Zombie hunting in a bounce castle of reality

"Be careful of the zombies" yelled the birthday boy to the rest of the party goers, turned zombie hunters. The skinny, goofy looking eight year old leads four other adventurers in the bounce castle and that's how I spent the first hour of my six hour shift at the rec.

"Come on guys," cried out another passionate zombie cowboy. "We have to get those zombies."

"No zombies allowed in the castle," shouted the eldest of the posse of zombie catchers.

As this all took place before my eyes, through the nets of the bouncy castle set up in the field house, I stood there making sure there was no horse play, fighting or actual zombies inside while the boys made gun noises and bounced around in search of imaginary zombies somewhere inside the 12 by 12 inflatable structure.

Minutes later a kid came out with a scraped knee and I sat him down on the bench next to the castle. While looking at the six year old's knee and helping him get back to his search of imaginary dead mutants I told him that in a few seconds he'll be all cleaned up and ready to go back in and then he can continue killing the zombies.

He looked at me, just as any confused six year old might by what he had heard, and said: "There aren't real zombies in there." Then looked over to his Mom, who was standing behind me, "Mom, he thinks there's real zombies in there, but there isn't. They're made up. There are no zombies."

It's funny that in just one week's time I've not had two "run-ins" with zombie related conversations. This one with the bounce house zombie bounty hunters and another on Sunday with the teens at youth group. That conversation was a bit more to my maturity level as we - in grave and well thought out detail - discussed and debated defense measures, survival techniques and everything else zombie.

It's that as I type here now a few things have come to mind. Important issues that I struggle to put into actual words that make sense or even are worthy to share, but none the less intrigue me and will attempt to create coherent points and sound logic.

They come in this order:

1. As the young boy fought imaginary zombies he was quick to point out it was fake; he wasn't in fact fighting actual zombies. He knew the difference about what was real and was in his mind. How often do we forget that about whatever it is in our lives we're pretending? Work, a relationship, potential changes in our lives, etc. And can we tell the difference between the two?

2. The Mayan's believe the world will end on Dec. 21 of this year, the end-date of a 5,125-year-long cycle. If the Mayan's believe the world is to end, how should I feel as a Catholic? Maybe just as importantly, if the Mayan's are right, will zombies be a part of any of the demise of life as we know it? I believe it's an honest question, which leads to question #3...

3. What would be my strategy against zombies? Especially if the world is supposed to end this year and we don't know for sure what will happen?

That zombie fighting little knee scrapper reminds us that in our lives we must force ourselves to disconnect our "wants" and our "hopes" for ourselves from reality and what's actually happening.

Prime example in my life right now, I've waited nearly seven months now for a job. Interview after interview I waited for the perfect gig to present itself and convinced myself it would, but it wasn't until those moments when nothing came across my eye that I realized I had to keep searching, networking, asking friends and praying. Every time I had an interview I convinced myself someone else - much more qualified - would get the job and I took myself out of the game before it even started. Instead of looking at it as if I'm on the level playing field as other candidates and need to go in and "sell" myself to them. And when a job came by that I thought was the perfect job with years of success to follow with it, was it my own thoughts that made it seem ideal or is it because it's what God has called me to do next on my journey?

A close friend of mine thought everything was all hunky-dory with a girl he was recently dating, not listening to everyone else advising him differently. Then one day found out quite the different story was unfolding, and in this particular instance, I mean quite the opposite of what he thought. If it were a baseball game he wasn't in right field, he wasn't even on the same team...

It's those times that we must forget what we want to see happening before us and accept reality. Putting our trust in the plan and letting things unfold as they may. Surrendering ourselves to God and accepting His Will along our journey...Even if it involves zombies, or in a more serious manner, darker days full of a doubt.

