troughs where everyone had to line up in the men's room. I knew immediately why they were building a new one, and at the same time I couldn't figure out why they would build a new one. It was the first time I had seen the place, this building that held more baseball history than any other, and it only had one more month left for the Bleacher Creatures to do the roll call during the top of the 1st inning. Yankee Stadium only had 13 more regular season games left, and it was the first time I had seen it.
My dad, my twin brother, and myself were finally making the trek up to New York City from North Carolina to see Yankee Stadium before they tore it down. My dad had been there years before, but it was a totally new experience for me and my brother. We went up on a Saturday morning to catch two day games against the Blue Jays, with Roy Halladay going in the second game. As soon as we deplaned at LaGuardia, all we could talk about was the history we knew about the stadium: Mantle almost hitting a ball out of the whole thing, Ruth and Gehrig as part of the Murderer's Row teams, and Munson and Bench battling it out for catcher supremacy. The cab ride to the stadium was almost a blur, all I could think about was going to a place I had only seen in pictures and on TV. We walked up to the stadium, and I could barely contain my excitement. We walked in the front doors underneath the iconic Yankee Stadium sign, and towards our seats behind first base on the middle deck. We looked out and saw Monument Park, the impossibly short porches in the corners and the way the wall just kept going and going in left center field. The thing that I remember most about sitting in my seat two hours before first pitch isn't the conversation. It was soaking in so many baseball memories with my dad who taught me how to play the game, and my brother who I had always played it with. Everywhere I looked something new, something I had only read about caught my eye. As cliche as it sounds, it was almost like going to a really old cathedral and seeing all of the history in the place.
The first game featured two nobodies as starting pitchers, John Parrish for the Jays and Darrell Rasner for the Yankees. And yea, I just had to look up who started the game. That first game I was so overwhelmed with just being in the building, all I can remember is what happened in the eighth inning. The Blue Jays brought in a reliever who I had never heard of, some guy named League, and I was talking with my brother when I heard my dad tell us to watch this guy warm up. I caught the next throw, and it was absolute gas. We all wondered how hard he threw, and were taking guesses when Mr. Steroids himself, A-Rod stepped up. The first pitch was a blur, and got clocked at 99 miles per hour. A-Rod couldn't handle the heat, and went down swinging, along with Jason Giambi and Xavier Nady. To this day, the only thing I remember baseball wise about my first game at Yankee Stadium was some guy named Brandon League throwing 100 mile per hour heat past 2 would be hall of famers, and a scrub named Xavier Nady.
League ended up being the winning pitcher.
Everything else I remember about that day is the sheer joy I felt in experiencing one of baseball's treasures with the two people I had learned to love baseball with.
My dad, my twin brother, and myself were finally making the trek up to New York City from North Carolina to see Yankee Stadium before they tore it down. My dad had been there years before, but it was a totally new experience for me and my brother. We went up on a Saturday morning to catch two day games against the Blue Jays, with Roy Halladay going in the second game. As soon as we deplaned at LaGuardia, all we could talk about was the history we knew about the stadium: Mantle almost hitting a ball out of the whole thing, Ruth and Gehrig as part of the Murderer's Row teams, and Munson and Bench battling it out for catcher supremacy. The cab ride to the stadium was almost a blur, all I could think about was going to a place I had only seen in pictures and on TV. We walked up to the stadium, and I could barely contain my excitement. We walked in the front doors underneath the iconic Yankee Stadium sign, and towards our seats behind first base on the middle deck. We looked out and saw Monument Park, the impossibly short porches in the corners and the way the wall just kept going and going in left center field. The thing that I remember most about sitting in my seat two hours before first pitch isn't the conversation. It was soaking in so many baseball memories with my dad who taught me how to play the game, and my brother who I had always played it with. Everywhere I looked something new, something I had only read about caught my eye. As cliche as it sounds, it was almost like going to a really old cathedral and seeing all of the history in the place.
The first game featured two nobodies as starting pitchers, John Parrish for the Jays and Darrell Rasner for the Yankees. And yea, I just had to look up who started the game. That first game I was so overwhelmed with just being in the building, all I can remember is what happened in the eighth inning. The Blue Jays brought in a reliever who I had never heard of, some guy named League, and I was talking with my brother when I heard my dad tell us to watch this guy warm up. I caught the next throw, and it was absolute gas. We all wondered how hard he threw, and were taking guesses when Mr. Steroids himself, A-Rod stepped up. The first pitch was a blur, and got clocked at 99 miles per hour. A-Rod couldn't handle the heat, and went down swinging, along with Jason Giambi and Xavier Nady. To this day, the only thing I remember baseball wise about my first game at Yankee Stadium was some guy named Brandon League throwing 100 mile per hour heat past 2 would be hall of famers, and a scrub named Xavier Nady.
