My Dodgers. My Redskins. My hope.

Ask any sports fan why they love a certain team and there is a well-rehearsed story complete with dates and events and specific people. My cliff notes version: I love the Dodgers because they played the Yankees in 1977 and 1978 in the World Series and I learned very quickly that you either loved the Yankees or hated them. I hated them. I love the Redskins for similar reasons. I liked the Cowboys until I realized how many other people LOVED the Cowboys, and once Roger Staubach retired, it was easy to switch to the Redskins during my formative years in the early 1980's. If you want the full version, buy me coffee some day and I'd be glad to share that with you.

Times have not been kind to my two teams. After glorious runs for both teams in the 1980's, I have not savored true post-season glory since the Redskins won the Super Bowl in 1991. The Dodgers capped off a decade in which they won two World Series titles, introduced us to Fernando-mania, witnessed one of the most dominant years by a pitcher with Orel Hershiser, and pummeled the mighty A's on Kirk Gibson's memorable home run. The Redskins appeared in the postseason seven times, captured four Conference titles, and won three Super Bowls out of four appearances. It was a good time to be a fan and to this day, my two most admired sports figures are Tommy Lasorda and Joe Gibbs.

I'll skip what has happened since. There have been the occasional post-season appearance and even a win or two. The excitement generated by Manny-wood quickly fizzled out and exposed the embarrassment that we now know as the McCourt’s, and despite a brief return of Coach Gibbs, owner Daniel Snider has done all in his power to create chaos at all levels in the once proud Redskins organization. Both teams have gone through constant managerial turnover and player upheaval.

I have to be honest; it has crossed my minds more than once in the last two years to find another team. However, any true fan will tell you they are hard-wired into their favorite team, their history and their identity. Even though I may adopt another team in as the post-season draws near and my teams have failed to qualify once again, rooting for the Texas Rangers or the Green Bay Packers does not ring true. It lacks the emotional investment that we make in our favorite teams and more often than not I am rooting against their opponent (i.e. when Texas played the Yankees and then the Giants, my two most despised baseball rivals) than truly rooting for them.

There have been a few glimmers of hope in 2011. Despite the fact that I have tuned out most of this MLB season, the Dodgers have put together an impressive run of late to claw back to respectability and be within distance of taking second place from, yes, the Giants. How sweet that would be after their improbable run to the World Series title last year, their first since moving west (the Dodgers have five in that same time span, just saying). I like Don Mattingly, despite his pinstripes pedigree, and I do hope he can build a lasting winner once the McCourts are brandished and run out of town. The Redskins disposed of their dreaded NFC East rival, the Giants under the heavy emotions of 9/11 in D.C. Shanahan has cleaned house, the McNabb experiment did not work and hopefully the likes of Albert Haynesworth(less) will never haunt us again. Good luck Patriots fans. Lest we forget however, that 2010 also started with an improbable win over a similar NFC East foe, and that season quickly went south as well.

So I remain faithful to my Dodgers and Redskins. The Dodgers could very well sport a Cy Young and MVP winner this year in Kershaw and Kemp, respectively, as well as a sub .500 record. I wonder when was the last time that happened. Despite that awkward feeling of cheering for Rex Grossman at quarterback, right now he's our man and saying all the right things. One tidbit that offers a glimmer of hope for the coming year; it's been seven consecutive years that an NFL team has gone from last to first to win their division.

Hope is what makes us fans of any team, isn’t it? The promise of spring training, the parity of the NFL, worst to first, redemption, and to journey together with the players and fans. Hope is what keeps us from switching teams and deserting our cohort. Hope is what keeps us from discarding all the shirts and hats and accessories that we employ to cheer our teams onto victory each time out. Hope springs eternal.

