Eat "Mor" (?) Chick'n

Whoa!  Look who’s taking a stand!  That bigot!  You’re a piece of trash, and I’m gonna kick you out on the curb just like Chick-Fil-A!  Suck a fat one!  Okay…do we have that out of your system now?  Good (and if you continue reading, it’s at your own peril, and please bother to indulge me if you’ve read that far).

There’s no doubt.  Dan Cathy’s comments about gay marriage had a lot of attention in the past week.  Mainly bad, and with good reason.  However, for those willing to consider a different point of view, read on.  For those that don’t, can I just issue the apology now and not have to hear about it later?  In case you were wondering…..Yes, I do enjoy the taste of puppy blood.  Yes, I do hate freedom.  And yes, I do support the “Free Bin Laden” campaign.  And if you believe in any of those things, please leave my blog now.

So Dan Cathy personally came out and finally said what should have been apparent.  He doesn’t support gay marriage.  In fact, he believes in marriage in the “biblical sense,” for whatever that’s worth.  I’m confused.  This is a company that has voluntarily been closed on Sundays since its inception for religious reasons.  It’s a company that vets its franchise applicants and denies them all the time for numerous reasons.  MBA students/graduates…please refrain from your criticism.  Chick-Fil-A does not give a darn (damn for those of you in the non-Chick-Fil-A-o-sphere) what you think.  They’re not looking to maximize profits.  Were they looking to do so, they may have listened to you by now.  It’s that simple.  If your argument against the company is that they’re not maximizing profits, then please stop reading.  They don’t care, and neither do I.

For those that dislike Dan Cathy’s comments for other reasons…read on.  Let’s get a few things out of the way before we go too far:

            (1) Yes, I am a liberal.

            (2) No, I do not personally agree with Mr. Cathy’s stance.

            (3) Yes, I am from the South and have grown up with Chick-Fil-A.

            (4) No, I do not find that relevant.

            (5) Yes, I am an Aquarius…thanks for asking.

Look, if you have decided you’ll never go to a Chick-Fil-A again because of his comments, then I’m not going to change your opinion.  I assume you have reasons for doing so.  However, I do find it shocking that people have gone so overboard over Mr. Cathy’s personal opinions unless they legitimately vet every single CEO of every single company they’ve ever given money to.  I’m guessing you haven’t….

If you have….my bad, you’re right.  I AM a moron for assuming that because I don’t bother to consider the personal views of every company CEO that I provide money to, that I am, in fact, an idiot.

Truthfully, I don’t care what the personal opinions of a company CEO are.  At least so long as it doesn’t affect their business model.  Now, if Chick-Fil-A stopped serving people who were homosexual, or they stopped serving couples that were homosexual, or they stopped serving in states where gay marriage was recognized…I might have a problem as well.  However, just because Dan Cathy personally comes out against gay marriage, doesn’t mean I need to stop going to his restaurant…..for me……personally.

This is America.  Mr. Cathy is free to say what he wants to say.  You’re free to do with your money what you want to do.  If those things no longer intersect, then fine.  Don’t’ expect him to lose sleep over it though.  His long ago formed opinion is not likely to waiver.  Nor is mine. 

Oh, and for those that want to compare it to Nike, get lost.  Nike’s policy of letting 8 year olds in China make their shoes is completely different from an old Southern Baptist CEO taking a personal opinion on a social matter that does not otherwise influence his business practices.

Oh yeah, and, were I to really dissect my group of friends, I’m sure I’d differ with some of their opinions on social issues as well.  Thankfully, I’m grounded enough, as are they, where we can overlook those differences together and actually achieve a positive friendship.  If you’re not in that same boat, then I ask you, why have you read this far??? 

Ideals are great, and far be it from me to choose for those that decide they’ll no longer go to Chick-Fil-A.  At the same time, I am not the devil for going there.  I am not supporting the devil.  I’m enjoying the same product I always have, at the same price, and guess what……anyone in favor of gay marriage will be able to too.  Should that change, let me know.  Otherwise, until you’re able to tell me the personal stance on every socially polarizing topic of every CEO of every company you buy a product from, please let me go in peace.

Kindly,

Moons (This is NO way represents the opinions of BH).

Roger "God"dell: Liiving Up to His Name

NOTE: Since much of the debate is raging on Roger Goodell's "god-like" complex, he is intentionally referred to as "GODdell" throughout this piece.

