Ugh.

One of my most favorable memories when I was growing up was when the carnival came to town. Back then tickets were a dime, and I can't say for sure but I suspect the rides probably were not as well inspected as they are today. I am assuming they are now checked regularly.

The rides ranged from the basic standards---Ferris Wheel, swings, and merry-go-round---my favorites however were the spin rides. I loved them. I remember one time when the "octopus" was at the carnival and it started to rain; plans were for the carnival to leave the next day, and I had one last ticket in my pocket. I went up to the ticket taker, who wanted to take cover, and said, "I want to ride one more time." He was not happy, but I was. I loved that dizzy feeling.

For some reason as you grow older the spin rides become less and less desirable. In fact, if I ride anything that spins or goes in various directions, I feel sick for hours. I am not alone as other people have told me they feel the same way. Now move forward some 40 years and you find the same thing happening in the town I now live in. Carnival comes to town, they sell tickets for now $.50 or .75 or more per ticket (sometimes requiring 2 or 3 tickets to ride) and the kids hop on and have a great time. Funny you don't see many parents going on the spin rides.

There is one ride that I can not fathom how anyone would want to ride. It looks like a big boat. Innocent enough until it starts to move. It goes one way, and then stops and goes the opposite direction; this continues until it is rocking back and forth and then it happens, it goes upside down and does a complete loop. Just writing this blog is making my stomach upset.

One of the things I learned about rides like this when I was a kid was when the ride goes in a complete circle, money and tickets fall out. Yep, we waited below and when they fell, it was a game of "Finder's keepers." We were bad...but we got to go on more rides because of our creativity.

The photo above was taken at the local carnival that comes to town every May. During the day it's all young kids and Mom's and Dad's. At night however it turns into the teenage "hangout." This is one of the rides I remember well when I was growing up, it's a spin ride that goes in circles---it was one we went on with girls because we knew they would slide next to us. When it seems somethings are constantly changing, the local carnival has kept its tradition.

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Friday night lights.

Often times I will ask friends at work “what they did this past weekend?” I often hear how they went out with friends, drinking, and other activities in the city. I have often thought, “how come I sound so boring?” trying to rub off the big “L” off my forehead.

There is something I have thought about over time. When do people who party at night do their chores? I mean does food just show up in their refrigerator? Does the house clean itself? When do they do laundry? Now please keep in mind I don’t think about this often, but I have thought about it when I hear their encounters from the night before.

I remember when I was in college and we had to do our laundry. We often times would wait until Sunday night, but there were not enough washers at times to get it all done. So there would be that one individual or two who would do it on a Friday or Saturday night. When this was the case, and there was a real need to have clean clothes, I would do what a lot of guys do. Turn the underwear inside out. (Hey, it’s almost as good as new at that point.)

The photo above was taken in Chicago last Friday night. My family had tickets to a play but not enough for one of us to attend. I volunteered to do something else. I decided to take some photos. What I liked about this photo was how the guy was just doing what he needed to do…his laundry. He must know by the lack of people in the laundry mat (there were no others) that everyone was out having fun. But like many of us, he had something to do—his laundry for example.

Tonight is Friday and I know the likelihood of my doing laundry is slim to none. As I watch my wife read to our two youngest daughters, I know we would be perceived as very suburban and boring. As far as I’m concerned, I will do my laundry in the morning .

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When I grow up.

There is a commercial that Monster.com ran a few years ago during the Super Bowl. It went something like, “When I grow up I don’t want to reach my potential….” and went on to focus on not living up to your career dreams. It was one of the most popular commercials during that year’s game. It was so good that an agency creative developed a spoof for advertising agency business. The best line from this new commercial was, “When I grow up I want to be a creative director, have all the TV commercials to my self and be washed up when I am 40.” It was a classic that is still on YouTube under “When I grow up I want to be in advertising.” Worth a look.

When I was growing up I wanted to be a professional baseball player. Problem was, and it was a small problem, I was not very good. Sure I could throw and hit the ball, but there were guys (this was before co-ed baseball) who were really good. They had the “he’s a star in the making” reputations, and today can only talk about being on the high school team. They didn’t get a college scholarship, they didn’t play minor league ball, they just walked off the field back to a normal life.

What amazes me are the parents who believe and convince their kids that they have the talent to make the big leagues; when you think about the odds of this happening, I always keep in perspective how strong the competition is who are competing for the 800-900 positions in MLB, I realize the lottery actually looks pretty good.

As much fun as it is to go to a major league park and watch your favorite team play, if you have the chance go to a minor league park and watch the players who are clawing their way up. They try as hard as they can because they know all it takes is one call and they are headed up to the big leagues. Sure most don’t make it out of the minors, but when they do, I can’t imagine the adrenaline rush and nervousness of having reached the bottom rung of your dream. It’s one step (or rung in this case) at a time.

A number of years ago I called on a woman by the name of Barbara Biancolana; one of the nicest people I called on in the business world. Turns out her brother was in the minor leagues and one day got called up to play for the Kansas City Royals. What happens? They make the World Series, he plays a pivotal role in their win, and he lands on the David Letterman show. (He was one of the few guests I have seen who truly held their own with Letterman.)