Some observations after watching last night’s Texas Rangers – New York Yankees game

1. The Golden Age of baseball commentators has passed us by – With baseball expansion and dilution of talent also comes the expansion of coverage and color commentary talent. Ernie Johnson Jr., John Smoltz, and Ron Darling were dull, hackneyed and repetitive. I miss the days when Vin Scully would do national broadcasts through the playoffs; he weaves a story through all nine innings of the game.  I thought Ron Darling was a Yale Alum? He talked more like an ex-jock than an educated Yale Eli last night.
2. Call me un-Patriotic, but I’d rather hear a butchered rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” by Harry Caray (God rest his soul) or a some over-hyped local celeb than “God Bless America” during the seventh inning stretch.
3. Josh Hamilton is all that is right about baseball - He seems completely genuine in both his pure baseball talent and his constant struggles with addiction. I’ve witnessed alcoholism and addiction firsthand and I know the fight is never over. Baseball is a sport of redemption and Josh epitomizes that to me. 
4. Why do I have the sinking suspicion that Cliff Lee will be wearing a Yankees uniform next year?
5.  Joe Girardi always seems as though he is holding back some really nasty gas, or perhaps he’s just let some loose. I’m not really sure, and I don’t really want to know.
6. Why do we have outfield umpires in the playoffs? They rarely get home run calls right and we don’t need them for foul calls on the field. I am not for instant replay in baseball, but if you have it, why not use it on any close play? 
7. Nolan Ryan sure looks like he put on 25 years in a hurry since he stopped playing, but I imagine he can still bring the heat.  
8.  Yankee fans seem to be the most overpriced fair weather fans that exist. How else do you explain people who pay $1000+ for a prime seat in the playoffs, and then dessert the stadium in the 7^th inning of a 5-3 game, only 3 nights after their team surmounted a 5 run deficit in the 9th inning?  If any team can overcome a three games to one deficit, wouldn’t it be the vaunted Yankees with all their mystique and Ghosts of Baseball past? Buck up Yankee fans and root for your team until the end and accept you will not win EVERY stinking year.
9. How many uniform combinations do the Texas Rangers have? 
10. I do enjoy watching the Yankees lose. Just saying. 

Murder brought us together!

My wife and I had several opportunities to meet, but never did until that fateful day when we both responded to our civic duty and arrived for Jury Duty on May 20, 1991. We were both in college and Susan lived in a houseful of women whom were on my floor the previous year in the UVM dorms. Though I had visited that house often, I had never met her until we were very briefly introduced by our common friends in early May. It seemed unspectacular at the time, but two weeks later murder brought us together and our worlds have never been separated.

Jury selection was hastily convened in Chittenden County Court for a high-profile murder that had been committed in Franklin County. I had arrived for jury duty as required promptly at 8:00 a.m. Immediately opening the door behind me was the most beautiful smile attached to the prettiest woman I had ever seen (fortuitously the only time I have ever been earlier than her to this day!). A familiar face in an uncomfortable place was the perfect combination. My charm took over and we shared the best cup of worst coffee we have ever known. It was free, so I treated; a recurring theme in our blissful relationship. As the jury selection progressed, so did our budding romantic interest. Fortunately she was eliminated and I was an alternate-alternate, otherwise we would have been sequestered for over two weeks together and a mistrial certainly would have ensued!

As our 90-day jury duty sentence continued, so did our interest in each other. We were often forced to conceal our growing love during the succeeding jury selections to avoid any hint of impropriety in the judicial process. Our first official date was an evening hike up Camel’s Hump followed early the next morning by a subsequent hike up Mt. Pisgah. She never faltered, and neither have we. 13 years and two beautiful children later, we are still very much in love!

So when friends and co-workers bemoan the fact that they have been called to serve their civic duty and squirm for excuses to avoid having to appear, I simply remind them, “You just never know who you might meet on jury duty!”

Are YOU from Jersey?

Having grown up in New Jersey (only NJ folks can rightfully call it Jersey), I’ve always relished my connection to the Garden State. It is a diverse state with beautiful beaches, intimate natural areas and many cultural centers. It is rich in US history and its contributions to agriculture have garnered the state its well-earned moniker as 'The Garden State.' 

As much as I loved New Jersey, I was not fond of the traffic, the burgeoning urban sprawl and the resultant lack of true community. For all of these reasons I moved to Vermont in 1988, both to attend the University of Vermont as well as permanently live here. While no state is without its faults, Vermont remains a great place to raise your children, connect with your community and explore our natural surroundings, yet not be totally isolated from the urban and cultural centers of Boston, New York and Montreal.