Since the NFL, and more directly Roger Goddell, handed down punishment on the New Orleans Saints for “Bounty Gate,” much has been written and said about the magnitude of the penalties. (ASIDE: I believe it was Jonathan Coachman on ESPN Radio who said it, but why exactly is every public fiasco called “______________ gate?” I get that its origin is Watergate. That was the name of a hotel, it was not a “gate” that involved some deplorable water conspiracy.) Anyways, I digress. Many have claimed that Mr. Goddell was heavy handed in his punishments, particularly with respect to Sean Payton. I can neither confirm nor deny this as I was not present when Goddell and Payton met and do not otherwise have first hand knowledge of the sweet caress of the Commish. It’s an issue worth exploring: Why exactly do people believe the punishment was too harsh? First though, let’s quickly consider Goddell’s reasons before moving onto the debate.

Reason One: Player Safety

Since Goddell took over, there’s no question that player safety has been a priority of his. The NFL is far and away the most popular professional sport in the United States. I know, I know. Most thought it was the WNBA, but that’s just an ESPN led P.R. stunt. Goddell’s not an idiot (is there a Wonderlic test that NFL execs could take to hash this out though?), and he understands that big name players drive the league. He’s made it quite apparent to all involved: Hurt my players, and I’ll hurt you. Players have been fined, suspended, publically chastised, and had their family pet turned over to Michael Vick’s care for violating this rule. A program put specifically in place to harm others was clearly not going to sit well with this guy.

Reason Two: The Player’s are suing! The Players are suing!

Another proferred ($10 word there) reason for Goddell’s penalties is to help cut off pending lawsuits by former players who are now suffering memory loss and other long-term effects of their time in the NFL. I think this reason is highly overstated. Or, is it? I can’t really remember. Ever since LT clocked me while on a cocaine induced rage, my memory’s been a bit fuzzy. I think he may have solicited me for sex too, but again, I don’t really remember. Former players are claiming that the NFL was negligent about player safety, failed to fully inform them, and failed to do enough upon retirement to assist them. Really?

Do you know what football….or boxing……or MMA…….or hockey……or badminton are outside the realm of organized sports? Felonies. Well, maybe not the last one. That depends on how you interpret the word “shuttle cock.” What exactly did the players need to be told? Did they need to more directly be told that engaging in organized fisticuffs with 6’5” 300 lb. men might be hazardous to their health? In related news, smoking’s bad for you. Oh yeah, but isn’t that just it? The tobacco industry got crushed for harming the public, so will the NFL. False.

Big tobacco got killed for lying to the American public systematically for years to sell more of their product. I’m pretty sure the NFL’s done the exact opposite. Hell, they used to market videos of the NFL’s “Biggest Hits.” ESPN Sunday Night Countdown used to have a segment called “Jacked Up!” I’m pretty sure that the NFL has never ignored or hidden the violence of their sport. In fact, for years they pretty much used violence as their primary marketing tool. Oh yeah, and in the meantime, those guys they marketed got paid a whole heck of a lot of money for being the heroes and the villains of such videos. I mean, if we were talking about those little dudes that used to play for virtually nothing without pads and with a leather helmet on, I might get the point. However, the NFL each step of the way has taken steps to improve player safety. These guys chose to get into this sport. They got paid well to do so. I’m sure the NFL will eventually settle, but I’m not convinced it’ll be for as much as people think, and I certainly don’t think Goddell’s mind was just on the money when he made this decision.

Reason Three: You lied to me? You’re dead to me.

This is at the heart of the reasoning for Goddell’s actions. We might consider Reason One to be the stomach, and Reason Two to be the appendix. The Saints were told to stop. They didn’t. In fact, they took steps to cover it up, blatantly lied, and defied “God”dell. Others who have similarly defied people named God have suffered similar fates. I’m looking at you heathens of Babylon. It was the underhanded, ongoing practice that increased the risk to players on the field that led to Goddell’s actions. Wait, that sounds familiar. Oh yeah, didn’t I mention just a little while ago that what got Big Tobacco into trouble was the lying? Hmmm……..they didn’t fair so well. The Saints didn’t either. It might be appropriate to restate Goddell’s philosophy as this: “Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, I’m gonna mess you the f--- up.”

So why exactly are people up in arms (I’d prefer to be packing something a little more substantial than arms) about “God”dell’s decision?

People’s Response #1: Other teams were doing it too!