After the season, Buddy “Alphabet Soup” Biancolana, had had his 15 minutes of fame. It’s that fleeting.

The photo above was taken in Manchester, NH at the Manchester Fisher Cats game. I was sitting in the first row. When you look at the intensity of the pitcher’s face, and the movement on the ball, you now know why I never made it beyond 9^th grade baseball.

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Tiger.

Let’s face it Tiger Woods has had better weeks. But as bad as this week seems to be, I am sure there are more challenges ahead---the golf season will begin in a few months and he will see signs and hear his name in ways he never thought he would hear and see it. We live in a period of time where there is little that is hidden or not discovered by the media.

Thinking there’s no way they will be caught was a lesson Gary Hart (he ran for President in 1984 and was caught with Donna Rice aboard the boat named, “Monkey Business”), Elliot Spitzer, Bill Clinton and many other high profile people have thought---they were wrong. But in the end life does move on, the media circus leaves town and the next big think happens. What Tiger needs now is something huge to happen so he can move out of the spotlight. I think he still has some mending to do with his corporate sponsors, fans, oh and his wife.

The craziest thing about all of this is, I think we honestly thought this was something Tiger Woods would never do. He has a beautiful wife, has made hundreds of millions of dollars by doing what he loves most, and is the world’s best golfer. Why does he need more? Because like all of us, Tiger is human; but we often forget that when we look at athletes and celebrities. These are our idols, the people we place on such a high pedestal that the goal when they are up there is to knock them down and watch them wither around in pain. We then wonder how could they do that to us?

Since I don’t play golf, am not worth hundreds of millions of dollars, however I do have a beautiful wife and family (1 out of 3 ain’t bad) I doubt I am on anyone’s pedestal. Yet you can be sure there's someone out there who will look at me, you or anyone else and just wait for us to fall. It’s part of human nature—the dark side of human nature. Honestly what Tiger did was stupid, but it’s such old news that it’s kind of hard to understand why it becomes such a big deal when it happens. Of course, most mortal human beings are not Tiger Woods, and Tiger Woods is not your average human being. He is being tracked, sought after, and pounced on---in this instance Tiger is being attacked like he does other players on the golf course. Unfortunately there is no 18th hole at this time where he can walk off the course.

The photo above is of a mother tiger and her cub. This was taken a couple of years ago and I can tell you that cub is no longer the cute little playful cat he appears to be---he weighs hundreds of pounds, is sleek and can attack a piece of meat faster than you could ever imagine.

Under no circumstances do I feel what Tiger Woods did was right; but I assure you in 2010, or possibly even before the end of the year, someone of Tiger’s caliber will be in the news with a similar story. Why? Because they never thought they would get caught. If it does happen, and I have my Nikon with me, I will turn and walk away. I really don’t think it’s any of my business.

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Cheerleading.

The other day I was talking to someone who asked me, “Is cheerleading really a sport?” A good question however there’s a better answer. If you have ever been a cheerleader, which as you might guess I have not, you would know it’s more like a hybrid sport. A really hard hybrid sport.

Consider.

You have to be able to lift a human being over your head and make sure they can stand straight up on someone else’s hands or shoulders. We’ll call this human weightlifting. You have to be able to do back flips, cartwheels, and acrobatic moves---we’ll call this gymnastics. (Oh and you have to do this on many different surfaces.) You have to be able to work as a team in coordinating every move that happens when performing----we’ll call this teamwork. If you add it all up maybe it shouldn’t be called “cheerleading” but “weightgymnasteams.”

When I was in college one of my fraternity brothers was a cheerleader. If you are thinking he did it because he wanted to be around really attractive women, you are probably partially right. However he also did it because not only was he a black belt in karate, he loved the excitement of being part of a team. A team that played in front of the same huge crowds where the football, basketball and other sports teams played. In our fraternity everyone knew he was a cheerleader and no one would ever tell him to his face whether this was a sport or not. We knew better and we knew what he did was very athletic.

One of my daughters is a cheerleader; she is not affiliated with a particular team rather they only do competitions. No football or basketball team, just competitions. These young “women” are really strong gymnasts and are in excellent shape. Sure many of them are involved in soccer, softball and other team sports, but for sure they spend a disproportionate amount of time practicing their cheerleading routines. Why do they practice so much? If someone is not in the right place to catch a 100+ pound girl who is falling downward, the repercussions can be disastrous. Broken bones, sprained body parts and even death have occurred by a misstep.

I am sure there are some people reading this blog saying, “Is he kidding me?” Actually I am not. I really believe the amount of work these kids go through is just as rigorous at times as other sports. Sure when there is a football game happening on the field most eyes are fixed on the game. But when a play stops, the eyes turn to the cheerleaders---they are very much a part of the experience.

