Quality Controlled

Expanding boundaries, both professionally and personally, is a mission statement of sorts in the world of sports + thoughts, dear readers. Influencing a little change of thought on your end of the computer screen isn't necessarily a bad thing either, but it's certainly not one of my missions.

It should be one of yours, though.

Love it or fight it, y'all, change is quite the subjective necessary evil. Like farting when you really have to shit. (That goes for you too ladies because, well, despite rumors to the contrary, we all know you "toot" and "poop" on occasion.)

Today's lesson involves an old saying that goes something like, "Don't ever mistake my silence for ignorance, my calmness for acceptance or my kindness for weakness." The quote is attributed to tons of sources and is more-or-less self explanatory but I think the words are required reading.

Maybe even on a daily basis.

The risk, of course, is when we "give in" to urges in any of those situations we tend to make everything about one thing and one thing only: self satisfaction. It's easy to argue with others if you think you're right. (Which everyone does, of course.) It's easy to get angry when someone crosses you. It's easy to walk away when you feel you've been hurt or wronged. And I, for one, am tired of all this selfish "me, me, me" nonsense dominating the world these days. Shit, selfishness is so socially acceptable its turned into big business.

Just ask the matriarch of the Kardashian klan if you don't believe me.

Only the strongest of us can be silent when we have a lot to say, calm when want to release emotion or kind when we're justified in a little malevolence. Sure, if you make this mantra an ingredient in your daily interactions others may be confused by your behavior but you won't be and, more importantly, you'll find solace in the fact that trying to live that way, more often that not, results in doing the right thing.

Which should definitely be done on a daily basis.

Fan Mail

This is big, dear readers. Real big. Like post-on-facebook-as-a-milestone-and-not-just-an-ordinary-status-update big.

I've received my first fan written love letter. Sure, it can't compete with Twilight fan fiction or anything, but what can? Besides, we need to walk before we run in the fandom world of sports + thoughts.

Of course this "letter" came in email form because, seriously, who actually writes love letters using paper and sharpies anymore?

Certainly not this guy.

Regardless of the medium used to create it, what the letter says deserves focus because it tells me all the effort is paying off. Paying off big time, actually. My passion for writing is beginning to resonate with my readers and I'm gaining much desired traction.

But enough about my excitement, let me share the "letter" with you.

Dear,

A huge dick in my pussy, a warm wet tounge up our arse and cum along with pussy juice all over me. Visit my web page: hcg injections

Fuck,
Ozzy

Incredible, right? 

I know.

I'm speechless, too.

Question Able

"How can you like sports so much?"

It's a question us sports fans have to field on a regular basis from those non-fans in our lives and it can come in many forms.

"How can you invest so much time on these silly games?"

Attempting to effectively articulate the attraction sport can have to a non-fan and how sometimes it can be the greatest investment one can make is, even for the well-spoken, difficult at times.

That is, until yesterday. 

ESPN's 30 for 30 documentary Survive and Advance, which aired last night, details the miracle run of the 1983 NCAA Champion NC State team, their charismatic coach Jimmy Valvano and provides the perfect answer to those questions.

Regardless of what form they come in.

Woven in-and-out of their improbable 1983 collection of victories is the story of Coach Valvano's battle with cancer 10 years later and how, before succumbing to it, he partnered with ESPN to form The V Foundation, creating a legacy and becoming the face of cancer research fundraising in the sports world.

Listen, I'm not saying all you non-fans need to start watching sports. I understand not every sport is for everybody.

Duh. But what is for everyone are the feelings all these "silly" games can evoke.

So I would like to challenge everyone -- fans, non-fans, whoever -- to watch the documentary and, after spending 2 hours learning the story, if you can't fully understand the inherent eliciting power of sport then, well, i only have one question for all of you:

"How can you NOT invest so much in these 'silly' games?"

Throwback Thinking: Ralph J. Holden Tribute

(EDITOR'S NOTE: Blog was originally posted on March 31, 2009. And, while the author would love to rework it, he feels the message conveyed trumps his then amateur syntax.)

A small man -- in a smaller city -- making a big impact.