As we anticipate an end of the world in December, according to the Mayans and other philosophies/ beliefs, and get caught up in all the hoopla of "End of the World" gimmicks we must think what would the end of the world me like or at least the end of our own life? I'm not smart enough, well informed, nor studious enough in my theology to shed light on this, but all I say is that if Church hymns remind us anything we are to "be watchful and careful" for we don't know when the son of man is coming. We don't know when the end of the world is coming and we read this through scripture. "Therefore, stay awake, for you know neither the day, nor the hour (Matthew 25: 13)." In terms of scripture that depicts a devastating and brutal end I believe fully - with every ounce of faith I have - that it details the end of our life if we live an unmoral, God-less life or even a life where we believe we will live forever, unstoppable and untouchable. Better put from another blog: "If we live as though the finite horizons of this life were the whole of reality, we are fools indeed." (That's all plenty heavy for another post at another time)

Zombies or not, we all seem to live throughout our how horror film that is haunted by life changing decisions or as I call them big kid responsibilities. Doubt, dismay and displeasure with aspects of our lives slowly creep into our sight and follow us creepily along our journey. As if we are in a horror film being chased down by our own zombie. But reality too can haunt us, especially if we can't separate the difference between what we want to see and hope to see, and what is really unfolding in front of us.

With all that being said, I believe full heartily that with my extensive back country survival, my physical abilities to hike and gather in challenging terrain and a collection of friends with diverse background in hunting and hiking to make a zombie survival squad I could survive against zombies; real or imaginary. The sad fact is that upon beginning this entry I wasn't going to go into detail about this in hopes to retain any sense of respect I have from anyone who actually reads this, but now the wheels are turning and I am deep in thought now. Inspired by the creativity of those zombiebusters in the bounce castle I am actually stewing over this one.

Stay tuned...


Until next time...

Why a mustard seed and not a Tic Tac?

There comes a time in everyone's life where you feel as if you're wandering among a dried-out field, saturated with misery and disarray. Dark and cold, the field is so far gone, so lonely, that it seems that nothing can ever grow and blossom into anything worth bearing any fruits.

For some of us, that hypothetical "field" - that cold, lonely, unforgiving stretch of our lives - might be taking on a new chapter of your life; going it alone and navigating it off the cuff, not knowing what's around each corner. For others it may be mourning the loss of a dear friend(s) or family member. While for someone else it may be just losing hope in whatever mountain it is you wait to climb, that path you're afraid to set out on. Right now, for me it is seeing where it is God calls me to be. Which righteous path it is He wants me to journey down. As I anxiously cling on to faith as my life raft this week.

As I went over next week's Gospel with the teens at YM last night, I couldn't help but find the anecdote I've been praying for. The reading comes from our buddy Mark. He shares of a time when Jesus was speaking to a crowd. He told them all that the Kingdom of Heaven is as if a man were to scatter seeds among the land. He doesn't know how, but through night and day, somehow, the seeds grow. First the blade, then the ear, and then the full grain in the ear...then the harvest comes.

Then he said: "It is like a mustard seed that, when it is sown in the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on the earth. But once it is sown, it springs up and becomes the largest of plants and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the sky can dwell in its shade."

Everyone then understood (in the Gospel), but not all of the teens. I was asked what a mustard seed was and why Jesus chose a mustard seed...and like any good YM...I quickly moved on and changed the subject of conversation.

I had the teens put out their hand and imagine a Tic Tac resting in the middle of it. Cut it in half I then said to them. Now you have the exact size of the seed of faith you need to plant. That tiny little seed, when planted, will grow and flourish into something you could never imagine. That little seed of nothingness can grow into something that bears great fruit, moves mountains and provide new life...through time.

The mustard seed is mentioned many times throughout the Gospels, my favorite coming from my main man Matt. He writes: "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you would be able to say to this mountain, 'move from here to there,' and it would move. Nothing would be impossible for you."

It's hard to imagine that such a small seed can grow such fruits, even in a time of such drought. That little seed of faith can move mountains. Yet as we struggle with our day-to-day worries, we often forget that.

For me, as I worry about a thousand-and-one things this week I focus on that imaginary Tic Tac that I had each teen place in their hand. That tiny little seed that we must focus on replanting in the fields of fear and trepidation in our hearts. Then we will stand by, watch it grow and know that with just a the tiniest of faith we can look at that mountain that stands before us in our lives and say "move" and it will move. Nothing will be impossible.