The photo above was taken at the Championship football game this weekend. If you look closely you will see one of the cheerleaders is falling backward. Call it a good photo, but I call it a better catch on behalf of her teammates. Instead of being injured, they were prepared in case something like this happened. As you can see a number of her teammates were prepared. What I love about this photo is her expression…the same one I would have if it had been me falling from that high above the ground.

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Put me in coach, I’m ready to play

I have never been a coach. Yes I have helped out when asked to do so, but knowing my teaching skills, it’s not something I believe I would be good at doing. But when a coach is good, and can handle the responsibilities of making a team a team, it’s very obvious they have a tremendous amount of talent.

Some of the best coaches I have seen have been John Wooden, Phil Jackson, Scotty Bowman and Joe Torre; they not only knew how to win, but they could keep egos in check. The four above have coached some of the greatest talent to ever step on the ice, court, or field. I remember when the Chicago Bulls traded Will Purdue for Dennis Rodman. Will Purdue seemed to be a safe, non-confrontational bet---Rodman was the complete opposite. But what Phil Jackson knew how to do was to make his team work together---how? He used Zen. Go figure. But then again he created a dynasty.

The other night I witnessed another great coach. He is the coach of the Glenbard West Hilltoppers. (AKA Hitters.) Sure he is not of the caliber of the names above, but what he did was just as big. He took a group of teenagers and molded them into a really good football team. He didn’t have to step on the field or play a single down---but he won the respect of every player (and every fan in the stands). You could see it when the players looked at him---he had them where he needed them to be, focused on the biggest game of their lives and working together as a team. That’s what a great coach has to do. In football yelling is a part of the game; coaches and assistant coaches are quite good at it--yet these kids listen. (Better than my kids do.)

But there is another side---these coaches really care about their players; at least the goods one do! I have been fortunate to see how the great coaches respond to their players before, during and after the game. Yes they do chew them out at times, but like a parent they also put their arms around them to let them know they believe in them. Next time you go to a ballgame watch the coach and notice how he interacts with his or her team. You just might be surprised---and impressed.

I have read a number of photography books (okay, I have looked at the pictures too) and when it comes to sports photography, all photographers say, “Look for that special moment where there is interaction.” The one that happens when the play is over, before it’s begun, or when players interact with their coaches/managers.

The photo above was taken at the Glenbard West/Wheaton Warrenville championship game on Saturday; the game had ended and this picture demonstrates why players care about their coaches. For many, they’re a father figure; they want to impress their coach and be told they did a good job. Most important, they want to hear their coach is proud of them. On Saturday night, each coach on the field had every reason to say these words to their team---no matter what side of the field you were on, they played a great game.

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In this game there are no losers.

Yesterday our family travelled to Champaign, IL to watch the local high school team compete in the state football tournament. Glenbard West (GBW) was 13-0 playing the next town over---Wheaton/Warrenville High School who were 12-1. I am not a big high school football fan, this was the first year I actually went to a game---but this was the game to see. Both teams were charged up and they were ready to play. (The fans were just as riled up as the players---some wore no shirts, others had the team colors, and most of us lost our voices by the end of the game.)

At half time the game score was 7-3; not the usual blow out GBW was accustomed to seeing when they looked up at the scoreboard. When the second half started, I said to my wife, "I am going to shoot down by the field." Since the corner I wanted shoot in was barren, I knew there would be little problem getting down there. I am glad I did. One of the GBW players intercepted a ball and ran it in for a touchdown right into the corner where I was shooting. Just like the last time I shot pictures at one of their games, I was the only photographer within many yards. Sixty pictures later I got the shots that made this play magic.

As the game wore on, and I returned to my seat, it got colder in the stands but much hotter on the field. As time ticked down, GBW was on the 20-something yard line; the kicker, who is very dependable, lined up and missed. Stuff happens. Then they went into overtime and sudden death started; in high school and college football it's where both teams line up on the 10 yard line and have 4 downs to try to score. Both teams scored on their try---so 4 more downs to try and do it again. This time GBW didn't score and Wheaton/Warrenville did. So, they lost the game and the potential championship.

Here's where it gets interesting. Understandably GBW is very disappointed. To come this far and not carry off the trophy is a let down. A huge let down. But, think about how far they came? Think about how many teams would die to be in their shoes (or cleats)? I know it doesn't matter, but in many ways it does. These are the learning experiences that shape people. It's the old adage, "you can't win them all,"and in the end there are a lot more wins ahead in life. I promise.

At the pep rally some of the GBW players didn't show up. They were probably too ashamed, disappointed or upset---only a guess. I can certainly understand; however they should have been there. Not because they wanted to be, but because their fans were waiting for them. It's okay to not win, but these young men are not losers. There is a very big difference.

The photo above was from last night's game. Based upon the reaction of the team in the background, and the team in the foreground, you can probably tell who won and who didn't. But what if the opposite would have happened? Would their lives have really changed? That's what they call destiny and in the end there is little you can do about it. I hope this team appreciates and knows how proud we were to be in those stands last night. I probably will not remember the score or too much about the game months from now---I will remember that both teams put on one heck of a show. Congrats to both teams.

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