League ended up being the winning pitcher.
Everything else I remember about that day is the sheer joy I felt in experiencing one of baseball's treasures with the two people I had learned to love baseball with.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Stephen Curry
I went to high school in Davidson, NC, and our basketball coach had some connections in the athletic department at Davidson College. Before our conference tournament my Senior year, he took us on a "field trip" to watch a Davidson basketball practice and maybe shoot with them a little bit. We walked into the practice gym and watched the Wildcats go through all of their drills and game planning for their next game against whatever over matched SoCon team they were about to play. As they split off into shooting groups, I followed the skinny kid in the #30 jersey who looked like he was about 15 years old and 150 pounds soaking wet.
I am talking, of course, about Stephen Curry.
He had just become a national superstar the previous year by almost single handedly dragging Davidson to the Final Four, and was becoming one of the best shooters anybody had ever seen. So it was a treat when I watched him and a team manager go off to a side court and work on his shooting. He took probably 100 jump shots in 5 minutes, from close range all the way out to 40 feet. And until he got waaaay past the three point line, he never missed two shots in a row. Almost every attempt barely moved the net as it went through the basket, and I was in awe seeing someone shoot a basketball like that. It almost looked effortless as he shot the ball off cuts, off the dribble, spotting up, putting the ball in the basket like some sort of robot.
Sunday night, Stephen Curry had a game for the ages in the NBA playoffs. He scored 22 points in the third quarter, and pretty much buried the Memphis Grizzlies by himself. Every time I watch him shoot, I think back to watching him in that little side court at Davidson College, making the act of shooting a basketball look impossibly easy.
After they were done practicing, my high school team had a short little scrimmage out on the floor, and being the three point shooter on the team, I tried to make at least a couple of shots in front of a guy who literally missed maybe 10 times out of a hundred in his shoot around. I made a shot or two, and was very happy with the fact that we even got to play on a college basketball floor in front of players who were much better than I could ever hope to be.
After we got dont scrimmaging, all of the Davidson players said hello and talked with us for a few minutes, and I was struck by how down to earth Curry was. He knew how good he was going to be, probably more than all of the NBA scouts who watched him play and saw the same thing that the ACC coaches saw in him when he played in high school. Looking back and seeing him like a basketball metronome, swishing shot after shot from ridiculous distances, I probably should have seen the talent that all of America saw on Sunday night.
I see him on tv scorching NBA players and think back to that humble kid who had a supernatural ability to throw a ball through a basket on a side gym during a rainy day in Davidson, NC. He probably doesn't remember that day, but I guarantee that all of us who were there remember it like it was yesterday.
It makes me really happy when good people find success in whatever they do. Stephen Curry is one of those good people, and that is why I root for him whenever I watch him play.
I am talking, of course, about Stephen Curry.
He had just become a national superstar the previous year by almost single handedly dragging Davidson to the Final Four, and was becoming one of the best shooters anybody had ever seen. So it was a treat when I watched him and a team manager go off to a side court and work on his shooting. He took probably 100 jump shots in 5 minutes, from close range all the way out to 40 feet. And until he got waaaay past the three point line, he never missed two shots in a row. Almost every attempt barely moved the net as it went through the basket, and I was in awe seeing someone shoot a basketball like that. It almost looked effortless as he shot the ball off cuts, off the dribble, spotting up, putting the ball in the basket like some sort of robot.
Sunday night, Stephen Curry had a game for the ages in the NBA playoffs. He scored 22 points in the third quarter, and pretty much buried the Memphis Grizzlies by himself. Every time I watch him shoot, I think back to watching him in that little side court at Davidson College, making the act of shooting a basketball look impossibly easy.
After they were done practicing, my high school team had a short little scrimmage out on the floor, and being the three point shooter on the team, I tried to make at least a couple of shots in front of a guy who literally missed maybe 10 times out of a hundred in his shoot around. I made a shot or two, and was very happy with the fact that we even got to play on a college basketball floor in front of players who were much better than I could ever hope to be.
After we got dont scrimmaging, all of the Davidson players said hello and talked with us for a few minutes, and I was struck by how down to earth Curry was. He knew how good he was going to be, probably more than all of the NBA scouts who watched him play and saw the same thing that the ACC coaches saw in him when he played in high school. Looking back and seeing him like a basketball metronome, swishing shot after shot from ridiculous distances, I probably should have seen the talent that all of America saw on Sunday night.
I see him on tv scorching NBA players and think back to that humble kid who had a supernatural ability to throw a ball through a basket on a side gym during a rainy day in Davidson, NC. He probably doesn't remember that day, but I guarantee that all of us who were there remember it like it was yesterday.
It makes me really happy when good people find success in whatever they do. Stephen Curry is one of those good people, and that is why I root for him whenever I watch him play.
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