That as you, in your life today, worry about wealth, fret about future endeavors, struggle with life's temptations or mourn the loss of someone close to you. There is that tiny seed of faith that needs planted in your life, in your heart. A seed no larger than half a Tic Tac. Once that small seed is planted, nothing will ever keep you from moving mountains; even if you're lost among the fields of nothingness, or lost in the shadow of death. Like Thomas Merton wrote: "I will not fear, for You are ever with me and You will never leave me to face my problems alone."

Amen.


Until next time...

A sea of calm in a storm of chaos

For anyone who has ever attempted white water rafting you know that the #1 thing to remember while entering the rapids is that you don't stop paddling. I've heard the guides constantly remind us that when you get scared or the rapids seem too strong, paddle harder and listen to the commands. If you stop paddling during the rush of the rapids a whole slue of things could happen. People can fall over, the boat can flip, you can run aground, etc. Don't stop paddling.

I remember taking teens from my youth group rafting - we did it each summer - and the guide had to continually yell at us every time to keep paddling. Each time we tackled a class 4 or 5 he would scream "don't stop paddling," "keep going," "we're almost through." But every time another raft from our flotilla would be overturned and teenage girls would be screaming because there hair was wet or something slippery brushed their leg. And every time we would get through and into an eddy the guides would remind us how important it was to keep paddling. Although we wanted to stop out of fear, that's when we needed to paddle harder to avoid hazards and getting stuck in the hydraulics.

If there’s one thing that I’ve learned it’s that life is a lot like white water rafting. Your trip begins nice and smooth as you start at the put-in and follow the leisurely paced current, just how life is most of the time and you eventually find rapids that sneak up just ahead or around the next turn. And when you seem to approach the intense rapids of life, whether it’s work, relationships or just the stress of things going on that are out of your control, and you begin to get caught up in the crushing water that’s spraying overhead. When you feel the crunch of the rocks below and the violent current, that's when out of instinct you want to stop paddling and hold on. The moment you want to cease your paddling out of fear. The moment when your entire body is struck with fear, frozen by the intense realization that you're no longer in control. That instant when your raft bounces from rock to rock like a pinball in a machine. It is then that you need to paddle the most. It doesn’t matter if you’re scared or worried; because like life, the river doesn’t cater to you. It owes you nothing. It's unforgiving. It's relentless. So is life. You just have to bite your lip and paddle, paddle out of instinct. Paddle for survival. You paddle for yourself. That’s how you’ll survive all of what the river can throw at you, and that’s how you’ll survive the rapids that lay ahead in life.

Regardless of where you find yourself in your journey. Whether you're sitting pretty with a nice McMansion and a power suit, power steering-type job or you're struggling to break into a career. Whether you're barely making ends meet or you've got everything you want. No matter where you are you'll find yourself constantly going in and out of relentless rocky rapids of fear, frustration and chaos. It is then when everything sucks and it seems you've lost control that you must keep paddling. Forcing yourself to keep pushing forward. Pushing you to go on, paddle faster. Just like any river, and in our lives, no matter how rough the rapids, a welcome eddy calmly awaits to slowly carry you along until that next round of rapids - that sits down river, just around that corner that you're not ready for - waits to take you on again. Head on.

But if you paddled on once, you can do it again. Today you become that sea of calm amongst the storm of chaos that is your life.


Until next time...

Off ramp ramblings from a little black bird

Just yesterday I sat at a red light on the off ramp of the highway and witnessed such a frustrating and glorious act that explains the last seven months of my life to the fullest. As I sat and stared off into the clear blue sky ahead of me I saw this small bird soaring through the sky. He flapped his wings and cut through the air so delicately. His wings sliced through the strong afternoon breeze cleanly and without any resistance, just like a knife cutting through a freshly baked loaf of bread. It was such a beautiful site to see as he attempted to make his way.