Well, to that I say, if everyone else was jumping off a bridge, would you? Actually, yes, I think I would. I mean, if everyone else was jumping off a bridge, I’ve got to assume that the bridge was on fire, or that at bare minimum Tim Tebow had promised salvation to the faithful. So forget I said that. Instead, I’ll quote from the beloved movie A Christmas Story: “Adults loved to say things like that but kids knew better. We knew darn well it was always better not to get caught.”

Who ‘Dat putting bounties on the field? Da Saints! We know ‘dat. Dat’s da difference. I don’t care if other teams were doing it. They were at least doing it more discreetly. I’ll try not to use “’dat” again during this post, but no promises.

People’s Response #2: This type of punishment is unprecedented! It shocks the conscience that the Saints are the first team to lose their coach for an entire season!

Isn’t that the point of things that are “unprecedented” and “shock” us? As a general matter, it’s because they’re the first to occur. Now sure, sometimes we’re shocked when say movies like Home Alone 4 come out because they’re not the first to occur, but instead we’re stunned that it just won’t end, but that’s the exception rather than the rule.

Also, that’s the definition of “unprecedented.” It implies there’s nothing to look back to. If Goddell had given them a slap on the wrist (Wouldn’t that also be heavy handed? How else are you going to generate any power?), then people would just clamor the next time this happened that the Commish escalated punishment too severely. It’s a circular argument, and I prefer my arguments square because right angles are much more enticing.

Goddell did what he thought he had to to make his point. He prefers his points to be sharper than yours, and given the money involved, he’s got every right to do so.

People’s Response #3: But that’s just it! This one man has too much power!

Is it bad to consolidate power? Look at Russia under Stalin, Cuba under Castro. Power leads to stability. And I just got this blog flagged by the FBI. Okay, I’ll admit, power consolidation is certainly not a concept endorsed by American ideals. We like our democracies open, representative, and with a side of freedom fries. Give me freedom or give me death! Is that enough to get me off the FBI watch list? The thing is, when have we ever thought businesses needed to act as democracies? Sink or swim. Survival of the fittest. Less government involvement.

The NFL is a business first and foremost. Goddell is, for lack of a better term, the CEO. His job is to protect the product and integrity of the game, and you’re not always going to be popular to make that occur. There are few, if any, businesses where the employees have an opportunity to overrule the CEO on decisions. Why should this be different in the NFL? The players, coaches, and staff are all employees of the NFL at the end of the day (albeit very strong, athletic, and well compensated employees). If the NFL falters, then the owners will replace Goddell. It’s that simple. They are businessmen after all. I somehow doubt though that many owners who also pay their employees dump trucks filled of unmarked, non-sequential bills are all that offended that the Saints are being docked for intentionally and covertly attempting to slash the tires on all those dump trucks.

The point of all of this is agree or disagree, Goddell did what he believes is in the best interest of the NFL on the whole. He’s going to put a stop to bounty programs or escalate. It’s an archetypal war game that he’s banking on not being a game of tick-tack-toe, and only time will tell if it’ll work. So, let’s stop the scrutinizing of this decision, and move on to an enthralling game of chutes and ladders!

- Moons

There Goes My Hero. He's Ordinary.

"I may just boycott basketball totally this year."

The other half of JLD said this after Gonzaga smoked the Irish basketball team back at the end of November. In that same conversation, I said we looked no better than a 5-conference-win team. Heading into conference play, when people would ask me what I thought of the Fightin' Breys, I usually responded that the team played young, because they are. That meant that while we'd get some glimpses at the talent on the team, we'd still see a lot of bone-headed play typical of a young squad.

I'm glad I've been wrong so far.

Even though Brey has won a few Big East Coach of the Year awards and a National Coach of the Year award, there are still rumblings out on the internets about his shortcomings as a coach: his teams don't play defense; he's never made a deep NCAA tournament run; hell, he hardly wins any NCAA tournament games. I'm guilty of ragging on coach Brey as much as anyone. Right now, I don't care about any of that.

This season has been one of the most pleasant surprises a ND fan has had in years, regardless of the sport. Coach Brey's team grew up when thrown into the fire, and they are on the cusp of a winning conference record and a totally unexpected NCAA Tournament bid. They've beaten 5 ranked teams in-conference, including defeating the #1 team in the country at home, in a gym that many #1 teams have fallen to the Irish.