I still return to my homeland to visit my sister who lives close to where we grew up in Sussex County.  The kids love seeing the horse farms, the bakeries are second to none, and the people have not changed much. The Jersey stereotypes are humorous and annoying, yet largely accurate.   Many of them were fueled by Joe Piscapo’s recurring SNL  character Paulie Herman and his redundant question “Are you from Joisey?” There is big hair in NJ, plenty of shopping malls and many Guido’s wearing black leather year round. It was just recently that I realized only my Jersey friends and family still call me “Danny.” I wear my New Jersey heritage like a badge of honor, yet I love my Vermont and it is here that I now call home and have no plans to leave.

I was amused when reading the Burlington Free Press on June 21 with two articles, only a few pages apart. The first “New website looks to tout all that's good about NJ” highlighted the efforts of some courageous Jersians to dispel the long-held myths that have only been perpetuated with the recent shows of “Jersey Shore” and “Real Housewives of New Jersey.” The website Jersey Doesn’t Stink (http://jerseydoesntstink.com/) touts some welcoming badges like “Download our DIGITAL FIGHT KIT” and “WE’RE SICK OF THE CLICHES.” Of course there’s an accompanying Twitter page (@NJdoesntstink) and Facebook page (http://www.facebook.com/JerseyDoesntStink). Mind you, I love New Jersey, but I won’t take up the fight. My personal opinion is you typically earn your reputation; Vermont is small and quirky, New Jersey is crowded and obnoxious. I am perfectly fine with both. While the stereotypes do not apply to everyone in the state, it would be tough to argue there is a not a well grounded reason for these perceptions (see Howard Dean 2004 Presidential campaign or New Jersey Turnpike).  

Following that article was a slightly contrarian view of life in New Jersey entitled “Shore wars: Who owns the beaches?” While the Jersey shore has long been touted as one of the gems of the Garden State, local residents often do all they can to restrict public access to 'their' beaches for the legitimate fear of overcrowding or pollution. It harks of the 'tragedy of the commons' when a multitude of people have access to and use a common good yet no one controls ownership or decisions regarding its long term care. Access to the beaches is largely dictated by the 'Public Trust doctrine' which dates back to ancient Roman law and seeks to provide for adequate public access and equitable land use. Very few landowners are even aware of the Public Trust doctrine nor its current legal ramifications. We face similar issues here in Vermont with access to and pollution of Lake Champlain. Tactics to limiting access along the Jersey shoreline include lack of local parking, ridiculous day use fees and no public bathhouses. While these issues are not unique to the Jersey Shore, it’s a shame to see a treasure like the Jersey Shore locked up for the select few at a time when every state needs to maximize its public access and tourist revenue.

The juxtaposition of these two articles was ironic; “We’re good people from a great state, don’t make fun of us” compared to “Stay away from our best places because we like to think we own them.” Before we here in Vermont beat our collective chests too loudly, Vermont is chock full of its own contradictions, such as “We are a green, progressive and welcoming state, yet keep those wind towers away and don't build anything next to my new oversized home.” The key issue in the upcoming Gubernatorial (love that word!) election will revolve around “Is Vermont good or bad for business?”

Every state has its own tension of reputation versus reality and immigrants versus residents. It’s difficult to fault the Jersey shore residents for seeking to limit beach access if it brings undesired consequences, much as Vermont wants to be welcoming to business and economic growth while remaining small, quaint and rural. I’m not sure New Jersey will lose its “Guido” reputation any time soon, much as Vermonters will often have to answer questions like “Is Vermont a state?” and “Do you have movie theaters there?” Ultimately I believe it boils down to each individual and how you treat your neighbors; that's where reputations are earned. My philosophy in life regardless of where I choose to live, is taken from John Gorka, a fellow New Jersian now living in Minnesota, from his aptly titled song, “I’m From New Jersey:”  

"I'm from New Jersey
I don't expect too much
If the world ended today
I would adjust."

Finishing, or just starting?