The only downside, and also the frustrating part for him, was that he was attempting to cut through the brash winds that prevented him from going anywhere. For anyone who has sat at the off ramp of 71 South at Polaris you know that you're most likely going to sit their for about three minutes. For the entire time that I sat there I saw this poor guy, this little black bird in the far off sky, flap and flap his wings harder and harder, but not get anywhere. I could feel his pain as he tried his best to move on but got nothing. He tried his darnedest only to be slapped in the face by the brisk sting of the coming evening chill. As the light changed to green and I set my foot upon the gas I began to speed up through the intersection just as the wind died down and my frustrated feathery friend was freed from the shackles of mother nature and flew away into the bright afternoon sky like John Wayne riding off into a sunset after a gun fight and winning the heart of a beautiful damsel in distress.

It made me think that through the past several months I too have tried my hardest to move on with my life. I gave it my all to move forward, only to be kept in the same spot for one reason or another. A rejection email for a job, losing out to a more seasoned and experienced candidate in the final round of interviews or being restrained by the reality of a stagnant economy and decreasing job market. I've flapped my wings faster and faster, day after day, in hopes to fly the coop and begin my ongoing journey of adulthood, only to be held back by the hurricane force winds of neglect and receding realities. Like that bird, I gave it my all and got nowhere.

But eventually there comes a time - when you least expect it and as you're trying your hardest - that the wind dies down, the skies open up, the sun begins to shine brighter, and you break loose of the realistic restraints of the "world" you're living in. You begin to make way towards those greener pastures, the righteous path and that new mountain that stands before you. You attack it head on and with the fiery passion of a thousand suns.

Just like the bird that I saw on such a majestic and trying afternoon I challenge you to continue fighting against those unexpected forces that are holding you back. Don't give up, never surrender, just keep going. Eventually you'll break free and begin your way to the promise land, whatever that may be for you. Accept the challenge and bask in the glory of the day when you are set free, enjoying the success of not giving up and becoming free of what's been holding you back.

Until next time...

Talking buses named Buster are scary...so is not understanding life

This past weekend I had the opportunity to be apart of a high school youth retreat with a great group of teens. Smacked dab in the middle of Saturday was a few hours of work for me at a community Family event. While I was there I noticed a friendly, talking, cartoonie-looking school bus named Buster reach out to kids about bus safety and such. It was one of those remote controlled deals where someone followed behind, directing it where to go and talking into a microphone that made the bus speak in a unisex, high pitched Darth Vader-esque voice. The thing reached out to kids, in a friendly, engaging way, but did neither. It did the opposite. It freaked them out.

Buster the talking bus scared the crap out of the kids. I watched Buster the entire length of the event. Kids would cry, grab a hold of their Moms. Some would pull a Matrix style maneuver to avoid being seen. One little lad even pulled out a gymnastics number of two cartwheels into a perfectly executed somersault, tucked into a triple deek just to get away from the thing.

It made me think. How often do we attempt to do something that is good in nature, involves nothing but the best intentions, but only to not understand what's going on, to grow scared and afraid or even doubt what is ahead of us, regardless of how entertaining, amusing or horrifying it may be. That one thing that makes the future freak us out.

At the retreat you could tell who was not wanting to be there the moment they hopped off the bus. Like most, you can pick out the teens who have come shut off, close minded and afraid to open up their hearts. Those who are unwilling to accept the Truths or let in the Lord. For me, I had two of those types at my table. Two freshmen boys. Like the little kids, afraid to open up or even talk to Buster, these two teens were hesitant to open up to the retreat, let alone to the thought of the Lord in their lives. They were not wanting (at first) to "buy into" what we were selling.

Like the attempts of using a talking robotic school bus to spread the word of school bus safety we use gimmicks, crazy icebreakers, songs with hand motions and Jesus freak jokes to ignite a flame of interest in the hearts and minds of the teens about a Christ focused life. Outside of ministry we use self-help books, trained professionals, alcohol and other stimulates to help us understand our life and what lays ahead.