As much as I'm enjoying watching ND's basketball team play this year, they really just an excuse for me to tell a bigger, better ND basketball story. This story is about one of the titans in ND's athletic pantheon: Digger Phelps.*

Unless you are an athlete, all Notre Dame students must take PE class during the entirety of their freshmen year. Yes, ND students get credit for taking gym class. Anyway, after my failed attempt at walking on the golf team at ND, I, too, had to take PE. Naturally, when I saw golf was offered during my last rotation, I signed up. I was even able to help the teacher out with the knowledge I had of the game.

One day, as we were all gathering on the putting green near the Rock (Rockne Memorial gym), a car drove by and honked, and Coach O'Sullivan (our PE teacher) waved back. We all went back to shooting the bull. The next thing you know, a man walks around the corner of the gym, and O'Sullivan yells "Hey, Digger, come say hi to my class!" I'm pretty sure everyone standing around the green nearly shat themselves.

So there we were, in awe, as former ND basketball coach and absolute legend Digger Phelps walked over to our group. And before you knew it, there Digger was, holding court on the putting green. He talked to us all for a bit, and just as he was leaving, he wanted to give us a lesson. He grabbed someone's putter, and knocked a ball towards a hole about 30 feet away. I can no longer remember what he said next, but the gist of it was that he was going to make the next putt he hit (to the same hole) and then he was leaving. He hit the putt, and about halfway there we all knew it was in. The ball dropped, he raised his arms and we all went crazy. He simply said good luck with school and walked away. 

When I tell people this story, I usually use the phrase "larger than life" to describe Digger. It really describes his persona, at least based on that limited interaction some fellow students and I had one spring day. It also fits his TV persona that you can see every day during the college basketball season. When I think more about that day , though, Digger probably does random stuff like this all the time, everywhere he goes, and he probably leaves a group of people as speechless as we were that day. I know it's cliché, but some people have "it." Whatever the hell "it" is, Digger Phelps has it. And because of Digger, I have an experience I'll never tire of telling people.**

*The biggest ND homer is and always will be Lou Holtz. If I wasn't a Domer, I'm sure I'd hate Lou because of his unabashed homer-ism. However, I am a Domer, and I love Lou. Go ahead and hate me.

**Oddly enough, Digger wasn't (depending on your perspective) the biggest celeb that talked to one of my classes freshman year. Also that year, Regis Philbin was in town for the dedication (or possibly for the groundbreaking) of a new building being constructed on campus. While there, he poked his head into the big lecture hall I was in at the time. Our teacher chased him down and had him give us a few words. One of the random, cool things about ND is that there are always big-time people around the campus, and you never know where they'll turn up.

Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you.*

Right about now, my cousin Pat is on a plane heading to South Africa. He is fortunate enough to be embarking on one of the greatest experiences a college student can have: he is studying abroad.

Many of my friends and I, too, have shared this experience.** 

People who haven't studied abroad don't really understand what all the fuss is about. Frequently, those people hear bits and pieces of stories. They criticize that nobody actually ever goes to class, and all we do is party and take a few liberties with our party guests. Don't worry, we did. And, we did. But while class is certainly part of the experience, it's not the only part. 

During a normal home-bound semester, things get stale. You hang out with the same people, have very ritualistic social patterns, get bored. The beautiful thing about being abroad is that everything is so unknown and new. You always have something new to discover or a new friendship to create. It's all there for the people willing to look for it.

The group I studied abroad with was fortunate that a few of us early on met and became friends with the proprietor and staff of one the local drinking establishments. Through this, our group was able to get VIP treatment to an Aussie Rules football game. Sure, you could experience this with 2 of your classmates by yourselves, but 20 Domers teaching a handful of Aussies what makes a true tailgate in exchange for firsthand explanation of that crazy, wonderful game is something I'll never forget. 

Anyway Pat, I hope you experience everything you can while you are there. Go to class, but don't miss out on something you may never get the chance to do ever again. Take time to meet the locals and embrace the culture. Your life will be that much fuller when you come home. 

* I know this is a song lyric, but it's also the name of the blog started by one of my college roommates about his experience in the Peace Corps and ongoing developments in Madagascar. Check it out. He's a good writer and even better dude. cplanicka.blogspot.com

** If you couldn't gather from the rest of this, I studied abroad in Fremantle, Australia. I could never dream of writing something that would do that country justice, but if you want to read something about Oz that does, go get Bill Bryson's "In a Sunburned Country." It really is a great piece of travel writing. Australia is a fascinating, fun, beautiful country, and I think everyone should visit there at some point.

