Thursday, September 25, 2003
Todd Walker saved my life the other night. There I was with one foot dangling off the side of the Lenny Zakim bridge (the Tobin was already full) for the 13th time this season when Mr. Walker rifled a ball into the seats tying the game and saving the lives of a few thousand Red Sox fans. David Ortiz’s game-winning homer in the extra frames may have saved us for good.
Being a Red Sox fan isn’t easy, never has been. I’m not kidding when I say I was ready to throw in the proverbial towel many times this year, as a Sox fan you expect the team to fail. You expect them to raise our hopes every spring and then self-destruct faster than Marisa Tomei’s career after My Cousin Vinny by mid-August. Not only do we expect it to happen, but also it’s almost as if we enjoy it. The thing is, this hasn’t happened this year and I’m not really sure how to act. As a collective whole, we take pride in being a frustrated, beleaguered gaggle of sad sacks. What are we going to do if they actually win?
I know its superstitious to talk about the playoffs when the Sox haven’t sealed the deal just yet, but throw a little salt over your shoulder and get excited because its happening. I know what you’re thinking, this is a little too optimistic for a Red Sox fan, but really what’s not to like. Bullpen woes aside, I wouldn’t want to touch the Sox starting rotation in the playoffs and they hitter knock the crap out of the ball. This team has eight guys with more than 80 RBIs, EIGHT. I was too young to remember the ’67 team and was only a year old in ’75, but I cut my teeth in ’78, earned my Sox badge of consternation in ’86 and was a full-fledged veteran by the ’99 division series. I’ve seen some good Sox teams; teams I thought had a chance, but my rearing always had me waiting for them to lose. In that sense I was never disappointed. But this year just feels different. Plus, the curse has to end sometime, according to the voice of Ben Affleck anyway.
This team has chemistry, it has gumption, it has resolve and most importantly, it has personalities. Guys like David Ortiz and Kevin Millar have brought life and leadership to this team, the key ingredient they have been missing in recent years. They’ve been able to not only deliver on the field but in the clubhouse. I only know what I’ve heard and read, but even the biggest yearly Pedro and Manny distractions seem to have been nothing more than minor blips on the radar. This team seems to believe in each other and never quits, no matter how dire things seem to be. The come-from-behind win the other night when they were down to their last strike is the epitome of this. They have that championship make-up.
So, I’m going against everything my Red Sox history has taught me and am jumping on the believer bandwagon. Something about this team just feels right; I really don’t know how else to describe it. Perhaps I’m still drunk off the Patriots Super Bowl win two years ago, but dare I say, I think this may be the year? Only time will tell and if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to sacrifice my Clemens rookie card to the baseball gods. Go Sox!
Being a Red Sox fan isn’t easy, never has been. I’m not kidding when I say I was ready to throw in the proverbial towel many times this year, as a Sox fan you expect the team to fail. You expect them to raise our hopes every spring and then self-destruct faster than Marisa Tomei’s career after My Cousin Vinny by mid-August. Not only do we expect it to happen, but also it’s almost as if we enjoy it. The thing is, this hasn’t happened this year and I’m not really sure how to act. As a collective whole, we take pride in being a frustrated, beleaguered gaggle of sad sacks. What are we going to do if they actually win?
I know its superstitious to talk about the playoffs when the Sox haven’t sealed the deal just yet, but throw a little salt over your shoulder and get excited because its happening. I know what you’re thinking, this is a little too optimistic for a Red Sox fan, but really what’s not to like. Bullpen woes aside, I wouldn’t want to touch the Sox starting rotation in the playoffs and they hitter knock the crap out of the ball. This team has eight guys with more than 80 RBIs, EIGHT. I was too young to remember the ’67 team and was only a year old in ’75, but I cut my teeth in ’78, earned my Sox badge of consternation in ’86 and was a full-fledged veteran by the ’99 division series. I’ve seen some good Sox teams; teams I thought had a chance, but my rearing always had me waiting for them to lose. In that sense I was never disappointed. But this year just feels different. Plus, the curse has to end sometime, according to the voice of Ben Affleck anyway.
This team has chemistry, it has gumption, it has resolve and most importantly, it has personalities. Guys like David Ortiz and Kevin Millar have brought life and leadership to this team, the key ingredient they have been missing in recent years. They’ve been able to not only deliver on the field but in the clubhouse. I only know what I’ve heard and read, but even the biggest yearly Pedro and Manny distractions seem to have been nothing more than minor blips on the radar. This team seems to believe in each other and never quits, no matter how dire things seem to be. The come-from-behind win the other night when they were down to their last strike is the epitome of this. They have that championship make-up.