Just before lights out on the final night of the retreat I had a teen approach me about problems in his life, worries and hopes for his future, and his fears of growing up. He opened up and it was great. Especially after sitting next to each other during Adoration and helping him prepare for Reconciliation answering his questions and praying with him. A one time closed off guy, now opened up to his faith and wanted to go deeper. There was no cartoon-looking, robotic Jesus that came up to him and spread His news, there was no marketing campaign or big hoopla, only a combination of an open mind and heart, willingness to let the Lord in and a bit of inspiration from a spiritual environment. Yet, so often we as adults fail to understand that we don't need to understand, but open up our hearts and minds to the challenges and frustrations that present themselves. Trust in the Lord, and His plan.

When I woke the guys up the second morning, after only about four or five hours of sleep all weekend, the slow bodies of teens rose from their beds like youthful zombies busting through the earthly layers of pillows and blankets arising from their comfortable graves of nocturnal rejuvenation. Some faster than others. I called out to them "I don't understand how you can stay up so late and get up so early and still have as much energy as you do." Then one of the guys shot back without hesitation in a Buddha like demeanor: "We're teens...you're not supposed to understand."

How fitting is that? As we worry about finding our purpose in life, spend countless hours seeking out the next step along the path we follow on this journey, he strive to "understand." We mask our heavy hitting issues with marketing style lessons of hope and strength, we mask the truths behind what we think is "right" and "should be happening." When all we really must understand is that "we're not supposed to understand." That's the beauty of life. We live. We learn. We love. Imagine how dull and anticlimactic our lives would be if everything we wanted either magically happened or didn't with a quick snap of our fingers or tap of a magic wand.

The beauty of life, is that whether we're at the cusp of something greater, or trapped deep down in the depths of depression, what we must truly understand is that we're not supposed to understand. We're supposed to live our lives with purpose, through love of self and others. Striving for our mountaintops and serving those we come across. It is then that we will truly understand...and if not we'll constantly be running from something much more scary than a talking school bus named Buster.

Life at the free throw line

Imagine that you're standing at the free throw line about to take your one and only free throw to win the game. So much is riding on this shot. The game. The season. Your career. Your image. Everything rides on this one shot. A free throw. The distance between you and the rim is about thirteen feet. No one is standing in your way. No one can block your shot. It's just you, the ball and the rim. The lights dim on just you and the paint. The crowd silences. Sweat drips down your forehead. The ref passes you the ball. Seconds later it lands in your hands. You bounce it once. A second time. You close your eyes. Breath in slowly. Exhale slower. You open your eyes. Focus on the backboard. You bend your knees and dip with the force shooting you and your arms up towards the hoop. You release...

At this moment you have three outcomes:

1. You can miss. An airball, brick it off the glass or rim, it could bounce in and out teasing you, it can roll along the rim taunting you as you wish, as you pray that it goes in. You miss the shot.
2. It can go from backboard to the front of the rim, bounce over towards the back portion of the rim, travel westward to the left side and moments later fall in like a pinball hitting every possible obstacle in it's way.
3. Swish. Nothing. But. Net.

...as the ball leaves your hands it soars through the air. You hold your breath. Everyone around you hangs on tightly to whatever they can. You close your eyes and pray. It slowly makes its way, cutting through the thin air as it makes its approach. Time stands still. Your nerves grow in uneasiness, your muscles tighten, your heart pounds, baboom...babooom.....baboooom. Everyone watching holds their breath. What goes through your mind? How do you prepare for what's about to come? How did you get to this point? Where did it begin?

The free throw is one of the easiest and most challenging things in the game of basketball, much like a penalty kick in soccer (a sport I'm more passionate about and can tolerate). Although very simple and with no one in your face a free throw can ruin your career or at least be your Achilles heal, just ask Shaq. It's so easy, like you should just be able to reach forward and just set it in the net, but still so many players struggle.

I was shooting around at the rec and decided to try my best at nailing as many free throws as I could out of ten shots. Usually, I make about seven or eight, which I'm alright with since I stopped playing basketball in the sixth grade. When I tried this week it was like I couldn't even hit water if I fell out of a boat. I made one out of my first six or seven shots. It was so bad that I missed all the way up to my tenth shot and convinced myself that I can't quit with a miss.

