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So, you want to be a sportswriter …

Shelby Strother / The Detroit News

The letter was handwritten, more polite than most, and it began: “Sir, I am interested in becoming a sportswriter and would like any suggestions you might offer to help me …”

What are you, nuts?

Hunter S. Thompson, whose doctorate in gonzo shields the fact he once made a living writing about sports, has said, “Sportswriters are a kind of rude and brainwashed subculture of fascist drunks whose only real function is to publicize and sell whatever the sports editor sends them out to cover.”



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GOODBYE SUMMER, - REPOST

I originally posted this in 2006, just as true now as ever.

I am so not ready for high school football. I love the game. Football truly is the greatest thing to happen to the fall since the hayride. I just hate the first week of the season. It’s the mad dash to get everything finished. The commercials, the audio, everything. It’s like tax season for the tax evader. Okay maybe.

I think I know why it just bugs me. Every August 13, I am hit with a sobering fact. I am not 22 and this cocky, brash, goofy college student matriculating in Huntington County.. I am a brash, goofy, flippant, sometimes ingenious sportscaster. It’s the idea that my misspent youth is slipping further into the cobwebs of my mind. It is pretty dusty there.

August is the last gasp of summer defending its turf. Pack up the shorts and the lemonade, soon it will be hot chocolate and long johns. Can Geritol and Metamucil be that far behind. Speaking of behind, there’s that visit to the doctor in a few years for that one check up… Oh boy. Don’t remind me.

But, there is something great about football in the fall. It’s reminder that you can not only endure the cold and bitter, you can thrive on it. You can dig deep and wrap your arms around it and you can let it define you. It does define you it grabs you. It says with the help of my friends I can get through. It says I am not in it alone… with a little bit of work even the high-tech game of football is simple and understandable in the context of all its parts.

And those parts are like life. You have to have every one of them, you have to have each one in combination together or you’ll get crushed. You’ll lose out. My friend, look at your life, look at its component parts. Are you neglecting anything? Think about it and really answer what am I missing. What can I do to really re-tool and reinvest myself for the rest of my life?

There was a motto from the football coach at my high school, we’ll actually too. The opportunistic Woodlan Warriors operated under the rallying cry of “Make it Happen.” You had to take responsibility. You had to define the moment. You had to make life your own. And there was another saying that coach would say. “Don’t count the days, make the days count. Pretty simple. Fill your moments with hard work and effort and get after it.

So, bring on football. Bring on the fall. I don’t have to love it, but I can enjoy it.

Head first into hypocrisy

It's been more than twenty years since Pete Rose was banned from baseball. It's obvious he did it. It's obvious his playing career merits inclusion in the Hall of Fame.

Now with a new firestorm of opinion and reports, there is substantial talk that Commissioner Bud Selig is considering welcoming him back.

The Dowd Report and all 200 and some of its pages document evidence of Rose betting -including betting on his own games as a manager. Through bank, telephone, betting records, witness and Rose himself, it's clear he bet on the game.

He admitted to gambling in his book. He agreeded to the terms of the settlement - a lifetime ban from the game. (Rose was granted a concession in which he could apply for reinstatement once a year for as long as he lived.)

Every major and minor league lockerroom has a sign that clearly states Major League baseball's stand on gambling. It's called Rule 21b

Has Rose even admitted shame or apologized? If he was actively showing remorse or getting involved with programs that show a change of character.

There is no question he knew his actions and he knew the risks. Baseball has banned more than 20 players since 1919 for betting on the game.

Baseball has even leveled bans - which were overturned later - for Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays for signing autographs at a casino in 1973, well after their induction to the Hall. There punishment wasn't related to the on-field performance of a team.

I think lifting the ban is a bad idea - but, given Selig's track record, it will probably be yet another disaster he brought about.

Re-instating Rose is a horrible precident. What do you do with the players like Shoeless Joe Jackson who should be in the Hall based on his numbers. His involvement with gambling is much less dubious then Rose.

How do you apologize to him? How do you make it right?

Baseball is saying one of it's most sacred - and critical rules doesn't matter.

It also begs the question of steroids. The Barry Bonds (allegedly) Mark McGwire's, the Sammy Sosa's and other players who had stellar careers and were artificially aided. I might add while most of baseball was aware of it and chose to ignore it.

It's very convenient to sweep the integrity issue under the rug, saying it's about numbers and the results. Sports aren't intended to be a moral showcase. No doubt it isn't.

But the game is played with a standard, with rules, with courtesy and understanding. That's how the game operates. The rubrick calls for three strikes, three outs, nine-innings.

The rule also states betting on baseball is grounds for a lifetime ban. There can be no compromise on this rule. That's why its not called professional wrestling.

Baseball has to take the high road. A task that I don't believe it has the fortitude or ability to do.

Here's my suggestion: Put Rose in a seperate display at the Hall of Fame. His records, his accomplishments all the great things he did as a player and maybe the one or two good things he did as a manager. Also present his gambling problem. If he's overcome it document that. Be sure to include the other players who were banned and make a case for why integrity has to matter to the fans. How baseball in 1919 had to make a statement to protect its authenticity.

Perhaps shed light on the problem of gambling and the web of problems it creates and the lives broken. It's not to humliate Rose, but provide a fair tribute to his career, while clearly making its case about gambling.

We can forgive Rose and other players who did worse things. Even one of us needs a fresh opportunity and grace. We can't ignore the problems, but we can build on them...and sometimes the best thing that can happen to us, is a bad thing.


Dean Jackson | Create Your Badge

One man's trash, another man's treasure.

Every one has a story. A stuffed animal once loved by a boy or a girl. A dog earred comic book helping to pass the time. I spent the better part of two hours this afternoon at a local antique store. I didn't really plan to go into the store but the window displays of old furniture, a 1930s telephone and a radio lured me inside.

As I strolled through the aisles, I was flooded with memories. A table that looked like the one mom had from grandma. A Pillsbury doughboy doll like the one I had as a kid. An ocassional Fisher-Price playset. Old magazines, LPs, cassettes... seems like forever since we used them.

I couldn't help wonder the stories these artifacts would tell. The birthday present, the anniversary gift, maybe a doodad from a vacation.

Then I had to stop, a recent funeral and upcoming family reunion and a new baby all combine to challenge me to consider what memories am I making. What am I doing to leave legacy to friends and family.

I believe memories are what keep us churning ahead in the tough moments. Those mental monuments that make us stop and reflect on a lesson and a lifestyle.

Proverbs 10:7 says The memory of the righteous will be a blessing. Are you creating blessings for those around you?

Is the AFL's timeout the end?