“…I’m sure you’ll be successful in whatever you decide to do, but don’t ever forget that a little help from your friends is o.k.”
Pam Barr, high school math teacher, as written in my senior yearbook

The completion of this paper also signals the completion of my Master’s degree from the University of Vermont. While I look forward to the relief of not being required to study or read (or feel guilty for not), I will continue to learn throughout my lifetime and I may choose to pursue further post-grad programs. As I reflect back on my education, I realize now that I was a non-traditional undergraduate student before that became the norm for many students; I took two years off after high school against the advice of my advisor and paid my own way through the most expensive out of state school in the nation. It was only recently that I realized I was a first generation college student and one of only two in my family circle to complete a graduate degree. The most significant educational moment though came only a few weeks ago. As Susan and I planned for the May 2010 graduation, I made mention that completing the degree was the reward I sought and the act of walking across the stage to receive my diploma held little value for me. With that statement, my wife Susan offered a look of consternation and tilted her head slightly to the side, perhaps she waggled her finger at me too, I do not fully recall. “You need to walk across that stage Daniel, so Katherine and Robert can see what you have been working towards for all these years,” she implored. It was a moment that struck home the lesson that I learned earlier upon the completion of hiking the Long Trail; though I hiked alone, I was not hiking for myself.

Running Away.

“The purpose of life is to be happy. In order to change conditions outside of ourselves, whether they concern the environment or relations with others, we must first change within ourselves.”

Dalia Lama

 “One cannot even begin to be conscious of oneself as a separate individual without another person with whom to compare oneself. A man in isolation is a collective man, a man without individuality.”

Anthony Storr in “Solitude: A Return to Self”

A ESPN TV commercial in 2007 depicted a woman, on her front lawn, stretching out for a run. Preparing for the run with her was a multitude of characters: her husband, children, pets, neighbors, co-workers, her boss and a host of others. They each begin the journey with her, continually interrupting her exercise and time alone.  Her boss asks about some sales figures and a project deadline at work. Her teenage daughter is declaring that she and Victor are ‘ready’ while her younger daughter begs for a puppy. A neighbor lets her know she has been missed at book club. Her doctor is warning her of her blood pressure while her husband is indicating he will need to miss her sister’s shower in lieu of the golf club championship tomorrow. Undaunted, the woman continues to run until all have fallen off the back of the pack or collapsed by the side of the trail in exhaustion. Finally, she is alone. She is “Just Doing It.”

I have felt similar pressures at times, even though I have consciously chosen to lead a simpler life with fewer attachments.  While I have always been very fortunate in my life with friends and family, there remained an unexplored part of my self. The quiet cries from that self were difficult to hear at times, but they are always there and always calling me out.  The struggles in my life were nowhere near to the struggles of the prisoners that Viktor Frankl tells of in “Man’s Search for Meaning,” yet we shared a common bond, as all humans do, in the desire to have the ability to choose our attitude in any given set of circumstances.

I believe our circles shift over time. A newborn baby will consume your time and leave little room for self or community. Pressures at work or volunteering in the community will have similar ebbs and flows. Struggles in a marriage may push you in opposite directions. The three circles remain, however, and failure to address the critical needs in any one will create anxiety that can ripple through the system, affecting all within its reach.

My hike on the Long Trail was an important exercise in solitude for myself.  Anthony Storr elaborates on the benefits of solitude as an agent for individual change; “The capacity to be alone is a valuable resource when changes of a mental attitude are required,” (Storr 1998, p. 29). Following in the footsteps of Jesus in the wilderness and Buddha under the tree, my time alone on the trail led me to find community, family and self as I had not before. In a world where noise and interference is ubiquitous, where family and community are consistently wrestling for my attention, time spent truly alone is precious.

The self though, is only as meaningful as it relates to others, in my case those in my circles of family and community. Storr posits that “a sense of identity depends upon interaction with both the physical world and other people” (Storr, 1998, p. 35). The pursuit of self should not be the end of the journey, but only the beginning of greater understanding of how my circles of self are distinct yet inextricably linked. 
    

For me, the simple act of a solitary retreat into the woods of Vermont was the Everest I chose to climb. That was my “it.” It allowed me time to reflect and renew, to realize that I was capable of summiting that peak, and allowing others to understand why it was important for them too. As a result, it has helped me articulate what is important to me in my life, what is important for my family, and what is important to the friends and neighbors that I pass through this world with. We each have our own Everest to climb, be it the real monolith or the one simple hope that will not expire.

