Everyone awaited to hear the news of the young, yet older more sagacious Lebron James and his decision on free agency. It was touted by ESPN as...wait for it...The Decision. Ha! Yeah...that's our ESPN.
When the final question was posed Live on-air of course, Mr. James announced that he would be joining two other NBA superstars (Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh, respectively) down in South Beach; Miami people! Miami!
He further shared his nostalgia with the world re: leaving Cleveland and moving on. And yet, ESPN had the audacity to showcase a clip of James' #23 jersey being burned post-announcement in some field in Cleveland. Tactful? No. Classy. No. Trying to get a rise out of Lebron James? Priceless.
Mr. James did none of the above and became the exemplum we all had hoped. No ire here, but one can believe he felt it. Then came the Cleveland fans and shouts of betrayal and the like. Puh--lease! This man took a city like Cleveland and for seven fat years took it to new heights; however, there will be seven lean years to come that is for sure!
All of this aside--I have no problem with any of it until I came across the following news piece and quote from the AP:
'LeBron James needs to go to another team with two superstars already so he can win a championship. We will win a championship before [the Heat] do.'
Ok. No problem with that so far. But then came this:
In a phone interview with the AP, Gilbert says "people have covered up for [James] for way too long. Tonight we saw who he really is."
Gilbert says James quit on the Cavs during their second-round series against the Boston Celtics, who rallied from a 2-1 deficit to eliminate Cleveland.
"He quit," Gilbert said. "Not just in Game 5, but in Games 2, 4 and 6. Watch the tape. The Boston series was unlike anything in the history of sports for a superstar."
And then it hit me. Mr. James took a serious pay cut (so it was not about the money); he tried to acquire Carols Boozer to come to the Cavaliers, but Boozer was not interested in trading Cleveland for Chicago. No way! And still, he held a one hour special where knowingly there would be sponsors and the like waiting on bended knee for Mr. James' announcement; the end result, ALL proceeds would go to benefit The Boys and Girls Club (BGC); further, The University of Phoenix would award an additional $500,000 to BGC and five scholarships to boot! I mean what a bad guy, right? Wrong!
If there was ever a time in NBA history where the likes of such a free agent could condescend and look over his rose colored Pradas it would be Lebron James! At this time for this moment before these fans--it would be capitalism and business and all of the marxist political philosophies et al. But not Mr. James. How about Mr. Gilbert? The President of the Cleveland Cavaliers ends up looking like (to me at least, and perhaps others with class and ethical decorum) the rotten, sore loser.
Mr. Dan Gilbert it is you sir who has disgraced the face of your team; you are to blame for your candid, sourpus remarks; and the whole world was and is watching to see, to hear what other audacious remarks you can make for losing a stellar exemplum to the game. I was not a Lebron fan, and am certainly not a Dan Gilbert supporter, but the former has MY respect and the latter can...hmph...not even worth it.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
RE: The passing of a great man...
My phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing and I kept ignoring, ignoring, ignoring until I finally heard the words from my brother: "yeah bro, dad is gone."
On 9 April 2010 at 7:11 a.m. I lost a great, great man--my father. This truth has been coming in waves, with its emotional troughs and crests, and I have no experience to really bounce this off of. My grandfather's passing was a tough one, but he was 80 and then some; my grandmother also was nearing that mark when she passed; my great-grandparents lived about a century each! My dad, mid 60s.
For anyone who has loved and lost, I have now truly entered, unwillingly, into that circle of experience. It hurts, I am hurting and everything else seems so small and insignificant.
My future memory has been stolen from me: my dad watching me accept my Ph.D. as I walk across the stage, my dad watching me get married to my best friend and best half, and him holding and bouncing and correcting his grandchildren as they consider him old fashion and a bit out dated.
My father's work ethic was legendary, and if I could have even half of his character I would be a very, very accomplished and formidable citizen. As it stands, I will never be my father, but I can try to remain his son.
I miss you and love you dad--every day...
On 9 April 2010 at 7:11 a.m. I lost a great, great man--my father. This truth has been coming in waves, with its emotional troughs and crests, and I have no experience to really bounce this off of. My grandfather's passing was a tough one, but he was 80 and then some; my grandmother also was nearing that mark when she passed; my great-grandparents lived about a century each! My dad, mid 60s.
For anyone who has loved and lost, I have now truly entered, unwillingly, into that circle of experience. It hurts, I am hurting and everything else seems so small and insignificant.
My future memory has been stolen from me: my dad watching me accept my Ph.D. as I walk across the stage, my dad watching me get married to my best friend and best half, and him holding and bouncing and correcting his grandchildren as they consider him old fashion and a bit out dated.
My father's work ethic was legendary, and if I could have even half of his character I would be a very, very accomplished and formidable citizen. As it stands, I will never be my father, but I can try to remain his son.
I miss you and love you dad--every day...