Reprinted from OurSportsCentral, December 15, 2008
by Dean Jackson


It seemed to happen so quickly, but it really didn't. Like most things, the collapse of the Arena Football League wasn't all that sudden. It was the result of a long set of choices, or lack of action.
I suppose we should have seen it coming. In the late 1990's came the AFL's version of the players union, eventually came expansion and partnership with NFL owners.

There was even a time when the rumor was the NFL was going to make the AFL its minor league. Some speculated the Arena League would take on an NFL trademark.

Maybe Arena Football started believing its press releases. Maybe "rock-n-roll" football thought in order to be another major league sport, it had to spend like a major league sport. Lots of ink, lots of B-roll, but at the end of the day, very little to back it up.

We've all read about franchise values increasing from $500 thousand to $10, $12 or $15 million. We saw the sticker, but did we kick the tires?

There are great players. I am interested to see what trickles down to the indoor leagues. I am told af2 teams have been forbidden from signing AFL guys, but we'll see. I believe most of these guys, or at least a good number simply want to play ball and will do so for $200 a game.

Count me on the side of saying a time-out isn't the answer. Out of sight, out of mind very well could translate into off my radar, forever.

I hope I am wrong about the AFL's future. I really hope you can say to me at this time next year, "You were wrong."

At least if you are playing, you still are in the hearts and minds of your fans and sponsors. Give them something to hold their attention while you worked things out. Instead, this says we aren't willing to consider the potential financial loss of 2009 as an investment. Things are so bad we'll call a do-over. We can't salvage what we have. Let's reheat it in 2010 and serve it up as a new menu item.

Is that a good signal to send to fans? Do you feel comfortable slapping down $500, $1000 for season tickets for that?

When the big four major leagues had their labor strikes, they had a solid fan base built over decades. While fans were soured, they did come back. I don't think Arena Football can afford to do that to its fans. Just a quick look at their television ratings on ESPN, and there isn't a lot to lose.

If there was a fan base, that is outside the venue, we'd still be watching games on over-the-air NBC.

There are tons of choices and little extra revenue to share. I can't see it coming back to AFL pockets.

There are a few franchises I can see folding.

It's a gamble that Arena Football can't afford to take... but I could be wrong. I hope I am.

Dean Jackson has broadcast Arena and indoor football and hosted the popular "Under the Roof," a weekly podcast devoted to indoor and Arena football on OurSports Central from 2005 to 2007.


by Dean Jackson
December 15, 2008 - Arena Football League (AFL)

It seemed to happen so quickly, but it really didn't. Like most things, the collapse of the Arena Football League wasn't all that sudden. It was the result of a long set of choices, or lack of action.
I suppose we should have seen it coming. In the late 1990's came the AFL's version of the players union, eventually came expansion and partnership with NFL owners.

There was even a time when the rumor was the NFL was going to make the AFL its minor league. Some speculated the Arena League would take on an NFL trademark.

Maybe Arena Football started believing its press releases. Maybe "rock-n-roll" football thought in order to be another major league sport, it had to spend like a major league sport. Lots of ink, lots of B-roll, but at the end of the day, very little to back it up.

We've all read about franchise values increasing from $500 thousand to $10, $12 or $15 million. We saw the sticker, but did we kick the tires?

There are great players. I am interested to see what trickles down to the indoor leagues. I am told af2 teams have been forbidden from signing AFL guys, but we'll see. I believe most of these guys, or at least a good number simply want to play ball and will do so for $200 a game.

Count me on the side of saying a time-out isn't the answer. Out of sight, out of mind very well could translate into off my radar, forever.

I hope I am wrong about the AFL's future. I really hope you can say to me at this time next year, "You were wrong."

At least if you are playing, you still are in the hearts and minds of your fans and sponsors. Give them something to hold their attention while you worked things out. Instead, this says we aren't willing to consider the potential financial loss of 2009 as an investment. Things are so bad we'll call a do-over. We can't salvage what we have. Let's reheat it in 2010 and serve it up as a new menu item.

Is that a good signal to send to fans? Do you feel comfortable slapping down $500, $1000 for season tickets for that?

When the big four major leagues had their labor strikes, they had a solid fan base built over decades. While fans were soured, they did come back. I don't think Arena Football can afford to do that to its fans. Just a quick look at their television ratings on ESPN, and there isn't a lot to lose.

If there was a fan base, that is outside the venue, we'd still be watching games on over-the-air NBC.

There are tons of choices and little extra revenue to share. I can't see it coming back to AFL pockets.

There are a few franchises I can see folding.

It's a gamble that Arena Football can't afford to take... but I could be wrong. I hope I am.

Dean Jackson has broadcast Arena and indoor football and hosted the popular "Under the Roof," a weekly podcast devoted to indoor and Arena football on OurSports Central from 2005 to 2007.

When the Phillies defeated Los Angeles last night, it made me stop and think back to a younger time for me. Another time when the Phils were playing in a World Series.

It was the first time I really dug into baseball. I mean really cared. The year was 1980. It was a hard fought National League Division series with a highly favored Houston Astro team, if I remember right. (I still see Jose Cruz crying after the loss in the dugout.) It was Mike Schmidt who blasted homers 48 of them or something while playing pretty strong at the hot corner.

I was all of 12 years old, a sixth grader at Harlan Elementary School. Ronald Reagan was charming a nation of voters wanting change. It was a trip to Chicago’s Field Museum and the Museum of Science and Industry. It was Roger Staubach ending his scrambling in Dallas. (It was me worrying about what would happen to America's Team)

It was Philadelphia, it was Kansas City. It was two of baseball’s marquee superstars: Pete Rose and Kansas City’s George Brett. And, in the benefit of discretion, Brett’s publicized medical condition. But...I digress. (Pun intended) Let’s not forget that wonderfully crazy centerfield waterfall at what was called Royals Stadium.

It was the Bull – Greg Lusinski – lumbering in left field. It was Steve Carlton winning 24 games. It was a Tug McGraw, his antics and positive attitude had a national thinking – we gotta believe.

That was 28 years ago. That’s the thing about sports, there’s always another story, the latest greatest next thing. It’s another reminder that your time on top of the mountain will be short. A not so sweet lesson of life, this too will pass.
Pete Ross was (is?) destined for the Hall of Fame. Ronald Reagan moved us from a national “depression”, recession and stood up to Soviet aggression.

Tug McGraw moved from being a baseball player to being the dad of music icon Tim McGraw and cancer victim.

Brett and Schmidt are etched into displays at their respective halls of fame. Luzinski – just a name connected to a couple World Series champions.

Staubach gave way to Danny White, then Troy Aikman and any number of other quarterbacks since.

And me, a 40-year old writer-broadcaster-publicist that’s left wondering how did I get this old so soon

Kicking the Crutches

Last winter I broke my knee ice skating. (Yes, I'll go ice skating again.) It's one of those moments that I can use to show off wounds for years. There's a nice scar about 4 to 6 inches that stretches over my left knee. Ask me I'll show you sometime.

