Hello everyone, it's me, the artist formerly known as JB. I write today
as a conflicted lifetime football fan. My conflicts are many...growing
evidence of brain damage among former players is going to be an
epidemic that will have us all beating our chests for every time we
cheered a knockout hit. The economics of the game are outrageous. And,
of course, my team, the San Diego Chargers, are notorious chokers and
disappoint me to no end. My latest disgust with the NFL, however,
dovetails nicely with this blog, whose author was kind enough to offer
me a guest spot.
The NFL awards one player its "Man of the Year" award each season. This
year the award will be presented during the multi-billion dollar
spectacle known as the Super Bowl. The process is that each team
selects its own nominee, the league picks 3 finalists and during
halftime of the Superbowl the winner is announced. The prize money goes
like this- each player picks a charity, each team's nominee receives
$1000 for his charity, each finalist receives an additional $5000, and
the winner receives a check for $20,000 for the charity of his
choosing. $20,000 is a sizable donation for an organization to receive,
but is a pittance to the NFL. A $1000 check from the NFL is like one
of those dividends that comes in the mail from a stock you forgot you
own, made out in an amount less than the first class postage they put on
the envelope.
Every commercial break now seems to include at least one ad touting the
good that this or that corporation is doing. Of course they realize
that this makes consumers feel better about buying their products, and
I'm OK with that. At the same time, I hope they are spending at least
as much on the donation as they did to make their self-congratulatory
commercial. The NFL fails miserably here in that regard. StubHub
currently lists 4 Super Bowl tickets in the corner of the end zone for
$20,000. Every player on the LOSING team will receive a check for
$43,000. (I realize the NFL is not writing either of these checks, but
the amount of money being thrown around is beyond ridiculous) The
economics just don't make sense and for the NFL to try and buy some good
PR with this is an insult. They should just let us watch 3 extra
minutes of Madonna and the Foo Fighters.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Run in the Other Direction
I wanted to start the year off with a "long" run. For me, long is: to the park, one loop around, and back home. About 5 miles. That's JB's regular run. It is some people's short run. But this isn't a contest, and for me, that's still a long run.
There's a problem with the long run. A problem I call "the hill." Those of you who run or bike or skate in Prospect Par, Brooklyn know what I am talking about. I hate the hill. Hate it lots. Hate it so much that (at J's suggestion), I once ran up it, down it, and back up again in an attempt to shake my dread.
When I'm with someone, I whine my way up the hill. If I am feeling clever, I ask them a question that takes them the hill to answer and thus distracts me.
But on my long New Year's week run, I was alone. And so, inspired by a conversation the day before between JB and our zippy friend I'll call "Long Legs Steve", I ran in the other direction.
So simple. It's a loop. If you don't want to run up the hill, run the other way. Run DOWN the hill.
(It is true that whatever way you go, you still have to go up. But up the long way is very different than up the short, steep way).
My run in the other direction? It was fun. It was (almost) easy. I enjoyed running "against traffic" and looking at the people that I passed. People of all ages, sizes, and abilities exercise in the park. It's inspiring, and when you run towards them there is no competition about passing them, or them passing you.
The run in the other direction also surprised me. There were parts of the park that I didn't recognize. Things I felt like I had never seen before. A couple of times I looked around and wasn't completely sure where I was.
It's a true cliche about how doing something differently changes your perspective. In 2012, I'm going to try to run in the other direction often. (And up the hill sometimes). I encourage you to try it too. Walk instead of run. Sit on the other side of your desk. Stand on the train if you usually sit. Sit if you usually stand. Do something little to change the way you see the world, and admire how different it looks.
There's a problem with the long run. A problem I call "the hill." Those of you who run or bike or skate in Prospect Par, Brooklyn know what I am talking about. I hate the hill. Hate it lots. Hate it so much that (at J's suggestion), I once ran up it, down it, and back up again in an attempt to shake my dread.
When I'm with someone, I whine my way up the hill. If I am feeling clever, I ask them a question that takes them the hill to answer and thus distracts me.
But on my long New Year's week run, I was alone. And so, inspired by a conversation the day before between JB and our zippy friend I'll call "Long Legs Steve", I ran in the other direction.
So simple. It's a loop. If you don't want to run up the hill, run the other way. Run DOWN the hill.
(It is true that whatever way you go, you still have to go up. But up the long way is very different than up the short, steep way).
My run in the other direction? It was fun. It was (almost) easy. I enjoyed running "against traffic" and looking at the people that I passed. People of all ages, sizes, and abilities exercise in the park. It's inspiring, and when you run towards them there is no competition about passing them, or them passing you.
The run in the other direction also surprised me. There were parts of the park that I didn't recognize. Things I felt like I had never seen before. A couple of times I looked around and wasn't completely sure where I was.
It's a true cliche about how doing something differently changes your perspective. In 2012, I'm going to try to run in the other direction often. (And up the hill sometimes). I encourage you to try it too. Walk instead of run. Sit on the other side of your desk. Stand on the train if you usually sit. Sit if you usually stand. Do something little to change the way you see the world, and admire how different it looks.
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