Brooke Hundley

Too Great An Expectation

// August 29th, 2010 // 19 Comments » // Baseball, Football

Some might say this is the best time of year to be a sports fan. With the NFL preseason underway and the MLB season winding down towards the hunt for October, fall brings about not only a renewed optimism for sports fans that their team might just clinch a championship, but also an almost cyclic enthusiasm for the next superstar who will lead the way. Call it a need to have hope, a desire to see a young athlete achieve great things, or perhaps just an old fashioned envious nature that those with consistently disappointing teams can have a highly touted prospect move in and move their team to victory, but the start of every season always seems to come with the same old talk around the water cooler about whether this year might be different….

July 4th weekend 2010, I traveled to Washington D.C, for what had been a summer determination (some might call it obsession) with attending a game at every ballpark on the east coast within traveling distance of my NYC apartment. I’d selected this particular weekend not only because the Mets fans were in town, which usually ensures an entertaining ballgame regardlesss, but more importantly because I figured for all the fuss it was about time I saw this year’s No. 1 draft pick Stephen Strasburg in action. I’d watched Strasburg grow up a bit, having helped with the College World Series at ESPN as well as MLB games in which producers were always wanting a little footage of Strasburg in their back pockets should his name come up in in-game conversation. I’d been impressed with his outings at San Diego State as many had, and held optimistic enthusiasm for his future, that is…until his major league debut.

On June 8, 2010, Strasburg made his debut to a sold out crowd in Washington D.C. as well as viewers watching from all over the country. Bob Costas described Strasburg’s debut to the Washington Post as having “no precedent” in all of baseball history with regards to hype and buildup for a player debut. Yes, the Strasburg media machine was in full action, and one can imagine the love of sports fans everywhere being a bit too overwhelming, a pressure cooker of sorts for a 21-year-old kid trying to prove to the nation he deserved to be chosen No. 1. Fourteen strikeouts later, zero walks or fly balls, and a punch out of the last seven batters he faced, and the game was over, but sports writers everywhere had already lit up the digital world with their take on the future of Strasburg, calling him “the new era of the Nationals, (Washington Post), “ a real foundation for hope and expectations” (The New York Times), “the greatest pitching prospect ever” (ESPN), and in summation of the night, “a star – and maybe a franchise – was born” (Fox Sports). Each headline I’d read with ever increasing concern, yes I’d never seen a rookie debut with such talent as Strasburg, yes there was indeed great optimism to be had about the future of this pitcher and perhaps the future of the franchise, but could this outpouring of love and expectation be asking too much of a pitcher, a player who only plays the game every five days, and worse yet is contracted to one repetitive motion, expected to retain the top form of that movement in every appearance, which for Strasburg meant pitches clocking in in the high 90s and a paralyzing curveball? I’d watched his postgame interview with even more concern, many who have viewed it as well as his other media appearances often quote his humbleness, others critique him as too emotionless (not so exciting for television), but I see a player who is trying to let himself off the pedestal we’ve created for him now and again and remember that he’s just human. In his interview after been congratulated for achieving the impossible, for exceeding the hype at his debut, he reminded us all that “it’s a long road in the season, it’s a long career,” and even more importantly that “(he’s) human, it’s not always going to be that good,” a point many fans seemed to gloss over in their rush to discuss his future home in the Hall of Fame. That’s not to say he shouldn’t be praised, this is a kid who has worked hard to hone his skills, a leader and someone well respected in the baseball community, and a name to finally wear proudly on the back of a Nationals jersey.

As I watched his performance in person that hot July afternoon I won’t say I wasn’t a tad disappointed, as he ended up having one of the worst outings of the season outpitched by the Mets’ R.A. Dickey. It was Strasburg’s 6th major league start and possibly the shortest of his career. He lasted five innings, allowed two runs on four hits, struck out five and walked three. While his numbers were hardly anything to be too disappointed about, able to bounce back after a disappointing inning or two to keep the game close and eventually paving the way for a Nationals win, I felt a sting of envy as I listened to the Nats fan next to me describe in detail how riveting it to was to see his debut in person and the excitement in the air. Still, I was impressed with his form, his speed and his last two innings, as Strasburg threw a combined 22 pitches and retired six straight. Yet as I watched him return to the dugout each inning I grew nervous, feeling the pressure cloud around him producing its own battle internally, one that came across very loudly in his post-game interview in which he talked as if he had had the worst outing imaginable, working too fast on the mound and desperately needing to slow things down. During the game he stormed backed to the dugout bench after each outing, didn’t say a word to his fellow teammates, and any onlooker could see just how hard he was beating himself up over a single game in the middle of the season, clearly frustrated and disappointed in himself to such a point that others would place a hand on his shoulder but not say a word as if the best medicine was to leave him to his own demons.