For about 6 to 8 weeks I had to use crutches to get around. I hated it. It was pretty hard to be immobile, but I got through it. Here are some observations I gathered during that time.

While I'm referencing literal crutches, I want you to look at the things you may be using as crutches in your life. Friends, relationships, alcohol, your job -- whatever.



Crutches are temporary: You really aren't meant to be using them for very long. You have to focus on getting off them.

You aren't really walking:You are hobbling, you are just one step better than crawling.

Keep you safe:When you are on crutches you move slowly, constantly cautious about where you are stepping. You really aren't concentrating on anything but not tripping.

Crutches don't promote growth:You can't build muscle or strength if you aren't using your own legs. When you are leaning on something you aren't getting better.

They frustrate you:You know you can do better and its a test of patience.

Keep you dependent:You tend to trust your tools then who you are. You aren't challenged.

Flimsy:They don't really provide much support if you really needed it.

That's What Love is

I heard this song on the radio this morning. I don't know what's going on in your heart, I don't know what's happening with your "Love"...but I thought you might appreciate this...




THAT'S WHAT LOVE IS
By David Phelps
It’s the only thing worth life and death
It’s the first moment and the final breath
It’s a broken heart keeping a solemn vow
And a lost soul being found
You pray for faith when it’s hard to believe
You choose to stay when it’s easy to leave
And when hope is gone you’re the one who keeps holding on

That’s what love is
When you give until there’s nothing left
And it makes you give the very best
That’s what love is
It can make you laugh and make you cry
It can let you down and lift you up so high
When you find the only reason left to live
That’s what love is

It’s the dream you give up for someone else
It’s being strong when you’re weak yourself
Though it tears you up you trust again
Hatred loses and forgiveness wins
You turn your cheek when you want to fight
Sell all you have and lay down your life
And when hope is gone you’re the one who keeps holding on


It’s reaching out and holding on so someone else will know
Love is in the not letting go

The Problem of Pain

So much off my life is about impatience. I hate to wait for things to happen. I like the quick fix and I like to make things happen. Right or wrong, I love to do it by the seat of my pants.

I’m about getting on the fast-track for a job (which I never have able to do), or having the right contact or taking one more assignment.

Most of you know I am going through a deep heartbreak and it cuts to the center of my soul.

Yesterday I as I was ambling through the streets of Chicago I was struck with an interesting nugget of truth. The problem of pain, isn’t pain its self. It’s how we seek to avoid it.

I am not talking about head aches or the hurt of a broken knee cap after an ice-skating mishap. (Yes, my knee is back to almost 100 percent. I am not running or jogging, but I didn’t do it that much before.) I am talking about the hard lessons of life. Losing a job, healing a broken heart, the death of a loved one or even hard, labor-intensive work – they all have something wrapped inside them that we have to go through to understand and grow from.

This description lacks biological depth but, It’s when a butterfly is in a cocoon – the butterfly has to fight its way out to be beautiful, other wise it would still be a caterpillar.

Twenty years ago in college – a close friend and staff member told me something very hard to swallow. But, yesterday I think I finally grabbed hold it. He said, “Dean, you typically avoid doing the hard-things.”

Yesterday somewhere between the Borders across from the Water Tower and the Chicago River I found it.

Every hardship usually has a lesson that we have to learn in the midst of it. It usually has a lesson about me that means I have to dig in and crawl through. It means I have to look myself straight in the eye and see myself. I have to take responsibility and I have to embrace the pain, before I get the lesson.

It’s kinda like this, up till recently, when I was bored – I would grab something to eat. Not that I was hungry, I wanted to be busy. I didn’t like being inactive. Other times, I’d get on the phone to talk to a friend rather than just be quiet and think… still other times, I’d jump online and surf the internet.

Nothing wrong with any of these activities, but they are often just spinning our wheels when we should be listening to ourselves think.

We seek to avoid discomfort. Actually, that’s WHAT we should be seeking. Something about pain and the unpleasant that makes us be honest, forces us to our knees to find an answer.

That’s why some people look to drugs and alcohol. Others in relationships – any relationship – or maybe it’s a new job. Change of scenery or personnel always gives you something to hope for rather than look inside. It could be a hobby. Just something to get our minds distracted.

Here’s my deep thought of the day. Pain hurts! But, it can heal us. You don’t have to like trouble, but you do have to go through it – eventually.

A wise friend of mine, used to tell me “you can’t outrun your problems.” You can’t. Those issues say more about who we are, why we are, and why we are were we are. Our issues aren’t built by situations, they are revealed by them.


I am a huge student of history and military conflict. So often when a major battle was underway, what did a solider do? He’d settle in for the long haul. Win or lose, they knew they would not be moved. In World War II and in other conflicts, they’d dig a fox hole.

In the movie Braveheart, William Wallace implored his men to fight and defend their lands. Even to the point of death they understood that it wasn’t about the fight, it was about the future of a free Scotland.

This is also about your own victory – It may not be quick, it may not be easy, but I believe you’ll be better for going through it and understanding why.

Here’s your shovel, let’s dig in.

Luckiest Man: Lou Gehrig retires on this date

This is a repost of a blog entry created July 4, 2008.







Sixty nine years ago today, Lou Gehrig said goodbye to baseball. Stricken with the early stages of ALS, Gehrig takes to the field at Yankee Stadium one last time. As you know, a great ballplayer who was part of those dynastic New York Yankees teams in the 1920s and 1930s.

Here's a tribute to him and the value of facing your adversity with a positive, conquering attitude.

"Fans, for the past two weeks you have been reading about a bad break I got. Yet today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.

I have been to ballparks for seventeen years and I have never received anything but kindness and encouragement from you fans. Look at these grand men. Which of you wouldn’t consider it the highlight of his career just to associate with them for even one day?


Sure I’m lucky. Who wouldn’t have considered it an honor to have known Jacob Ruppert? Also, the builder of baseball’s greatest empire, Ed Barrow? To have spent six years with that wonderful little fellow, Miller Huggins?

Then to have spent the next nine years with that outstanding leader, that smart student of psychology, the best manager in baseball today, Joe McCarthy?

Sure, I'm lucky. When the New York Giants, a team you would give your right arm to beat and vice versa, sends you a gift, that’s something. When everybody down to the groundskeepers and those boys in the white coats remember you with trophies, that’s something.

When you have a father and mother who work all their lives so that you can have an education and build your body, it's a blessing.

When you have a wife who has been a tower of strength and shown more courage than you dreamed existed, that's the finest I know.

So I close by saying that I might have been given a bad break, but I've got an an awful lot to live for. Thank you."