A bit frustrated by the outcome of this silly personal contest, I grew determined to make another free throw, I was on a conquest now. I set my eyes on the basket, took a deep breath, bounced the ball once and a second time, bent my knees and threw my arms up and released my shot. It soared to the basket and the next thing I heard as the sweet sound of the ball hitting nothing the net and coming down to the floor. It was exhilarating. On the eleventh shot I made it. On the eleventh shot I did what I couldn't do on my first nine out of ten tries.

I went one for ten, which in baseball isn't even good, but it took my eleventh shot to succeed again. It made me think how challenging something so easy can be. Furthermore, how frustrated I got when I couldn't succeed at something so damn easy. It made me think how it relates to my life right now. I've applied and applied for jobs, just as many of you have or are doing, but never seem to hear back; or maybe you're a businessman and you're coming up short deal after deal; or you're asking out cute girl/guy after cute girl/guy, but always getting a "no." We all have our own story.

We can go 0-2, 0-5 or 0-10 and either way it still sucks, but if we lived our lives where we just gave up because things weren't going our way or because our cards weren't stacked in our favor we would never succeed. We would never get anywhere. We would never live. I'd rather live a life where I failed but lived, than live a life where I failed to live.

An older gentleman who comes into the rec always tries to fill me with motivation and inspiration as he asks about my life and job search. We've known each other for years, since my days in high school. He would come to football games and would hear my name called over the PA system when I'd come into the game to punt or kick a field goal. So one day, way back when, he became a friend of mine while I first worked at the rec.

One day recently, he could tell I was down and out about my job search and shared a story with me of an old employee he was interviewing. He worked in the insurance industry and needed reps to go to peoples houses and meet to discuss insurance plans. He had interviewed many candidates before this guy and always came up short finding a motivated, determined person. He had one question he always asked in interviews, and never got the answer he was looking for. If you went to ten houses and went 0-10 on getting a new client, what would you do, he would ask.

The man took a moment to think. Then he looked him in the eye and said I'd go to the eleventh house.

Life is all about what will happen next. Every miss. Every strike out. Every email declining you of a job. They all just bring you one more closer to what you're supposed to get. Just like my free throws, I could have stopped at ten, but I knew that I would eventually get one. Sometimes we blind ourselves of the reality of what's happening. I'll be the first to admit it. When the ball is in our court we might brick it, it might even bounce all over the place and tease you, but end up falling short...or you can bank that shot. At least you tried.

So often we get so upset, distraught and depressed that nothing is going our way, but if we stay the course, if we open our eyes and we keep moving forward we will get there. We will make that free throw, we will win that girl/ guy's heart, we will land that job. Even if you're batting 0-10, there's always that eleventh.

Until next time...

Ohio might be for lovers, but Cleveland is for heartbreak, but there's always next year

It's a sad, but true fact that the great city of Cleveland is lacking what it once had. The swagger. The respect. The wins. You get the point. Years have gone by since a championship banner was raised in Cleveland. The years of the Cardiac Kids are well behind the newly formed losing traditions of the Browns since returning to the NFL. The Indians of the 90s of Nagy, Alomar, Baerga, Thome, Belle and Vizquel and their World Series misfortunes are only but a dream when watching the tribe today. The Cavs of Price, Daurgherty, Ehlo and Ferry have been overshadowed by The Decision and the "Chosen One" leaving his home...Cleveland...for the record I never chose him as the one, did you?

A city that was full of promise, pride and quality sports is now overrun with hard times, crime and unfortunate turns in the economy. Corrupt politicians have led the city down the wrong path for the past few decades, with little desire for change from the citizens, except for more of the same. You know it's bad in Cleveland that when Dimora and is rag tag team of about 25 merry corrupt men were taken from public office and thrown into prison and no one outside the Cleveland covered it. A recent Men's Health article gave Cleveland an F for the best places for single men to live in the country and Men's Fitness Magazine gave Cleveland another failing grade for fattest cities for men.