Monday, January 18, 2010
U betta Belieze it: Imprints Collated
So today we got back from a cultural excursion at Gayle's Point, traversing the Mayan Mountains and surviving the Hummingbird Lookout Highway (believe me, it's treacherous) on the way back.
But first, let me share with you my host family and service-learning experience. Imagine a kind grandmotherly figure cooking for you and meeting your every need in a rather rustic and lower-income household sort of way; add to this an opportunity to build, from scratch, a septic holding cell for a building which serves as a community center with the local construction crew; and culminate with the feeding of emaciated cows and horses as well as the sampling of the local wines, and you have yourself one heck of a trip, via Crooked Tree, in Belize.
I even got a chance to read through the Defective version of Mandeville's Travels, read through A Book of Middle English and of course cherry-top my reading lust (or is it list) with Piers Anthony's Night Mare (uhm, yeah...a Xanth novel!). Ah...good reading.
I'm now counting down the hours before I depart this country; the kids are extemporizing around the proverbial fire pit, and I just got back with Dr. A from the local watering hole called "Amigos".
All in all, my trip to Belize has been a fruitful one and it was good to see, touch, taste and feel the political, ethnic and racial, as well as the otherwise, cultural Girardian violence evoked by the indigenous hordes. I am the better for it, and I fondly will remember (in the medieval subjunctive):
Whom Jah bless, no man curse...
'Till next we meet Belize, Belizeans and creeping things of this jungle world.
--FTjr.
But first, let me share with you my host family and service-learning experience. Imagine a kind grandmotherly figure cooking for you and meeting your every need in a rather rustic and lower-income household sort of way; add to this an opportunity to build, from scratch, a septic holding cell for a building which serves as a community center with the local construction crew; and culminate with the feeding of emaciated cows and horses as well as the sampling of the local wines, and you have yourself one heck of a trip, via Crooked Tree, in Belize.
I even got a chance to read through the Defective version of Mandeville's Travels, read through A Book of Middle English and of course cherry-top my reading lust (or is it list) with Piers Anthony's Night Mare (uhm, yeah...a Xanth novel!). Ah...good reading.
I'm now counting down the hours before I depart this country; the kids are extemporizing around the proverbial fire pit, and I just got back with Dr. A from the local watering hole called "Amigos".
All in all, my trip to Belize has been a fruitful one and it was good to see, touch, taste and feel the political, ethnic and racial, as well as the otherwise, cultural Girardian violence evoked by the indigenous hordes. I am the better for it, and I fondly will remember (in the medieval subjunctive):
Whom Jah bless, no man curse...
'Till next we meet Belize, Belizeans and creeping things of this jungle world.
--FTjr.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Belize: Imprint of Day 2
Today was not as eventful as yeasterday; still, we were able to see some Mayan ruins and shop at an old village called San Ignacio--a remnant community founded by Spanish missionaries.
The food has been quite delightful although some folks continue to get sick. The "G-man" survived today although give it a few hours.
I should have mentioned in my earlier post that the "G-man's" legend began with the loss of a hat while investigating the very cockpit of the plane that landed us in Miami. This of course was followed by a slip in the mud, the loss of a sandle, the loss of an oar, possible poison branches scratching his face on a bus ride, the flipping of a canoe, him floating down the river, and who knows what else has occurred.
Suffice it to say that the trip continues to be a rather syncretic mixture of cultural awareness, good food and spectacular flora and fauna opportunities. Tomorrow, we go spelunking.
The food has been quite delightful although some folks continue to get sick. The "G-man" survived today although give it a few hours.
I should have mentioned in my earlier post that the "G-man's" legend began with the loss of a hat while investigating the very cockpit of the plane that landed us in Miami. This of course was followed by a slip in the mud, the loss of a sandle, the loss of an oar, possible poison branches scratching his face on a bus ride, the flipping of a canoe, him floating down the river, and who knows what else has occurred.
Suffice it to say that the trip continues to be a rather syncretic mixture of cultural awareness, good food and spectacular flora and fauna opportunities. Tomorrow, we go spelunking.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Belize: Imprint of Day 1
So today we went to the Belize Zoo for a guided, "educational" tour to observe the animals indigenous to this Central American paradise. Look! Let me just say that it was a grand experience--complete with a tapir, the national animal of Belize by the way, peeing on me.
Not to be outdone, I fed a live jaguar named Junior, which incidentally means in Mayan: the one who kills its prey in one bound. After the aromatic zoo, we came back to base to eat a hearty lunch.
Our next trip was to canoe the Sibun River. And yes, some of our members fell in and we did have to rescue them. Awesome! In the midst of water rapids, minor tide pools, the largest orange iguanas known to man, we left no one behind on this expedition. Even the "G-man" was saved. Ah yes, the "G-man" is fast becoming the student explorer of legend.
Dr. A got the runs and I just have bad gas, but other than that we continue to be excited. Up next: Mayan ruins and "shopping" in San Ignacio.