Gehrig's Obituary

Only death could stop him

Below is the heft of the original obituary. Though Gehrig's death was grieved by many, the event was (as Gehrig's luck tended to go) overshadowed by a bigger international event - Kaiser Wilhelm, despised German emperor that played a key role in World War I, died the same day.

Printed in New York Times, June 3, 1941:

Gehrig, "Iron Man" Of Baseball, Dies at the Age of 37

Rare Disease Forced Famous Batter to Retire in 1939 - Played 2,130 Games in a Row

Set Many Hitting Marks

Native of New York, He Became Star of Yankees - Idol of Fans Throughout Nation

Lou Gehrig, former first baseman of the New York Yankees and one of the outstanding batsmen baseball has known, died at his home, 5204 Delafield Avenue, in the [Riverdale] section of the Bronx, last night. Death came to the erstwhile "Iron Man" at 10:10 o'clock. He would have been 38 years old on June 19.

Regarded by some observers as the greatest player ever to grace the diamond, Gehrig, after playing in 2,130 consecutive championship contests, was forced to end his career in 1939 when an ailment that had been hindering his efforts was diagnosed as a form of paralysis.

The disease was chronic, and for the last month Gehrig, had been confined to his home. He lost weight steadily during the final weeks and was reported twenty-five pounds under weight shortly before he died.

Member of Parole Board

Until his illness became more serious Gehrig went to his office regularly to perform his duties as a member of the New York City Parole Commission, a post he had held for a year and a half following his retirement from baseball. Ever hopeful that he would be able to conquer the rare disease - amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, a hardening of the spinal cord - although the ailment was considered incurable by many, Gehrig stopped going to his desk about a month ago to conserve his strength.

Two weeks ago he was confined to his bed, and from that time until his death, his condition grew steadily worse. He was conscious until just before the end. At the bedside when he died were his wife, the former Eleanor Twitchell of Chicago; his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Gehrig; his wife's mother, Mrs. Nellie Twitchell, and Dr. Caldwell B. Esselstyn.

It was said last night that funeral services would be private and would be held tomorrow morning at 10 o'clock in the Christ Episcopal Church in Riverdale. The Rev. Gerald V. Barry will officiate.

The body was taken this morning to the E. Willis Scott Funeral Parlor at 4 West Seventy-sixth Street.

Record Spanned Fifteen Years

When Gehrig stepped into the batter's box as a pinch hitter for the Yankees on June 1, 1925, he started a record that many believe will never be equaled in baseball. From that day on he never missed a championship game until April 30, 1939 - fifteen seasons of Yankee box scores with the name of Gehrig always in the line-up. He announced on May 2, 1939, that he would not play that day, and thus his streak came to an end.

But as brilliant as was his career, Lou will be remembered for more than his endurance record. He was a superb batter in his heyday and a prodigious clouter of home runs. The record book is liberally strewn with his feats at the plate.

From Meet the Press to Meet Jesus

This is a post I just finished reading from my friend and former co-worker Dave Macy. Regardless of your theology leanings (if at all), Dave brings it home. We all will face death.

I am not trying to be flippant with that title..just real. I liked Tim Russert, and his sudden death was shocking to me on a personal level for more than a few reasons.

I will be 58 on July 12th. Tim was 58. I spent 30 years in radio broadcasting and journalism but obviously did not reach the pinnacle of a broadcasting career like Tim did. But anyone in the biz would consider him a colleague. Tim was a Catholic-- I grew up Catholic, and it was in 1997 that I was born again. I know some people will raise an eyebrow and say "you're one of those born agains", but Jesus said unless one is born again he will not see the Kingdom of Heaven.

Was Tim Russert conservative or liberal? Who cares-- he was a fine interviewer and cared more about the truth from those he probed than most journalists. He became the standard in a town (DC) where most notable figures have no standards. He will be missed. Is he irreplacable? NO. But his death --any death-- affects us all. The immortal bard John Donne said it best: "No man is an island...each is a piece of the continent, a part of the whole. Ask not for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee.

Dave Macy is a former radio broadcaster and the founder of Doubt Free Living. To find out more visit www.doubtfreeliving.com

Some thoughts on Life from Roy Williams

From time to time I find some thoughts from friends and email, here's one of those emails. This one from Roy Williams, he's the author of the "Wizard of Ads" and other advertising strategies. He's also the founder of the Wizard Academy. Check it out at www.wizardacademy.com

It's Always Okay To Begin Again

"The object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul." – G.K. Chesterton

Pay Attention to the Little Things

"It is often said that before you die your life passes before your eyes. It is in fact true. It's called living." – Terry Pratchett

"No trumpets sound when the important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made known silently." – Agnes De Mille

Know What You Want

"I can teach anybody how to get what they want out of life. The problem is that I can't find anybody who can tell me what they want." – Mark Twain

Don't Think You Know It All

"The more we live by our intellect, the less we understand the meaning of life." – Leo Tolstoy

"And he goes through life, his mouth open, and his mind closed." – Oscar Wilde

Don't Be A Couch Potato

"Literacy is a very hard skill to acquire, and once acquired it brings endless heartache – for the more you read, the more you learn of life's intimidating complexity of confusion. But anyone who can learn to grunt is bright enough to watch TV… which teaches that life is simple, and happy endings come to those whose hearts are in the right place." – Spider Robinson

"If I show up at your house 10 years from now, and find nothing in your living room but Reader's Digests, nothing in your bedroom but the latest Dan Brown novel… I will chase you down to the end of your driveway and back shouting 'Where are the damn books?… Why are you living the mental equivalent of a Kraft Macaroni & Cheese life?'" - Stephen King, to the 2005 graduating class of the University of Maine

You're Going To Have Some Bad Days

"Life does not have to be perfect to be wonderful." – Annette Funicello

"Life is like a train. It's bearing down on you and guess what? It's going to hit you. So you can either start running when it's far off in the distance, or you can pull up a chair, crack open a beer, and just watch it come." – Eric Forman, on That 70s Show

"My life has been filled with terrible misfortune; most of which never happened." – Montaigne

Have Courage

"Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. Security does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than exposure." – Helen Keller

"Those of us who refuse to risk and grow get swallowed up by life." – Patty Hansen

Love Your Job

"Work is about a search for daily meaning as well as daily bread, for recognition as well as cash, for astonishment rather than torpor; in short, for a sort of life rather than a Monday through Friday sort of dying." – Studs Terkel

Don't Forget to Have Fun"Do not take life too seriously – you will never get out of it alive." – Elbert Hubbard

"Life is truly a ride. We're all strapped in and no one can stop it…. I think that the most you can hope for at the end of life is that your hair's messed, you're out of breath, and you didn't throw up." – Jerry Seinfeld

"Humanity has advanced, when it has advanced, not because it has been sober, responsible, and cautious, but because it has been playful, rebellious, and immature." – Tom Robbins, Still Life With Woodpecker