Quarterback Musings

Let me take you back in time to a familiar yet alternate universe. It’s the Spring of 2011, and the Notre Dame football squad is fully immersed in spring practices. Coming off a solid end of the year and bowl win over traditional power Miami, optimism is abound. Maybe, just maybe, Notre Dame is finally on the cusp of becoming a national power again….

Over on the sidelines, Brian Kelly contemplates the future of his program. The most important decision, the one the press is hounding him about, is who will go into next season as his quarterback. The sun’s in his eyes and he has to squint a little to survey the field and his options. Currently running with the first team is a guy who just looks like a professional quarterback. 6’4”, strong arm, commanding presence, and well liked, Dayne Crist takes the snap, scans the field, and then wings an out route in the direction of T.J. Jones. The ball looks majestic. Tight spiral, great zip, and then…..over Jones’ head by two feet. Kelly lets out a sigh. He thinks to himself “if I’d had this kid from day one, he might have been great. Injuries have derailed him, and now he can’t quite seem to get into the flow of things. I wish he hadn’t taken 5 seconds to find Jones on that out route. It was a simple look.”

Off to the side, tossing the ball around with a few of the guys and watching the first team for a few minutes is rising sophomore Tommy Rees. He doesn’t look like a college quarterback. He looks like Elijah Wood's taller and moderately more athletic brother. His ball has no natural zip to it. In order to get anything on it, Rees seems to coil his entire body and then unleash a knuckler that frequently misses the intended target. During running drills it’s pretty apparent that Rees couldn’t outrun the student manager who’s standing on the sideline. For a second time, Kelly lets out a sigh and thinks “he can’t run, he’s barely passable with his arm, but the kid gets it. He understands what I’m trying to do. Makes quick reads…though not always correct, and gets rid of the ball. I don’t love him, but at least he understands what I’m trying to do. And, he’s still young and developing.”

It’s already become clear that the battle for the quarterback position will be between these two. Crist, the senior leader versus Rees, the guy who “finds a way to win.” Kelly’s not enamored with either, but expectations are high. After a slow start, they’d found a way to finish 8-5. They have enough playmakers to wreak havoc even without stellar quarterback play, and the defense is coming along fast. If Michael Floyd straightens himself out, they could be great. Kelly looks down at a sheet of paper on his clipboard which lists the 2011 schedule: Most of these games should be wins. “We could go 11-1, 10-2 without much problem. Hell, Stanford’s the only team on here that scares me, and who knows what they’ll be like without Harbaugh around…”

Kelly blows a whistle, barks out a few instructions, and then the second team offense comes onto the field. Under center is Kelly’s third string quarterback. He’s watched this kid from a distance for several years now and knows what he’s capable of. When Crist went down during the middle of last season, Kelly refused to throw him to the wolves. This was just the first season of a major overhaul and he was not going to waste a year of eligibility. Besides, he’s really not ready. Still unsure of the correct reads and so physically gifted that he has not yet adjusted to football at a level where where he can’t just impose his will, Andrew Hendrix still displays flashes of truly elite talent. Perfectly suited to Kelly’s system.

Hendrix’s unease is not all his doing. Kelly knows this. But committing to Hendrix would alienate a senior who’s put in his time to be a starter. Even worse, he’s also got Rees to think about. Rees isn’t the answer, but he’s light years ahead of Hendrix in terms of understanding the offense, and he won a bowl game. Hendrix needs snaps with the first team to get better. He needs to get used to the speed of the game, the tempo Kelly wants, and the first team needs to get used to running Kelly’s spread offense with a true running threat at quarterback. Sadly, there are not snaps to be had…at least not yet.

From press conferences, speaking engagements, fundraisers, and alumni events, ND nation has made it very clear…they want to win NOW. “The Nation” has been appeased by the bowl win, and everyone keeps pointing to how manageable the 2011 schedule is. Taking a step back right now is not an option. “Just don’t make mistakes guys. We’ll need to be more conservative on offense than I’d like to be and certainly more limited than we should be, but with that schedule, if we just avoid mistakes, we can get to 10 wins.” Just at that moment, Kelly watches a play unfold on the field: Hendrix takes the snap out of the shotgun, fakes a hand off to Cierre Wood, and then uses his speed to move out of the pocket and on the run wings a 30 yard bullet through the air to Tyler Eiffert running down the middle of the field. “That’s the future, just not the present, not yet.”