Cleveland has become (unfortunately) a joke among the great thriving metropolises, a shame from what it once was in the days of Rockefeller and Carnegie. In the words of Rodney Dangerfield we "can't get no respect." The state up north, the one that looks like a mitten and is often referred to as the Armpit of America has given up the top spot of worst city in the country, so that Cleveland could be #1 in something. If that's true that Michigan is the Armpit of America, then most people (outside of Cleveland) must make us out to be the flabby arm skin that hangs below it.

LeBron embarrassed us on national television and we were made out to be evil fans and unappreciative. Now we actually have something that we didn't have with LBJ and that's called a team. A new concept for the Cavs. Yet, it's been two seasons and not once as he been knocked down while driving to the hole, given a "love tap" or even a hard foul just to let him know how we feel. It's surprising that a team that he nationally called out and said he could never win with wouldn't have hard feelings. Hmmmm.

James Harrison has knocked out Colt McCoy two seasons in a row and multiple other Browns, but never once did a linemen or receiver knock him on his tuckus or wrestled him to the ground after the whistle. Sure last season we knocked out Big Ben, the guy who with millions of dollars and a few Super Bowl rings still can't get a girl without the help of liquor and a public restroom. Not once was he given a bit of a push in retaliation for how Harrison cheaply abused Colt and Cribbs.

This past weekend Choo was hit for the second time by a pitcher who beamed him last season, sending him to the bench for a major part of the season. The benches cleared. Later in the game, the Cleveland pitcher hits a batter. Benches cleared again. The best part is that in the midst of both bench clearings was Jack Hannahan. He wasn't involved directly with either altercation, but he stood up for his team. Guided by his pride for team and town he defended what he is...a Cleveland Indian.

I don't know who he is aside from on the ball field. I don't know if he's a good person off the field. I don't care. Finally we have someone in a sports uniform of Cleveland who will go to bat for his town in more than one way. He has pride for town and team, and for that I salute you...I might actually go to games now just because of that.

The city is evolving. It's becoming alive. It's a city for any foodie. The Rock Hall is bringing huge events. The aquarium has opened. The flats are being built back to life. Construction, expansion and development are seen all over. Movies are being filmed here. We have community festivals on the bottom portion of abandoned historical bridges. The casino is supposed to open sometime in May. Good days are drawing near. Neighborhoods are becoming communities again; working together to keep crime away and to draw up a sense of unity. Hospitals are popping up like money making dandelions in your front yard, some of them ranked amongst the best in the country. Heck, Cleveland's even made the trusty old grilled cheese sandwich into a trendy staple of deliciousness, three hour waits and a symbol of social elitism. Although not statistically proven Cleveland has the most attractive female news anchors (at least Fox 8's morning show does). I wake up excited to watch the news. Kristi Capel you're amazing! For our sports there really is next year. Two first rounders for the Cavs and two for the Brownies. Can't forget Great Lakes Brewery...I rest my case.

The "mistake by the lake" will rise again, showing that the real mistake was anyone who doubted it in the first place. Like any good underdog story it's the unsuspected hero who has the last laugh and that day is nearing.

Thank you Jack Hannahan for reminding me why I'm proud to be a Clevelander. Although I hope to take my talents to South Beach...of the Scioto in Columbus, you've instilled into me my passion for The New American City. Your testament of pride and passion has made me want to be a fiery ambassador for the city on the North coast just as you had in Kansas City.

To you sir, and to the city I know so well, I make a toast to you as I raise my Conway's in one hand a Slyman's corned beef sandwich in the other, and say with pride, as we have many times before: Can't wait for next year or the year after that.

Disclaimer: I don't condone fighting, nor do I like cheap shots or bad sports, but there's a difference between cheap shots and having pride for your team. Go Browns...please don't draft a quarterback in the first or second round, we need play makers. Kristi Capel, if you were to ever read this, I know you're married, only if you would've met me first, just saying.

Until next time...