Not to be outdone, I fed a live jaguar named Junior, which incidentally means in Mayan: the one who kills its prey in one bound. After the aromatic zoo, we came back to base to eat a hearty lunch.
Our next trip was to canoe the Sibun River. And yes, some of our members fell in and we did have to rescue them. Awesome! In the midst of water rapids, minor tide pools, the largest orange iguanas known to man, we left no one behind on this expedition. Even the "G-man" was saved. Ah yes, the "G-man" is fast becoming the student explorer of legend.
Dr. A got the runs and I just have bad gas, but other than that we continue to be excited. Up next: Mayan ruins and "shopping" in San Ignacio.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Belize Proem: imprints from a Cruzan Medievalist
I woke up today too early to recount. Why? I was getting ready to go to Belize, my first Third World Country visit. I am traveling with my beautiful fiancee, Dr. A, and 15 students from Eckerd College.
The trip is under the academese rhetoric of "service learning," and I am sure this is indeed the case, but we are really going there for shock value. If an educated American falls in the Belizean rain forest, do the local flora and fauna hear it? Yeah,...I know.
So anyway, what is a medievalist doing in Belize to begin with? Well, I speak Spanish and Creole so my translating skill set should come in handy. By wait! Was it not formerly British Honduras? And then again, is not the official language English, one dialect removed from a king's English?
Yep! So again, why is a medievalist in Belize? Hmmm...this is indeed a question that will be addressed in a more everyday, informal manner. What?! A diary? A journal? Well, maybe more of what Whitman considered his leaves of grass. Perhaps, these ramblings, like Dr. Johnson's narrative attempts, can be considered...uhm...imprints.
So hang in there! I will hold nothing back, and I do mean nothing.
The trip is under the academese rhetoric of "service learning," and I am sure this is indeed the case, but we are really going there for shock value. If an educated American falls in the Belizean rain forest, do the local flora and fauna hear it? Yeah,...I know.
So anyway, what is a medievalist doing in Belize to begin with? Well, I speak Spanish and Creole so my translating skill set should come in handy. By wait! Was it not formerly British Honduras? And then again, is not the official language English, one dialect removed from a king's English?
Yep! So again, why is a medievalist in Belize? Hmmm...this is indeed a question that will be addressed in a more everyday, informal manner. What?! A diary? A journal? Well, maybe more of what Whitman considered his leaves of grass. Perhaps, these ramblings, like Dr. Johnson's narrative attempts, can be considered...uhm...imprints.
So hang in there! I will hold nothing back, and I do mean nothing.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
My President's recent 'Achievement'
How do you measure greatness exactly? And, to further complicate my inquest--how does one receive it while still very much ALIVE?
President Barack Hussein Obama, our country's 44th President of the United States received, and added to his ever-increasing list of achievements, a Nobel Peace Prize for 2009.
My first thoughts were: that's great, but for what exactly? is he not STILL in office, STILL in the role of doing?
I quickly altered my thoughts to paranoia: this is a set up; what was meant as promotion from the Swiss billing may backfire faster than Gorbachev's iron curtain renting.
Still, you have to be impressed that such a man while still in office received the award based on pure merit pre-inauguration. I had suspected such a thing could happen via his literary output; and, at best, I expected the MacArthur foundation to reward him, but a Nobel Peace Prize exceeds my (and many other Americans') expectations.
If we say he earned the award via his oratory aspirations to reach across the political table and break bread with mankind, then it is fitting. If we say, it is because of his ascendancy to the 44th Executive Branch of our US Government, then it is not.
In his own words then: "This award is not simply about my administration...[it] 'must be shared' with everyone who strives for 'justice and dignity'."
Now, we sit back and listen as all the nay-sayers and dejected wanna be should have been me's gripe about who won. Jealous? Perhaps...
Well said, and as always well achieved Mr. president.
President Barack Hussein Obama, our country's 44th President of the United States received, and added to his ever-increasing list of achievements, a Nobel Peace Prize for 2009.
My first thoughts were: that's great, but for what exactly? is he not STILL in office, STILL in the role of doing?
I quickly altered my thoughts to paranoia: this is a set up; what was meant as promotion from the Swiss billing may backfire faster than Gorbachev's iron curtain renting.
Still, you have to be impressed that such a man while still in office received the award based on pure merit pre-inauguration. I had suspected such a thing could happen via his literary output; and, at best, I expected the MacArthur foundation to reward him, but a Nobel Peace Prize exceeds my (and many other Americans') expectations.
If we say he earned the award via his oratory aspirations to reach across the political table and break bread with mankind, then it is fitting. If we say, it is because of his ascendancy to the 44th Executive Branch of our US Government, then it is not.
In his own words then: "This award is not simply about my administration...[it] 'must be shared' with everyone who strives for 'justice and dignity'."
Now, we sit back and listen as all the nay-sayers and dejected wanna be should have been me's gripe about who won. Jealous? Perhaps...
Well said, and as always well achieved Mr. president.
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