Thomas Hammock is a coach for a university football team I’d never heard of before last Saturday. Since 2019, he’s been the head coach of the Northern Illinois Huskies.

Last Saturday afternoon, on national TV, Coach Hummock cried.

Every year the top college football programs, including USC and Notre Dame, schedule a few early contests against what I think of as “fodder” teams – teams they can easily beat.
I graduated from USC, and I’m a big fan of their football team (so long as they don’t I lose more than two or three games in a season). As expected, on Saturday evening USC easily won their game against the Utah State Aggies 48-0.

But Notre Dame’s afternoon game against Northern Illinois played out a little differently.

For almost 100 years, USC has had a rivalry game against Notre Dame. So, I watched the Notre Dame game hoping that, even though Northern Illinois were the underdogs by 28-1/2 points, that somehow, they would beat the odds. Boy did they ever!

To my amazement, Northern Illinois was the better team, outplaying Notre Dame 16-14 in a stunning victory. Maybe the Notre Dame scholarship players had been studying their reviews rather than their playbooks. Maybe it was just one of those magic moments that the gutsy Northern Illinois players will remember, with pride, for the rest of their lives. Maybe it was a lesson for Notre Dame about hubris.

In any event, thank you Coach Hammock, and thanks to your team.  Since I’m 84 years old I’m sure you all will remember that one September afternoon of college football magic far longer than I will, but you and your team are heroes in my eyes.

And also, Coach, thanks for setting an excellent example for the rest of us. Thank you for teaching your team, and the rest of us “to believe,” and for being real, and crying on national TV.

Alan

Do I play golf?  Not since I tried “pitch and putt” once or twice when I was in my teens.  So, is it weird that I enjoy watching golf on Television and even have a favorite golfer I root for on the PGA tour?

My father, who played golf several times a month, typically scored in the mid-90s, which is about average for someone who plays recreationally. In golf, the lower your score the better. Professionals playing on the PGA tour average in the very low 70’s.

The golfer I personally root for is Colin Morikawa, an American who is 27 years old and lives in the Los Angeles area.  He’s won a few tournaments, and lately has finished in the top ten in many professional tournaments.  It’s a lucrative position for a young golfer. The winner’s purse is usually in the millions, but Morikawa can earn as much as $300,000 for just finishing in the top five.  And that doesn’t count additional income from sponsors.

But still – chasing a little round ball around a beautiful park to have it finally drop into a small hole while everyone is watching?  Does that sound like fun?  Not to me, especially when I consider that only three or four shots are often the difference between first place and third or fourth. I can’t imagine doing that for a living. Especially when it’s all so public. Talk about pressure!

When I mistakenly type the wrong date in an email no one knows but the recipients, and they might not even notice. But when Phil Mikelson misses a crucial shot in the final three holes and loses the lead in a big tournament, everyone in the world who cares about golf knows about it.

Tennis anyone? All that grunting and running around the court while trying to hit a ball travelling at 120 miles per hour. No thanks. The same goes for baseball and football and soccer and…

Am I weird because I prefer watching to playing? Writing about sports might just be the closest I’ll ever get to participating. Unless you consider poetry slams a sport.

Alan

Yesterday, I found myself contemplating my life. Wouldn’t it be nice, I thought, to be fifty years younger again?  In my case, that would mean I’d be 34 years old.

Of course, there are details.  Chances are I wouldn’t make the same choices and have the same opportunities and experiences, and that would mean I wouldn’t have the same life, same spouse, same bank account.  I’d have to go through the same or similar experiences I did years ago all over again.  Would I wind up, 50 years from now, in the same place, or become the same person. Who knows?

Thank goodness this is a thought experiment, and not (as far as I know) reality.  I really like my life, and wouldn’t trade it for another, even if that included the “bonus” of living an extra half a century.  I think the possibility of me having a better life is unlikely. Consequently, the chance of having a different, longer life is not appealing.

It became popular in the 1970’s to “live in the moment.”  But that is something I’ve always done.

I have a friend I have seen regularly for more than forty years.  When we’ve been apart for more than a week or two she used to say, “I missed you.”  When I don’t respond with the proper words, such as “I missed you too” she used to feel rejected.  But when I live in the moment, I’m paying attention to where I am, who I’m with, and whatever it is I’m thinking or feeling at that time.  I seldom focus on someone who is not physically present.  (I admit that from time to time I’ll Google the name of a friend I’ve lost touch with over the years, basically to see where they are, and if they’re still alive.  I’m happy to report that most of them are.)

The passage of the days and hours is highly subjective.  Doesn’t it seem that when you’re enjoying yourself time passes quickly, and when you’re bored it slows to a crawl?  In that sense, my life has been rather short.

Thought experiment aside, I do my best to treasure each moment, even when it contains a lesson I’d rather not learn. Because in the bigger picture I wouldn’t have gotten where I am without all the choices I’ve made in the past.  And that certainly includes the mistakes.

So when an angel, or devil, appears and asks me if I’d like to be young again, my answer is:

“Thanks, but no thanks.  I really like the life I have.”

Alan