Fast forward almost 2 months later and the headlines tell a different story about Strasburg, a story that is almost a parallel in the degree of disappointment and sadness fans have as they originally had in optimism and awe towards Strasburg at his debut. Some writers in the D.C. area going so far as to call it a “day for mourning” as news has come out that Strasburg will have to undergo Tommy John surgery, removing him from play for the rest of the season and likely for an entire year with the added physical therapy needed to get him back to his old form. This isn’t the most devastating news, many players have had the surgery and come back to stellar careers like A.J. Burnett and Chris Carpenter, but rather it’s that the young superstar didn’t even make it through a season before finding his career stagnated and his health diminished. Fans immediately look to the ballclub for not resting him enough, or the media hounds who have criticized the young star too harshly, as guilty parties for this horrible news, but I don’t. I think back to being locked in on Strasburg in that dugout after every inning of a roller coaster performance and seeing a young kid with a nation of parents, parents who offer love and support but also place vast expectations on a kid who still beats himself up, feeling as if if he isn’t pitching perfectly he isn’t doing well enough. Strasburg’s surgery in some ways might be good for him, to get away from the pressure to have time to work on his mental game as much as his physical therapy, and to offer up a chance to grow into a man who defines himself by his own standards and expectations both in his life and in his career. I wish him the best of luck and I will be rooting for what I hope will be a long and successful career, albeit without complete perfection.

In the meantime I’ve been noticing a few headlines that are starting to get me feeling queasy all over again, in his first career start Sam Bradford, the NFL’s No. 1 draft pick, went 15 of 22 for 189 yards and two touchdowns, leading the Rams to a preseason victory over the Patriots. He wasn’t perfect, in the way Strasburg was, but he did make terrific passes and many can be quoted as saying “he looked every bit like a starting NFL quarterback,” (Yahoo! Sports) , “Bradford made the Rams sing…an exclusive quarterback,” (NFL Fanhouse), “Rookie Bradford performs like a veteran,” (Fox Sports), “Looking like a pro-bowler in his rookie season…the Ram’s future is bright! (ReviewSTL.com). All I can say is this: football fans you have reason to be excited, a reason to look forward to the future with Bradford at the helm, but try to remember he’s only 22-years-old, and like any good parents, encourage, support and love are what bring out the best qualities in a person. Try not to set the expectations too impossibly high, give Bradford room to grow, expect there to be some growing pains, and just enjoy the ride, and maybe we’ll get to see him play the whole season and many, many more….

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Choose Wisely

// December 31st, 2009 // No Comments » // Football, General, Sports

Any hour can be our finest or our darkest; it’s our choice.  It’s a simple word with a lot of weight this idea of choice.  As a noun many of us find ourselves thankful to carry this option in our back pockets, as if it presents an inalienable right we possess to live our lives how we wish.  But when called upon in verb form, when any of us are asked to CHOOSE, it becomes a loaded gun that when engaged becomes so rife with outside opinions, inner anxiety and a plethora of criticism, negativity and judgment from every which way that many find themselves so afraid of the possibility of choosing incorrectly and incurring the subsequent punishment, they’d rather hideout from the prospect of having to choose at all.  The concept of choice has never been more prominently displayed than in college football this week where two highly prized coaches left their coveted positions one by choice, the other forcibly without choice, leaving the world to wonder what they will do at this new and unexpected juncture in life.

If one were to enter the home of any true sports fan while their team is playing on TV, you’ll find a unique phenomenon known as the armchair coach.  All sports fans do it, confined to the walls of our living room we find ourselves screaming at our players, coaching from our seats, demanding from our team a better output, whether it’s protecting the quarterback more effectively, being more accurate when turning a double play, or finding consistency when shooting outside the paint.   Yet we can yell and rant or cheer for our team, without the added pressure of our decisions weighing into the game, without the fear that precedes all choices, without the ridicule that comes from choosing incorrectly and facing your team’s defeat.  In every one of us is a coach waiting to break free, but it was growing up on the tennis courts that I’ve found the closest experience to that of the internal painful dilemma of coaching.

Tennis players often find themselves alone in their own world, talking and rallying themselves because the solitary confinement on the court prevents them from so much as speaking to their coaches and thus they are forced to become their own coaches, to internally strategize at all times, thinking 2 or 3 plays ahead of their opponent, trading blows without ever physically engaging, and forcing away the fear, the torment, that they might be making the wrong choice and falter.  They are forced to push aside all fears because every tennis player much like every coach knows that in the heat of battle indecision breeds defeat.