So, I’m going against everything my Red Sox history has taught me and am jumping on the believer bandwagon. Something about this team just feels right; I really don’t know how else to describe it. Perhaps I’m still drunk off the Patriots Super Bowl win two years ago, but dare I say, I think this may be the year? Only time will tell and if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to sacrifice my Clemens rookie card to the baseball gods. Go Sox!
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
There has to come a point where you stop looking up to musicians and writers as being on a higher plane then you. Surely, a time must come in life where you stop floating on the notes of musician as heavenly or dwell on the deeper prose of a writer. A time must come when your idolizing of these people ceases and their crafts become more of a mentor for your own inspiration. It’s a time that needs to find me soon.
Music and writing have been two of the most consistent and cherished pieces in my life. Music hooked me from the very first Beatles song my Dad ever played and writing has hooked me ever since One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. I’ve run the gamut of musical genres since, from Def Leppard to Led Zeppelin to Pearl Jam to Phish while my favorite writers run from Jack London to Jack Kerouac to Dave Barry to Tom Robbins. They have all inspired me and I have aspired to be them ever since I can remember.
Having idols is a natural part of the human condition. This was especially true for music with me. I used to stage my own rock concerts in my room as a kid with a hockey stick for a microphone and a tennis racket for a guitar; I’d wow thousands of people every night. I got serious enough in junior high to actually purchase a bass guitar. Determined to make it as a rock star, I took lessons and tried to learn songs only to find I suffered from the biggest obstacle a would-be musician could experience, I was tone-deaf. Still, it didn’t kill my dreams.
Through my latter high school years and college I was caught up in the grunge movement and obsessed with Pearl Jam. At one point I may have even thought I was Eddie Vedder. I wrote a lot of lyrics back then in the hopes I could write songs with a lot of my musicians friends when I encountered the dream-killing reality that I could not sing. Still, it didn’t stop me from writing, lyrics or otherwise.
To this day, I aspire to have my own syndicated column. Like any aspiring writer, I write. I’ve done a few stints on the journalism circuit both working for a paper and freelancing. But, the student loans came due and the lure of corporate America and its big bucks were a necessity I couldn’t pass up. After five-plus years in the public relations realm, corporate America had enough of me and decided to restructure me. I was laid-off.
For two months now I have contemplated what my future holds. I have decided I want no part of my former career and have set about trying to figure out what I want to do. And that is writing a column. For the last year, I have been writing intermittent columns and posting them on my own web site for the world to read, in theory anyway as there are perhaps a dozen people who know my web page exists. I have also set about attempting to gather information from actual paid columnists in hope of finding a way to get my proverbial foot in the door. It has been helpful, but I still sit on the outside looking in.
The rock star dream may long be dead, but music as continued to be an outlet for me. I was at a show recently chatting with a friend of mine who had just performed when I looked out at the crowd and felt old. The show that night was 18-plus and most of the kids in attendance were at least 10 years younger than me. I was actually feeling a bit washed-up, as if these kids were looking at me and wondering who this old guy was, when a notion that has always been bouncing around my gray matter took hold. At some point you have to go from idolizing the people on stage to the person that is creating the memories for these folks. In short, I realized I need to get off my ass and make things happens. And for me, that means to write and write some more. I need to be the creator versus the one who idolizes. It’s time to reach for the higher plane.
Music and writing have been two of the most consistent and cherished pieces in my life. Music hooked me from the very first Beatles song my Dad ever played and writing has hooked me ever since One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. I’ve run the gamut of musical genres since, from Def Leppard to Led Zeppelin to Pearl Jam to Phish while my favorite writers run from Jack London to Jack Kerouac to Dave Barry to Tom Robbins. They have all inspired me and I have aspired to be them ever since I can remember.
Having idols is a natural part of the human condition. This was especially true for music with me. I used to stage my own rock concerts in my room as a kid with a hockey stick for a microphone and a tennis racket for a guitar; I’d wow thousands of people every night. I got serious enough in junior high to actually purchase a bass guitar. Determined to make it as a rock star, I took lessons and tried to learn songs only to find I suffered from the biggest obstacle a would-be musician could experience, I was tone-deaf. Still, it didn’t kill my dreams.
Through my latter high school years and college I was caught up in the grunge movement and obsessed with Pearl Jam. At one point I may have even thought I was Eddie Vedder. I wrote a lot of lyrics back then in the hopes I could write songs with a lot of my musicians friends when I encountered the dream-killing reality that I could not sing. Still, it didn’t stop me from writing, lyrics or otherwise.
To this day, I aspire to have my own syndicated column. Like any aspiring writer, I write. I’ve done a few stints on the journalism circuit both working for a paper and freelancing. But, the student loans came due and the lure of corporate America and its big bucks were a necessity I couldn’t pass up. After five-plus years in the public relations realm, corporate America had enough of me and decided to restructure me. I was laid-off.