"Don't be afraid your life will end; be afraid that it will never begin." – Grace Hansen

Remember the People Who Are Important to You

"There is only one happiness in this life, to love and be loved." – George Sand

"When you grow up, you have to give yourself away. Sometimes you give your life all in a moment, but mostly you have to give yourself away laboring one minute at a time." – Gaborn Val Orden"I was fourteen years old the night my daddy died. He had holes in his shoes and a vision that he was able to convey to me even lying in an ambulance, dying, that I as a black girl could do and be anything, that race and gender are shadows, and that character, determination, attitude are the substances of life." – Marian Wright Edelman

Today Is The First Day of The Rest of Your Life"Life is a journey, and with every step we reach a point of no return." – Gaborn Val Orden

"Many adventures await you upon the road of life. Enter these doors, and take your first step…" – from a placard above The Horn and Hound Pub

Roy H. Williams

"What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset." - Crowfoot, (1811-1890) a Native American warrior of the Blackfoot tribe.

A NIGHT FOR NOSTALGIA

The Home stands at Lawrence Central's Bruce Field

With Mark Herrmann in the pre-game.

Click to listen to audio

LAWRENCE – Maybe its me, probably is, but Lawrence Central’s Bruce Field doesn’t seem as big as it did some 25 years ago.

Friday night I went back to where all began - My sojourn into sports media. An event so much bigger than life, that it caused me to alter it. The 1981 IHSAA Class 1A state Championships.

I was an old man 13 years that frigid November night in 1981. Over there on the western sidelines, just to the right, no just about there, I sat huddled under plastic against the negative wind-chills, layered in winter clothing.

That night, my high school, Woodlan battled Hamilton Southeastern for the Class 1A title. The Warriors and Royals, an up and coming Indianapolis suburb against rural eastern Allen County that John Mellencamp may have been thinking of when he wrote his ballad“Small Town”

You see Woodlan was the type school that might have inspired John Mellencamp’s ballad “Small Town”. And to the Warriors they didn’t know they weren’t supposed to be good enough to be there. Mixing it all together a coach, Leland Etzler, who was a one-part common sense philosopher and one part football genius who just mixed the ingredients together to as Woodlan weaved together improbable wins over Tippecanoe Valley, Adams Central and North Judson.

It continued for a while, Barry Ehle, who’s now coaching at Woodlan, returned a punt for a touchdown.

There was the questionable placement of a intercepted pass in the endzone. Something about bringing the ball out of the endzone. The old timers still talk about it sometimes.

After battling for more than 44 minutes, normally accurate kicker, Matt Hirsch lined up and then in a moment frozen in time, the kick faded to the right. The kick would have gave Woodlan a 9-7 lead. It never happened. Woodlan lost 7-6 to Hamilton Southeastern.

NO, The game didn’t turn out like we thought it was going to be.

What did turn out, a young man, that was me come face to face with how sports can change your attitude, can give you a passion and give you a mission.

There was something magical. A special something that grabbed the attention of a community and a young man… Two weeks in November that exposed me and others like me to something bigger than I could ever dream.

An interesting note, during the broadcast I was teamed up with Mark Herrmann, the Carmel, Purdue and NFL quarterback. Then later Mark and I visited with Don Fisher, the now legendary voice of Indiana University sports. Both childhood heros of mine.

What a night, what a dream and what a great thing that sports can do to a man and his life.

Brotherly Love

Family Feud - Manning brothers do battle in Sunday night football



Manning vs. Manning Peyton faces Eli at Giants Stadium. I know exactly what they are feeling. Well, at least I think I do. There is nothing like playing -- and beating your brothers. Dale and Duane are six and seven years older than me. Great at about every sport they try. At least able to make their presence known. I made it known too, but in a bad way. I couldn't stop a ball from rolling up hill. Nonetheless I'd still battle against them in everything from cards to football, baseball, basketball or whatever. And I'd always lose. ALWAYS. Even with the handicaps they'd attach. I couldn't touch them. I was big enough in grade school to big able to play with my brothers and their high school friends. They'd pass the ball my way. But I wasn't an impact player. I knew it. That was until about 1997 or 1998, I was all of 28 or 29 and I was bound and determined to make this my finest hour. It was church softball, Northpoint vs. North Scipio. Dean vs. Dale and Duane. I wasn't gonna let ANYTHING, and i mean ANYTHING stop me from years and years of frustration. I just had this discussion with my friend Joe, he was an outfield on those Northpoint teams. (Like anything I do a queer mix of competition and sillyness. We were like the Globetrotters of softball.) Joe said I turned it up a notch. I'd push for the extra base. I'd hustle just a little more and my eyes burnt with more fury then before. Well, i dont remember much about the game. I remember winning. I remember drilling a grounder past Duane, a pretty sure handed shortstop for a single maybe even a double. I dont remember the score. I do remember the relief of finally doing it. Not bad for little brother

Football Night in America- my thoughts

Here you go NBC. Here's your chance to get back in the frey. After losing the NFL a few seasons ago, NBC has a lot to prove, It looks like that are well on their way. Here's what i liked about the first broadcast of Football Night in American and Monday Night Football.
The website is one of the most impressive I've seen. A perfect melding of audio, video, graphics and information complimenting a very aggressive production. Check it out for yourself at www.snfonnbc.com. You really need to get on and check it out, check back frequently.
Be sure you check out www.nbcsports.com too, a great source for NFL information including video pods.

What I like
Bob Costas - simply one of the best ever. He's always on his game and even a bad day is amazing.
Sterling Sharp - very good, understated. Very knowledgable and comes off well.
Al Michaels - like Bob Costas one of the best. There isn't much to say that hasn't already been said.
John Madden - some like him some don't. I think he's great. He loves the game, he's into the game, he's real and he's not bigger than the game. But could easily be.

Great graphics, the overall production was very impressive.

What I don't
Cris Collinsworth - I grew up a Cincinnati Bengals fan. I thought Collinsworth was pretty affable. Now I think he's trying to be clown of the group. His insights are limited, his quips sophomoric and as a former player with a lot so say he fails. Its as if he is trying to be the Terry Bradshaw of this group.

Pink - what a weak intro. Great voice. The song is crap

The name: Football Night in America. C'mon. Clearly a rip of from Hockey Night in Canada. Which its not. It's Sunday night, and its not even close to Monday Night Football and the hype that surrounded it. At least yet.
Not sure:
Jerome Bettis - didn't see enough to make a comment

DEAN JACKSON, TV SPORTSCASTER - Coming to a TV near you

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2 - BROADCAST UPDATE - Well! I survived my first television broadcast. I gotta admit it was a lot of fun and lot more fun then I ever dreamed. After more than a dozen years in radio, it finally happened. Hidden earpieces, directors talking in ear, instant replays, last second production audibles, lots of filling, lots of thinking on my fee, my mug on camera, a couple re-takes, lots of hurry up and wait. I can't wait for my next assignment. Friends who watched were impressed, the crew seemed surprised I'd never done tv.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 31 - FRANKFORT, Ind-

Frankfort vs. Crawfordsville, Indiana High School football.