For a fleeting moment, Kelly has one more thought run through his head: “What if I just said screw it? Crist’s not my guy, he’s not made for this system, and I don’t have long enough to retrain him anyways. Rees should be a third or fourth stringer at best. What if I just came out and told everyone we’re going with Hendrix? The Nation would have some questions about that no doubt. Hell, I’d need to be real candid. I’d have to tell everyone that Hendrix is young, that he doesn’t yet understand the system, and is only just now getting first team reps. I’d have to set expectations low for 2011. Tell them 6-6 or 7-5 would be optimistic because Hendrix is not going to be mistake free. But I’d then get 3 years after to let Hendrix command this team. He’ll get it by then, he just needs the reps.” Kelly comes out of his daze, looks up and watches Hendrix throw a ball directly to Manti Te’o. “I can’t do it. I just can’t answer those types of questions all year. What if he makes that bad a mistake in the South Florida game? ‘The Nation’ would never understand. They’d never let me live it down.”

- Moons

In the Company of Heroes

Now I know that in our first couple posts here at John Lynch’s Dad, Jim and I said that we wanted to create an environment where we would discuss topics in a good-hearted, light-natured manner.  This post might not qualify as that, but it is something that I think needs to be written.

I read this week that on January 2, 2011 Major Dick Winters, a veteran of World War II, passed away.  Most people know of Winters from Damian Lewis’ portrayal of him in the HBO miniseries Band of Brothers. The show, based on a book by Stephen E. Ambrose with the same title, documented one paratroop company’s campaign of duty in the European Theater of World War II. 

I mention this for two reasons. 

First, many of my roommates/good friends were Band of Brothers aficionados during the time we spent together in college.  A lot of times, we’d watch an episode or four all while discussing the respect that we had for these men who, during the war, were the same age as us.  To many people in my generation, I think it takes a show like Band of Brothers to open our eyes to what the young men and women sacrificed for our country when they were our age.  For us, being 20 meant going to class, cheering for the Irish and trying to meet girls.  For men like Dick Winters and his band of brothers, it meant doing everything in their power to stop what was becoming one of the most devastatingly horrific power-conquests in modern times.

Secondly, I wanted to mention this because last April, I had the privilege of being a guardian on the Honor Flight of the Quad Cities.  The Honor Flight Network was created as a way to honor World War II veterans throughout the country by flying them to Washington, D.C. to see many of the city’s memorials.

I don’t recall the exact numbers for the flight I accompanied, but there were roughly 80 or 90 World War II veterans on the flight with about 60 guardians (helpers) and some other attendees (news crews, reporters, etc.).  I was guardian to my grandfather, Edward Haydon (Army, European Theater) and LeeRoy Copple (Navy, Pacific Theater). 

We arrived to the Quad Cities International Airport before the sun rose on April 23.  My grandpa somehow got his foldable walking cane through the TSA checkpoint.  Apparently, they didn’t figure a man using a wheelchair could pose much of a threat! We arrived in DC mid-morning fortunate to have a beautiful, sunny spring day to spend in our nation’s capitol. 

Group Photo @ World War II Memorial.

Upon arrival, we all loaded into busses and headed to the World War II memorial, where a group photo was taken of all the veterans.  We were given free time to roam around the memorial, take photos and see the sights.  The World War II memorial is on the National Mall between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial.  Prior to this visit, I had never seen the National Mall during the day.  Its expanse is much greater in person than it appeared from pictures or film/tv.  One thing that happened here really took me by surprise.  Complete strangers were approaching the veterans and thanking them for their service, with some even shaking hands or saluting.  Some school-aged kids even wanted to take pictures with the vets.  This was the beginning of a trend we would experience throughout the day.

Following the World War II Memorial, we hopped across the river to see the United States Air Force Memorial, which is adjacent to the Arlington National Cemetery.  The USAF Memorial is a very cool design, with 3 spires shooting upward like the smoke trailing fighter jets during a demonstration. 

Group @ Iwo Jima Memorial

We didn’t spend as much time at the USAF Memorial as the World War II memorial, and our next stop was the Iwo Jima Memorial.  I was excited to see this, as the much-anticipated miniseries The Pacific debuted about a month prior to our visit to DC, and the show was about halfway through its allotted episodes.  Before this series aired (which ended up being a very good series, portraying World War II in a different light than Band of Brothers), I really didn’t know a lot about the war in the pacific.  Most of the reading I had done and shows or movies I had seen focused on the European Front. 