Why does any of this matter?

“Man’s search for meaning is the primary motivation in his life and not a “secondary rationalization” of instinctual drives.”

            Viktor Frankl in “Man’s Search for Meaning”

In his book “Into the Wild,” Jon Krakauer chronicles the life of Christopher McAndless. Christopher was born only days apart from me in 1968. Throughout the book, I drew many similarities between our life journeys.  Born of caring yet sometimes distant parents, his troubled relationship with his father led Chris to question much of his upbringing and many of the messages he received from society. Chris often looked inwardly for meaning and drew his inspiration from exploring, meeting new people and traveling across the country. He found himself drawn to Alaska and the frontier life, as if to finally prove his worth in a battle against only himself. Likewise, Alaska has and always will pull at my desires to explore and help me rediscover myself. It is an Everest that still waits for me.  

            I read Krakauer’s account of McAndless’s life and I was eager to watch the movie with my wife.  The book and movie end with Chris dying in a lonely bus that he used for shelter in the wilds of Alaska, the victim of starvation after probably eating seed pods he thought would be safe. Nearing starvation, one of his final acts was to take a picture of himself in the hopes it would one day be found. Despite his emaciated condition, likely only hours from his own death, he appears to be smiling and at peace in the photo.

As the movie concludes with Chris’ lifeless eyes peering deep into the skies, I asked my wife what she thought of the story. “Sad, depressing” she said. “Why was he so selfish and stupid? Where was his family? What did you think?” My reply was a complete 180. “I found it inspiring. Chris was seeking truth and hope and was digging into the marrow of his life. It is always sad when someone dies alone, but that was his journey that he chose. Chris did not leave that page of his life unturned, and he died with a certain peace of mind that few ever experience.”   

This was not the first time my wife and I had different viewpoints on a movie or event. Why was it that I was somehow inspired though and my wife was seemingly depressed?  How many other events and decisions in our lives have arrived at with diametrically opposing viewpoints? We all view stories and events through our own lens, shaped by a lifetime of experience and perspectives. I’ve often wished for others to be able to look through my lens so that it would be that much simpler for others to understand me, namely my wife.

Examining my own three circles, I now understand how important that part of self is to me, though not at the expense of the other two circles. Balance has been essential to maintain my own happiness. Within that circle lie independence, strength, nature, wisdom, and individualism. All of these characteristics I shared with Christopher McAndless; I likely share some of these traits with my wife as well. However, I chose to marry her to complement me, and this she has always done well. I have resorted at times to feeling as though the circle of self is not important to her, yet I have never gone so far as to ask her what might truly lie within her circle of self. Beyond my own wife and my family, how are we to know what is important to others?

Perhaps the search for self is ultimately a search for meaning, or hope, or the dreams that are often the result of having a hope that gives you greater meaning. Viktor Frankl wrote of this search for meaning as “the primary motivation in our lives and not a “secondary rationalization” of instinctual drives”.  He arrived at this conclusion while a prisoner in the Nazi Concentration Camps and bearing witness to fellow prisoners in their struggle to maintain life, “…with this loss of belief in the future, he also lost his spiritual hold; he let himself decline and became subject to mental and physical decay” (Frankl 1984, p. 105).

            For me, my hope was to hike the Long Trail, among many adventures I dreamed of. More than the hike though, it was that shred of independence, that test of strength, and a morsel of communicating with the Almighty. Those will remain with me and are integral parts of my circle of self. For my wife, it may have more to do with the worth she derives from raising our children, or the time alone she can steal while working in the garden. For each, the circle of self is distinct and unique. Each act of self though is wrapped in family and community as the three circles are always connected.

            As we each hope for different reasons, we will each have different circles in our lives. At times, I have felt that my wife is so invested in her circle of family that it comes at the expense of her self. As a result, it affects our relationship as husband and wife. This anxiety then permeates back through the system and may ultimately affect the family and communities that we associate with. This would only be true, however, if her circles were identical to my own circles. The same can be said for understanding any person’s circles of self or community. For some, community may only be a few select friends and work.