About this time tomorrow night I'll be wrapping up my first true television sports broadcast. Not bad for a guy just about three weeks ago had shaved his head on a whim. We'll its grown back and it should look okay. Give me a couple days and I could be challenging Sampson. It's really funny. I had no tape, and I never sent them a resume. I think I simply emailed. Well, should be fun. Have checked in with everyone from the executive produce to the director, to my color commentator, well both of them, one backed out Tuesday. Right now - one eye is on the tv, one eye is on the game notes and research that i've been studying all week.

The Mouse

Here's a sappy story about our inter-connectedness with our friends and the network of people around us. I got this from an email, hopefully it will mean something to you.

Mouse Story

Mouse Story

A mouse looked through the crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife open a package.

"What food might this contain?" The mouse wondered - he was devastated to discover it was a mousetrap.

Retreating to the farmyard, the mouse proclaimed the warning. "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!"

The chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and said, "Mr. Mouse, I can tell this is a grave concern to you but it is of no consequence to me. I cannot be bothered by it."

The mouse turned to the pig and told him, "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!"

The pig sympathized, but said, "I am so very sorry, Mr. Mouse, but there is nothing I can do about it but pray. Be assured you are in my prayers."
The mouse turned to the cow and said, "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!"
The cow said, "Wow, Mr. Mouse. I'm sorry for you, but it's no skin off my nose."
So, the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer's mousetrap-- alone.
That very night a sound was heard throughout the house -- like the sound of a mousetrap catching its prey.
The farmer's wife rushed to see what was caught. In the darkness, she did not see it was a venomous snake whose tail the trap had caught.
The snake bit the farmer's wife.

The farmer rushed her to the hospital and she returned home with a fever.

Everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his hatchet to the farmyard for the soup's main ingredient.
But his wife's sickness continued, so friends and neighbors came to sit with her around the clock.

To feed them, the farmer butchered the pig.
The farmer's wife did not get well; she died.

So many people came for her funeral, the farmer had the cow slaughtered to provide enough meat for all of them.
The mouse looked upon it all from his crack in the wall with great sadness.
So, the next time you hear someone is facing a problem and think it doesn't concern you, remember -- when one of us is threatened, we are all at risk.

We are all involved in this journey called life.

We must keep an eye out for one another and make an extra effort to encourage one another.

REMEMBER: EACH OF US IS A VITAL THREAD IN ANOTHER PERSON'S TAPESTRY; OUR LIVES ARE WOVEN TOGETHER FOR A REASON. One of the best things to hold onto in this world is a friend.

GOODBYE SUMMER - repost

I originally posted this in 2006, just as true now as ever.

I am so not ready for high school football. I love the game. Football truly is the greatest thing to happen to the fall since the hayride. I just hate the first week of the season. It’s the mad dash to get everything finished. The commercials, the audio, everything. It’s like tax season for the tax evader. Okay maybe.

I think I know why it just bugs me. Every August 13, I am hit with a sobering fact. I am not 22 and this cocky, brash, goofy college student matriculating in Huntington County.. I am a brash, goofy, flippant, sometimes ingenious sportscaster. It’s the idea that my misspent youth is slipping further into the cobwebs of my mind. It is pretty dusty there.

August is the last gasp of summer defending its turf. Pack up the shorts and the lemonade, soon it will be hot chocolate and long johns. Can Geritol and Metamucil be that far behind. Speaking of behind, there’s that visit to the doctor in a few years for that one check up… Oh boy. Don’t remind me.

But, there is something great about football in the fall. It’s reminder that you can not only endure the cold and bitter, you can thrive on it. You can dig deep and wrap your arms around it and you can let it define you. It does define you it grabs you. It says with the help of my friends I can get through. It says I am not in it alone… with a little bit of work even the high-tech game of football is simple and understandable in the context of all its parts.

And those parts are like life. You have to have every one of them, you have to have each one in combination together or you’ll get crushed. You’ll lose out. My friend, look at your life, look at its component parts. Are you neglecting anything? Think about it and really answer what am I missing. What can I do to really re-tool and reinvest myself for the rest of my life?

There was a motto from the football coach at my high school, we’ll actually too. The opportunistic Woodlan Warriors operated under the rallying cry of “Make it Happen.” You had to take responsibility. You had to define the moment. You had to make life your own. And there was another saying that coach would say. “Don’t count the days, make the days count. Pretty simple. Fill your moments with hard work and effort and get after it.

So, bring on football. Bring on the fall. I don’t have to love it, but I can enjoy it.

...just did it

I did it. After a few days of pretty serious consideration, I trimmed it ALL off. I just wanted to do something different. I wanted to just do something for me. Something crazy, but not really out of line… I shaved my head. Yes, I literally did. Within minutes the clippers did the trick and move over Vin Diesel. I don’t know why so much, but other than I had to. I was compelled to. No, not to impress anyone, not some personal statement to voice, I just had to. I can’t explain it. So I did, I love it. Might never have hair again. Risky, nah, there’s always a ball cap. It will always grow back

By the way, I just want everyone to know that with Jim Shovlin, Bobby Petras and myself, we'll be the first all shaven head broadcast team in Fort Wayne sports history. Funny thing is, wasn't planned.

The Day Football died

HAMILTON, Ind., — Friday was a big day in the history of Hamilton High School. You wouldn’t know it.

August 11, 1986. The day football died in Hamilton. Two decades have passed since the Friday night lights of the football stadium ripped through the Steuben County sky.

One man still remembers.

John Dutton was a thirty-something young man when he got the news. It still feels like a punch to the gut every August. A program he was committed to didn’t have the same dedication from the people who we entrust our children’s education to.

Just days before the season was to start, a group of so-and-sos pulled the plug.

John didn’t put me up to this story. Those of you who know John know that’s not his style. He’s not one to desire controversy or ruffle feathers.

This is all my opinion. Be upset at me.

Though I can’t confirm it, I have been told that the program always paid for itself. Critics say there weren’t enough kids in the school who really wanted to play. But there were enough to field a team.

Funny, you know, that the lessons we teach aren’t really followed. We teach young people that sports build character. That it’s not how you win or lose, but how you play the game. That in the process of playing, something happens to you that makes you bigger and better.

But 20 years ago, a school board told about two dozen kids it wasn’t even worth trying anymore. Football wasn’t important enough to fight for. That there was a price tag connected to the high school experience and the school wasn’t going to pay it. It simply didn’t make sense.