On a lighter note, while at the Iwo Jima Memorial, another veteran on our flight (and a relation on my mom’s side), Albert Dussliere, was chatting with a few people at the memorial who were not with our group.  He called me over, and introduced me to some moderately-distant relatives on my mom’s side of the family.  They were visiting DC for vacation.  I guess we really do live in a small world sometimes.  

After we visited the Iwo Jima Memorial, we headed to Arlington Cemetery.  We briefly stopped by the Women in Service Memorial, and then unloaded the busses near the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.  Our stop was timed so we could watch the changing of the tomb guards. The precision in timing that the tomb guards display is quite impressive.

The last place we stopped before returning home was the Lincoln Memorial, so the vets could have a chance to experience the Korean War Memorial, the Vietnam War Memorial, the Lincoln Memorial and the reflecting pool.  As time ran short, we weren’t able to view the Vietnam Memorial, but we did get to soak in the rest of the area.  The reflecting pool extends from the Lincoln Memorial all the way back down to the World War II Memorial, where we started our day.  As time came to load back into the busses, everyone (myself included) was starting to feel the effects of walking around all day in the sun, and we were ready to head home.  Little did we know that the best part of our day was yet to come.

Back in the Quad Cities, other veteran groups and friends and family of the vets on the Honor Flight lined the airport terminal.  As the veterans and their guardians poured into the terminal, they were welcomed with a rousing “Welcome Home!” I can safely report that by the time the last veteran reached the terminal, there wasn’t a dry eye in the building.  There must have been a lot of pollen in the air that time of the year.

Ed Haydon and LeeRoy Copple

In Major Dick Winters’ case, he and the men he led (probably unwittingly) became famous for the courageousness they displayed in their actions during World War II.   For others, like Ed Haydon and LeeRoy Copple, life after World War II was pretty anonymous.  But for one day at least, these veterans were fittingly treated like heroes.

Stephen Ambrose wrote of Dick Winters, “And he made a promise to himself: if he lived through the war, he was going to find an isolated farm somewhere and spend the remainder of his life in peace and quiet.”  I know that Major Winters will spend the rest of eternity in the peace and quiet he so rightly earned.  As for the rest of men and women who were a part of World War II, I can only hope they live out their days knowing that what they sacrificed and endured was truly heroic. 

(editor's note): I cannot emphasize how enjoyable and rewarding the Honor Flight experience was.  If anyone has any interest in doing something like this, you can get information about the Honor Flight here.  I highly recommend doing this.  I hope to be able to go again in the future.

A Tale of Three Legends: An NFL Star, an Ox, and the Father Who Brought Them Together

So, something compelled you to stop by Brent and I’s little cove of the interweb, eh? Well, in all likelihood, that was a serious mistake, but you’re here….Now what’s with the name? Is this a football blog? Are we just serious fans of the man who played a contributing role in the birth of John Lynch? I’ll go ahead and end the suspense right now by simply saying “no.” To understand this blog’s name and purpose, I’m using the word “purpose” quite liberally, I need to tell you the story of the three individuals responsible for this blog’s name.

The first, and undoubtedly least important, member of the trio is former NFL player John Lynch. According to Wikipedia, Lynch played 14 seasons in the NFL. During his career, he reached the Pro Bowl on 9 separate occasions. He won a Super Bowl in 2002 while playing for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and also has the prestigious title of being ranked #10 on the NFL Network’s countdown of the “Top 10 Most Feared Tacklers in NFL History.” I think it’s pretty obvious that were we to ask John Lynch which of his accomplishments he’s most proud of, he would not hesitate to say it was the distinction handed down by the NFL Network. If you’d like to read more about his career, you may do so here:

Like many humans, John Lynch has both a mother and father. We know this because he was born, and there is no apparent reference to him in the Bible as being the result of a second Immaculate Conception. While I’m sure his mother is a lovely person, she is unfortunately a silent partner in our story today. Instead, we focus on his father.

Having done extensive research, it appears that the word “dad” likely derives its origin from the sounds babies make such as “Da-da” or “Ta-ta.” Parent figures, and frequently fathers, somewhere along the way decided that when their spawn makes these sounds during the same period that the spawn soils itself and constantly drools that he/she/it is directly referring to his/her/its father. Hence, “dad” became a synonym for “father.” I can’t argue with this line of thinking.

