Friday, November 27, 2009

Stop Playing With Your Balls

I took a sports marketing class once in high school. My friend; an avid skier, and myself; a snowboarder, enrolled together in an attempt to find a way to justify planning ski trips on school time. The plan seemed fool proof, as it was a class full of jocks taught by the basketball coach in pursuit of an easy "A".

The entire course was to: 1. Design a Baseball Stadium, 2. Maintain a Fantasy Basketball Team and 3. raise your GPA enough to play on the sports team. That's it. Even the most brain dead of brawn sat shoulders back with the confidence of someone who actually possessed an IQ, and since my GPA was already high enough to participate on sports teams, I figured this was a piece of cake.

Things didn't exactly go according to plan. Besides designing a stadium that revolved around snow sports (which our teacher dubbed a poor marketing strategy for the MLB), our fantasy Basketball team came in last due to our poor draft choices. Yes, the class got a good laugh as our top three draft picks were all retired. Shouldn't the joke have been on them? I thought it was called fantasy, right?

Needless to say there were two students in the class that didn't get A's, and they were both in the two man group that my friend and I were a part of.

Today I was all but skunked at the beach. The forecast predicted wind all day getting stronger in the afternoon. In reality I waited in my van for three hours to get 15 minutes of wind before a thunderstorm rolled through and shut everything down. I was bummed, I'll admit, but those 15 minutes were glorious. More glorious than any moment on any sports team I ever played for, and certainly more glorious than the 6 hours I spent watching Thanksgiving day football yesterday. It was a reaffirmation of a lesson I learned almost ten years ago, that even 15 minutes of sliding sideways beats a life time of playing with balls.


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