Maybe they were lulled into the great insurance liability thinking. Whatever it was, Hamilton will never be the same.

When practically every other public school within 50 miles of Hamilton are playing pigskin, Hamilton kids went to movies, parties, shopping or just stayed home. Lots of educational opportunities in that, don’t you think?

John’s moved on. He’s not bitter. He’s got his football fix, either as a coach or broadcasting at any number of outlets around northeast Indiana. Or if he’s lucky, he’ll take a trip to see his Buckeyes in Columbus, Ohio.

But he still misses it. Like an old love, you never forget those memories, the anniversaries, the songs. The way you were.

I wonder if Hamilton misses it. I wonder if anyone just stops and dares to ask, or if the soldiers of September and October just don’t share their hurt and their memories.

Making friends with a rock

Sioux Falls, SD - I was just going out for a walk. A little distraction while waiting for a ride to the airport. If you do any type of exercise you need to go 30 or 40 minutes to get any benefit. I didn't really have a course, I just set out on foot and went to it. After about 20 minutes of treking across the parking lot and over to the mall I found them. Two rocks.

I kicked the black one away, (kinda symbolic of a situation I was dealing with. I wantetd to just get right of it for a while. It hurt. It wasn't something I was prepared to deal with.) I kept marching kicking the rock a little more, then finally i just let the stone fly. It felt good. It was like saying so long problems because I was walking away. About 10 minutes later I backtracked on the same route. I went over and looked at the rock, picked it up. Of course as you remember it had a white color to it and the gold on the sides. I put it in my pocket. Then I walked over to the other rock, you remember the black one. What happened next stunned me. The black rock was situated next to a little pebble, very close to the pebble. The pebble had its own unique texture and look, but it was the black stone that made me stop. I picked it up. I saw little specks of white on the black rock. Like they were woven into it.

Still curious, I pulled the white rock out of my pocket. I rubbed the black and white stone together. Wouldn't you know. Those same whitish marks came from the rubbing of the white and golden stone on the black rock. I kept rubbing more and more of the dark scuffed away. But something also happened to the lighter rock. It became smoother. The parts that rubbed off on the black rock were smoothed off. The Black rock also had its smooth parts.

I almost cried. I realized this was an object lesson about a friendship with a person who was struggling. A person who needed a friend, a confidant and I needed to be involved with them. That I couldn't check out or quit.

Here's the moral of the story. Our friends need us in their trials and struggles and when we get involved we leave a mark on them and we make their paths smoother. But, the other point, we need them. We need to help and be invested in helping in the lives of our friends. Its in the tough times, the rubbing of adversity that you connect in the lifes of others...and in the the connecting you are molded and your life is smoothed out as well.

Know your limits. Know what is safe for you. But, don't run from your friends in times of need. Stand your ground on what you know is right, but don't withhold yourself from your friends.

I can't wait to tell this story.

Football time

For those of us who’s world revolves around football, this is the greatest time of the year. It’s just like those days that build up to Christmas or a birthday or a vacation.

The term “two-day” conjures up all type of mystical things. When young men are honed over coals of the August sun and shaped into one team. It’s an object lesson where the sweat and tears of pain and exhaustion symbolize the weakness that is escaping the body.

It’s a man and whistle screaming out orders, as if he were building soliders, not just student-athletes who are playing for fun.

It’s this type of environment that has many a young men comparing military service to playing football. It’s this type of thinking that had General Douglas MacArthur,saying “On the field of friendly strife are sown the seeds that on other days and other fields will bear the fruits of victory.”

No other sport is so connected to the entire the team. No other sport is connected to hard work and being physical. No other sport its about the mental game. No other sport can you have finesse and power and strategy all wrapped up in one.

That’s why we love football so much. That’s why we have guys living the dream in semi-pro football leagues into their forties. That’s why we watch indoor and Arena football. There are now nearly 100 teams across that play inside of arena. Its why we have about two dozen bowl games, its why the NFL draft weekend is a party. We love football.

And that’s why, I am ready for some football.

TOUR DE FARCE

We did it again. Well, I mean an American did it, again. Floyd Landis made it happen and for the eighth straight year, an American is the toast of Paris. Not bad for a guy who everyone counted out just a few days before. Media said he lacked heart, lacked style. He doesn’t lack the Yellow shirt now.

My only point is this. Once Lance won it and stepped away, by and large, American’s stopped caring. I know I did.

In fact, I am not sure I even cared when Armstrong was building his dynasty. I know one thing; he put the sport on the front pages. This year I really didn’t know until it was over.

Congrats on the win, but know one really cares. Now where can I find those America’s Cup results? (When’s the last time you heard anything about Yachting greatest event. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ same here.)

Back to the grind stone.

Sorry for the delay in any new information. It's been a very busy month of July with major projects for Playmaker Productions every weekend. I promise I'll have some new things posted this week. Thanks for the e-mails and the notes of encouragement. Unfortunately none have included donations. (Just kidding.) From Terre Haute, Indiana to Port Huron, Michigan to
Sioux Falls, South Dakota and back, its been a crazy time of travel for high school all-star games to indoor football and more.

Remembering Randy Walker

For seven seasons Randy Walker had been quietly establishing Northwestern University football into a solid and consistent program in the Big Ten.
(photo courtesy Northwestern University Sports Information)

An apparent heart-attack ripped his life and season number eight away Thursday night.

At 52-years old, he leaves behind his wife, two children, three bowl appearances at Northwestern and thousands of lives touched as a coach and friend.

As I reflect on the sad and sudden news, I can't help but be reminded by the simple truth. We all will have the same destiny. We all will lose our lives. Some of us choose to live life, some choose to endure it, some don't even have a clue.

I don't know if Randy was prepared for his death, I suspect he was. Coaches are the types who prepare for everything. I stop and wonder about my own immortality. I wonder about the goals I've reached, the lives I've impacted. It's pretty scary. I am not sure I like the few answers I find.

I do know this. We have a choice to give or keep. We have a choice to be couragous or frightened. To protect ourselves, or to pour ourselves into things that make others better, that change lives and change the world.

Some say Randy Walker lost his life. I say no, he gave his life. So he never lost it, he invested it in something bigger then himself.

Recently a unheralded movie hit the big screen - End of the Spear. It's the story of Christian missionaries who literally gave their life to invest in men, women and children of a brutal native tribe in the jungles of the Amazon in Ecuador. One of the men who was killed, Jim Elliott penned a quote years before:

"He is no fool that gives up what he can not keep,

to gain what he can never lose."

Randy Walker literally gave up his heart and life for the game of football and for the men who played it.
Read more about Randy Walker

Off the Ice

Here's a story of my friends Guy and Nicole Dupuis and their miracle baby from the Fort Wayne News-Sentinel.