Very few people outside Rhode Island are aware that Central Falls even exists. Covering one square mile, Central Falls is the smallest city in the smallest state in the Union. Affectionately referred to as "CF", it's so small that you can drive through the city down Broad St. in approximately 3 minutes! (It may take you a whopping 5 minutes if you catch a few lights.)

Being such a small city does have it's advantages. When you're small you can keep things simple. You're not clouded by infinite choices. You can focus on one thing and try and do it extremely well. For example, Central Falls is home to an iconic Rhode Island establishment: Stanley's Hamburgers.

Best. Hamburgers. Ever.

But, in a place where focus is critical to success, the opportunities that benefit from said focus are limited. And, in CF, positive opportunities are nearly non-existent. Central Falls became a prime hub for cocaine trafficking throughout the 80's and 90's which earned it the unenviable nickname "Sparkle City."

Don't believe it? Just ask Providence's notorious ex-mayor: Buddy Cianci. Buddy was so cavalier that his private car was commonly found on the streets of CF during his political career with him in the backseat.

Central Falls: the embodiment of a double-edged sword.

Growing up in Central Falls provided very few options to spend your free time if you were trying to avoid the cocaine trade. You really only had 2 choices: Academics or Athletics. Both helped you punch a ticket to "get out" and one was usually a means to get closer to the other.

I started this blog by saying "Very few people outside Rhode Island are aware that Central Falls even exists." Well, even fewer are aware of the importance that youth sports had in the city. And if you were involved in youth athletics around CF in the early 80's and 90's there was one man who you knew, respected and, in most cases, loved like a father: Ralph Holden.

Ralph was a Central Falls native stricken with Polio during the height of it's epidemic in the 1950's. While he never lost the use of his limbs, Ralph's physical development was limited resulting in a hunchback physique preventing him from ever playing organized sports.

But his love for sports could not be broken by a crooked back. Ralph wanted sports to be part of his life -- and he did all he could to ensure that they would be. He focused on school and eventually earned a degree in Physical Education. He finally worked his way to become the Athletic Director of the Central Falls Community Center.

And that is where Ralph's legacy was born.

It was called the "Club." Every teenager growing up in CF during the 80's and 90's considered the Club their home away from home. The kids were the bricks. Ralph was the mortar.

Ralph never used his physical deficiencies as an excuse. Obstacles were a daily part of Ralph's life. But overcoming each made his victories that much sweeter. For example, simple things like driving were difficult -- but not impossible.

Ralph had a mechanic fabricate longer gas and brake pedals so he could reach them. His steering wheel had a circular handle attached to it so he could turn the wheel with one hand. Ralph would sit on a few pillows so his hunch arm could lean out the window while he would turn the wheel with his good hand. It could be 15 degrees out and snowing but Ralph's midnight-blue Oldsmobile would have the driver side window open and the heat on full blast.

Ralph Holden's perseverance in life translated to his coaching. He wouldn't allow us kids to fall into self pity. He taught us that growing up poor in Central Falls was an opportunity. It would help us learn to appreciate our victories more than our opponents did.

His coaching style was brash and his temper legendary. He didn't tolerate laziness or disrespectful behavior toward another player, coach or referee. And his love for us "kids" was palpable and enduring.

Even as we all grew up and moved up and out of Central Falls, you would still find Ralph standing in the corner of whatever gymnasium one of us "kids" happened to be playing in -- scribbling in his notepad prepping for a post game "review."

Ralph Holden passed away on March 12, 1998. The "Club" was renamed the Ralph J. Holden Community Center as a tribute to the man who served as the caretaker for the building and those who spent their free time playing sports in it.

Ralph was widely referred to as "Ralphie-Baby" by the legions of youngsters who viewed him more as a surrogate father than a coach. And, as we all know, a father's job is to keep his girl off the pole and his son off the streets -- Ralph did just that.

His daily struggles served as an example that your life is what you make of it. Where some see obstacles, others see opportunity. Ralph created a sense of family between his players that no other coach this former athlete has known could replicate. The same kids I grew up with in the 80's are still my best friends today. At full strength we're about 25 deep. Regardless of the sport, we were never a team -- we were always a family.

And we always will be.

Thanks, Ralphie-Baby.