For two months now I have contemplated what my future holds. I have decided I want no part of my former career and have set about trying to figure out what I want to do. And that is writing a column. For the last year, I have been writing intermittent columns and posting them on my own web site for the world to read, in theory anyway as there are perhaps a dozen people who know my web page exists. I have also set about attempting to gather information from actual paid columnists in hope of finding a way to get my proverbial foot in the door. It has been helpful, but I still sit on the outside looking in.
The rock star dream may long be dead, but music as continued to be an outlet for me. I was at a show recently chatting with a friend of mine who had just performed when I looked out at the crowd and felt old. The show that night was 18-plus and most of the kids in attendance were at least 10 years younger than me. I was actually feeling a bit washed-up, as if these kids were looking at me and wondering who this old guy was, when a notion that has always been bouncing around my gray matter took hold. At some point you have to go from idolizing the people on stage to the person that is creating the memories for these folks. In short, I realized I need to get off my ass and make things happens. And for me, that means to write and write some more. I need to be the creator versus the one who idolizes. It’s time to reach for the higher plane.
Thursday, September 18, 2003
When I was recently part of an ever-popular restructuring plague decimating the job market these days, I tried to look at in a positive light. I wasn’t particularly happy with my job situation at the time and had already begun the process of seeking another job. I figured this was not only an opportunity to get away from the rat-race and office politics but also a chance to find something I truly enjoyed doing. From my initial foray into the market, I knew right away I was going to be up for a serious challenge and competition with the myriad of other job seekers in the open market. What I didn’t realize was that finding the proper job, let alone getting someone to interview would be easier than finding my wife.
I began seeing a career counselor, which my former employer was nice enough to provide, shortly after being laid-off this August. He began to school me in the finer nuances of how to conduct a proper job search; the most important key being networking. I don’t know about you, but the idea of networking just feels a little seedy, especially the informational interview. I understand how valuable it can be to speak with someone in an industry you aspire to work. However, the notion of contacting someone under the guise of seeking information for your career search amuses me. Obviously I want job and they know it. It’s really nothing more than a big game.
Networking groups and meetings are even more amusing to me. It’s really kind of like dating when you think about it; trying to establish connections in a roomful of strangers with the hope of landing a date that could potentially lead to a long-term commitment. Except in this case, we’re talking jobs, not sex. But it still takes the right amount of schmoozing, charm, BS and bravado right? The same holds true for want ads.
Want ads are akin to responding to personal ads. You have to have to tread that fine line of honesty while trying to separate yourself from the rest of the masses. “Single marketing professional with a flare for the creative and savvy communication skills seeks like-mined advertising agency who enjoys casual dress, humor and the occasional happy hour romp.” You send in you resume and let the games begin as you agonize over when to call to seem interested without coming on too strong.
If you are lucky enough to get a date, the fun really begins. You need to figure out what to wear, analyze your past interviews and do your research in hopes of presenting yourself in the right light. Then there is the thank you note and hours spent analyzing the interview and stewing over where you thought you went wrong. And the worry, oh the worry really digs in. “Will I ever find the right job and settle down or will I be reduced to a life of jumping from one career to the next?” Yup, job hunting is just like dating, fortunately I’m married.
I began seeing a career counselor, which my former employer was nice enough to provide, shortly after being laid-off this August. He began to school me in the finer nuances of how to conduct a proper job search; the most important key being networking. I don’t know about you, but the idea of networking just feels a little seedy, especially the informational interview. I understand how valuable it can be to speak with someone in an industry you aspire to work. However, the notion of contacting someone under the guise of seeking information for your career search amuses me. Obviously I want job and they know it. It’s really nothing more than a big game.
Networking groups and meetings are even more amusing to me. It’s really kind of like dating when you think about it; trying to establish connections in a roomful of strangers with the hope of landing a date that could potentially lead to a long-term commitment. Except in this case, we’re talking jobs, not sex. But it still takes the right amount of schmoozing, charm, BS and bravado right? The same holds true for want ads.
Want ads are akin to responding to personal ads. You have to have to tread that fine line of honesty while trying to separate yourself from the rest of the masses. “Single marketing professional with a flare for the creative and savvy communication skills seeks like-mined advertising agency who enjoys casual dress, humor and the occasional happy hour romp.” You send in you resume and let the games begin as you agonize over when to call to seem interested without coming on too strong.
If you are lucky enough to get a date, the fun really begins. You need to figure out what to wear, analyze your past interviews and do your research in hopes of presenting yourself in the right light. Then there is the thank you note and hours spent analyzing the interview and stewing over where you thought you went wrong. And the worry, oh the worry really digs in. “Will I ever find the right job and settle down or will I be reduced to a life of jumping from one career to the next?” Yup, job hunting is just like dating, fortunately I’m married.