Cherishing the gift
Prayer sustained Komets defenseman and his wife in an off-ice challenge
By Blake Sebring bsebring@news-sentinel.com
Guy and Nicole Dupuis believe sometimes God reaches down to tap them on the shoulder. Sometimes it’s to remind them of something. Other times it’s to get their attention, and once in a while it’s just to let them know God is there.
They’ve had quite a few taps lately, and luckily, they’ve known exactly what each one meant. The Komets defenseman and his wife used their faith to provide stability and strength during a very trying challenge late in the season.
When Nicole was six months pregnant with their third child, she started carrying extra amniotic fluid and having pre-term labor problems. On Feb. 7 the doctor reported several troubling areas in the ultra-sound test and wanted the couple to see another doctor.
The second doctor agreed the child had several abnormalities and was 70 percent sure the baby had Trisomy 18 which affects 1 of every 3,000 births; or Trisomy 13, which occurs in 1 of every 5,000 births. In either case, life-sustaining measures are not recommended before birth. They were told the baby likely would not live to be born, or would not live for very long thereafter.
“The baby was in a breech position and the doctor explained that a normal delivery would result in his death,” Nicole said. “The doctor said he wouldn’t recommend a cesarean section because the baby would likely die at or shortly after birth.”
Further tests were ordered.
“He tells us there’s a 70 percent chance that the baby is not going to survive a few days, a week or two months and a 30 percent chance he might make it two or three years,” Guy said. “He did not think this was a child with Down syndrome.”
Devastated, Guy and Nicole went home to begin mourning the death of their son, to pray and prepare their children Brooke, 9, and Mitchell, 7. The four decided to name the baby Matthew, meaning “Gift of the Lord.” Their priest, Father John Kuzmich at St. Vincent’s Catholic Church, met with them to pray.
After Guy and Nicole told a few family members and friends, a prayer chain started that grew to include hundreds and then thousands of people. A call from a friend in Bakersfield, Calif., where Guy had played in 2002-03, said there were more than 600 people praying for them.
“What was comforting for us and helped us through was taking the attitude that life is a gift and if God gives us an opportunity to have Matthew for a few hours, weeks or months, we were going to cherish that gift,” Guy said. “That helped us to be positive and more optimistic. It was out of our control and in his, and that helped us.We’re his parents and if something happens and we don’t get to meet him here, then we’ll get to be his parents one day in heaven.”
When Nicole experienced signs of preterm labor, she called her doctor and told him she wanted something to stop the labor at least until further tests came back.
“I just couldn’t live with thinking that delivering this child was going to kill him since he was breech,” she said.
Four days later, the report came back saying the original diagnosis was wrong. The problem was Trisomy 21, or Down syndrome. The doctor was baffled and asked how aggressively Nicole wanted to be treated.
“Whatever I have to do, I’ll do to keep the baby in there,” she said.
Meanwhile the family continued to pray, as did thousands in expanding prayer chains. Nicole would lie in bed each morning praying over the baby. Some people congratulated them on having a Down syndrome baby.
“People we would talk to were like, ‘I’m sorry and I hope this doesn’t offend you, congratulations,’” Nicole said.
“Whoever gets congratulated that their kid has Down syndrome? For me that was great. I wonder if it happened that way so that we’d be excited for Matthew to come into our family.”
There were other moments when they felt God’s tapping. Guy had left Fort Wayne and the Komets in 1999, but came back this year when his family needed to be at home with Nicole’s parents, friends and their church. Nicole’s parents live next to family friends Jenny and Joe Bockerstette — who have a daughter Amy with Down syndrome and co-founded the Down Syndrome Association of Northeast Indiana.
“We already had a group of people in place to both educate and support us,” Nicole said.
When Nicole was 28 weeks into her pregnancy, because of the extra amniotic fluid she measured as if she was 38 weeks along. The doctor checked her weekly to see if she needed some fluid drained. The procedure carries a chance of infection or miscarriage so she dealt with the discomfort.
“We kept asking people for prayers and they kept asking other people,” Nicole said. “I got a card from a lady I don’t know who had a child with Trisomy 18 that died a couple of months after birth. She just wanted to let me know that she and her husband were praying for Matthew. I was so touched that they knew his name let alone were praying for us every night.”
“Honestly, the way that our friends and family prayed for us and asked others for prayers was amazing. We certainly didn’t feel alone going through this.”
During this entire time, Guy continued to go to practice and play defense for the Komets. He missed one practice and one road game. His teammates supported him and a couple said they were praying for him.
When he was at the games, he gave his cell phone to Komets trainer Shawn Dundon in case Nicole called in an emergency, because she was still experiencing signs of preterm labor. A couple times he was within a few seconds of going onto the ice when he’d call Nicole to see if he should play or not.
“It affected me emotionally somewhat,” Guy said. “…You have your normal mind-set before you go to the game, but I’d be home being wrapped up in all of this. It was difficult, but it also gave me a little time to focus just on hockey and have a release. I wasn’t able to do that every game. It takes a toll on you.”
After playing exceptionally well in February, his statistics slipped down the stretch, but he was still named the Komets’ best defenseman. The Komets ended their regular season April 15.
The next day — on Easter —Matthew was born.
“We both burst into tears because he was six weeks early,” Nicole said. “We knew that with Down syndrome he could have a lot of complications anyway, but coming this early we knew he could be in a lot of trouble.”
It was determined an emergency cesarean section was necessary, and Matthew was born 18 inches long and weighing 5 pounds, 14 ounces.
While Matthew stayed in intensive care for 12 days, his father would go to practice and then sleep at the hospital. He left with the Komets on Thursday for the playoff series against Rockford. The Komets were defeated in five games.
Finally, Matthew got to go home, where Guy’s mother had arrived from Canada to pitch in along with Nicole’s parents. The family kept asking for more prayers.
“I honestly believe it’s the prayers that have made him as healthy as he is,” she said. “He’s real strong. He has already rolled over at six weeks. From here we just love him and take care of him like we do our other kids.”
Several weeks later, as Nicole holds Matthew in her lap to feed him, a heart monitor’s lights flash from the floor. Everywhere Matthew goes the monitor gets picked up and goes with him. He’s been quarantined for a few weeks to protect him from infections, but has consistently gained weight.
As a friend of the Dupuis’ said, if ever there was a perfect family for such a baby to be born into, this is it. God has given him to a family that can handle the problems.
“Let’s see what the future holds for him,” Guy said. “Right now we are focusing on the blessing that he is in our lives. He really is a gift from God.”
As he sleeps in his mother’s lap, Matthew has no idea he has already affected thousands of people.
“He’s been pretty blessed and he doesn’t even know it,” Nicole said. “We don’t feel like God is done working miracles with him.”