When we combine these two proven facts: (1) John Lynch has a father, and (2) “dad” is a synonym for “father,” we can deduce that John Lynch has a dad. I think we all know why I aced philosophy in college now. Before we get to a John Lynch’s dad though, I first need to talk about a college friend of mine affectionately known as “The Ox.”

When I arrived on the campus of Notre Dame in 2001 as a freshman, it did not take long for me to hear the tales of The Ox. I did not know him yet, but the stories of him shot-gunning an entire keg of beer and then eating the keg were already the thing of legend. I can’t remember the first time I laid eyes on The Ox, but what I can tell you is that when I saw him, I knew the stories of his keg shot-gunning abilities were true.

Like Paul Bunyan, John Henry, and Justin Bieber, the full origin of The Ox is unknown. The one detail I know to be true is that The Ox came from San Diego, CA, and I’ll explain why that is important shortly. During Brent and I’s junior years, we became good friends with The Ox. I never saw him shot-gun a keg of beer, but there are two other things that helped solidify the legend of The Ox in my mind. The first was The Ox’s uncanny use of the “negative agreement.”

I think most everyone knows that person who is a one-upper or who loves to disagree with everything you say. You know how it goes. If you say Notre Dame is having a good season, this friend tells you why they’re actually having a horrible year. If you talk about this awesome steak recipe you cooked last weekend, this friend tells you about his even more incredible streak recipe that he did last weekend. However, it takes a special person to consistently agree with you by disagreeing. That’s what The Ox could do. The “negative agreement” is an art more than a method of speech. The Ox was a true master. A typical conversation between yourself and The Ox might go something like this.

You: Dude, that bartender last night was freakin’ hot.

Ox: No, that bartender last night was unbelievably hot!

You: Oh yeah man, I can’t believe she didn’t even charge us for our drinks.

Ox: No, she didn’t even bother to run our tabs on those drinks!

You: What a great night, let’s do it again tonight.

Ox: No, we’re definitely doing that again tonight.

You: Ummm…..the sky is blue.

Ox: No, the sky is unbelievably blue. Like, bluer than blue…

The Ox had found a way to successfully integrate the one-up technique with the disagree technique so that he was actually able to disagree with any statement you made, even if he was just agreeing. I’d never met a person who could disagree with every sentence that came out of my mouth before meeting The Ox, and I’ll probably never meet one again.

That leads me to the second thing The Ox became legendary for, and that was storytelling. Constantly the topic of conversation was San Diego. It’s a mythical place in a land far away…California. I believe he once told me that it had never rained there, and that people rode unicorns instead of driving cars. I believe him. He would come back from a vacation from school and entertain us with his stories, and this is where John Lynch’s dad makes his appearance.

If I recall correctly, John Lynch’s dad worked with The Ox’s father (a mythical beast in his own right). That may not be accurate, but their families definitely knew each other somehow. The Ox would provide stories of going to get a drink with “John Lynch’s dad” or getting to meet “John Lynch’s dad” for brunch on a perfect sunny morning in San Diego. Sometimes, the stories would be about how “John Lynch’s dad” had talked to The Ox about what John Lynch was doing in the NFL. I remember each story fondly.

What separates The Ox from the rest of us is that if most of us told these stories they would have been mundane, non-repeatable experiences from a trip home. The story would have been nothing more than “I got a drink with one of my dad’s friends from work.” However, this was San Diego! More importantly, this was John Lynch’s dad! Clearly, there was something special here. The Ox had a way of extracting maximum value from the ordinary.

I don’t know John Lynch’s dad. I’m sure he’s a great person, and he should be very proud of his son’s accomplishments. By contrast, I sure as hell know “John Lynch’s dad.” That man is legend. He turns everyday occurrences into newsworthy events. Whatever it is, “John Lynch’s dad” makes it better. During senior year at Notre Dame especially, any The Ox story was not complete without reference to “John Lynch’s dad.” My roommate that year made a point of asking The Ox whether “John Lynch’s dad” was there anytime The Ox told one of his stories. We all knew the story was not complete unless “John Lynch’s dad” was there.

And that leads us to the title of this blog. Really, the blog should be “John Lynch’s Dad” instead of just John Lynch’s Dad. “John Lynch’s Dad” embodies the making of legend out of everyday human experience. It’s changing the ordinary into the extraordinary. There is no limit to where Brent and I’s rambling may go in the months to come. There’s no topic off limit. Just be assured, we will find that “John Lynch’s Dad” moment in everything we write about.

Cheers,

Moons