In the middle of a game decisions are made quickly and one is resigned to stand by them for better or worse, but when the competition is over and the teams retreat into their daily lives, at what point does this expectation of always choosing correctly and never faltering, never wavering, carry through to our personal?   Urban Meyer was praised and respected this week when he chose to leave his champion football program at Florida for a renewed focus on his deteriorating health and family time.  While many questioned his departure, no one questioned the choice that was made, it was a done deal and the world would have to be content with letting him fade away into seclusion.  But the moment Meyer returned with a change of heart, deciding to only take a leave of absence but in effect return to coach the team again, he was met with extreme skepticism, annoyance and critical opinions from the outside world, as if he had exposed human weakness in his indecision, a weakness the outside world demanded never to see, despite the fact that any human would find himself/herself in the same role struggling to let go of the now and enter into the unknown not knowing if his/her best days are over.  It’s as if we expect more than pure human weakness from our coaches and our players, as if we want our generals on the field to be as certain in their own lives as they are while in battle.

Mike Leach was removed from Texas Tech this week after complaints from a player about inhumane treatment at practice.  Without the ability to stand up for himself, and despite the outpouring of support from players and other coaches stating that that which was published in the media was sensationalized and unsubstantiated and should have remained a private matter within the organization, Leach was forced out due to the media onslaught.  He brought a football program out in one of the most remote sections of the country from an athletic wasteland to a respected, winning, recruiting machine that could compete with some of the best football programs in the country.  Yet the moment he made a choice that showed weakness, acting out on emotion whether out of anger or just utter annoyance due constant whining and complaining by an athlete, he was criticized, relieved of his duties and left to question what lies ahead.

Is it any wonder then when watching Urban Meyer’s or Brett Favre’s indecisiveness about their personal career decisions attacked with harsh criticism, doubt and negativity from the outside world, or Mike Leach’s insignificant (at least seemingly at the time), emotionally infused discipline choice at a practice derail his entire career and overshadow his accomplishments, that so many of us find ourselves wriggling in fear when presented with having to make a choice for ourselves?  It’s as if all of us must be born with an innate ability to always choose the right path, to never falter, never question, never be indecisive, but how can anyone live up to those standards when we are all error prone, when it is a standard of our very human nature to falter at times?  Maybe Leach should have never disciplined his player, maybe Meyer should have never updated the public on his deteriorating health and his daughter’s heartwarming hug, maybe Favre should have ignored his desires to return to the game and stuck by his choice to remain in retirement from the beginning.  But isn’t the beauty of each of us that we are given those choices to make, that we can choose our destinies, change our destinies, follow a less beaten path or a new adventure at any time in life?

At the end of the day it is not our critics or our judges or any outside force, but rather our internal apprehension that is the most dangerous to surrender to.  Fear exists like a gateway drug, you give into the small ones, let them eat away at you and soon you’re struggling in severe pain at the bigger ones, feeding an uncontrollable addiction as your fears mount and grow and your mind develops new and disturbing ways to view the negative ways in which the choices you make could harm you.  Still it’s a question we must ask as we enter this new year are we all simply slaves to fear, or can we resist the uneasiness over the strange and unfamiliar, the judgments, and the hypocrisy of those who seek to criticize our choices, but in retrospect hardly know what path they would choose in the same situation.  Instead of fearing choice, can we activate our self-confidence, our inner positive monologue, and learn to embrace this right to choose?

We will all stand at a crossroads at some point in our lives, forced to choose a path to take in our journey.  But our biggest danger is not the unknown, but our own lack of self-confidence.  As we stand choosing our fates we must breed hope, encourage our own success, visualize prosperity and face the outside negativity, making our decisions based upon what we hope and desire most for ourselves.  I hope for anyone finding their crossroads in life that they are merely setting themselves on a new journey filled with success.  For Leach I hope he finds a new rewarding opportunity in college football and gains another chance to lead a program and build champion athletes.  For Meyer I hope he is able to find a balance between work and life, one in which his family and his health are cared for first, and in effect any job he has in the athletic world is subsequently strengthened by it.  For Favre I wish for him to play football until he simply no longer has the passion or the physical desire to play anymore and then I hope he will find other avenues to share his talent with gifted athletes.  And for all of you out there, I hope when you face a road in life requiring a choice to be made, you find calmness and inner peace where many feel fear and darkness, and you willingly take that leap into the unknown, face the negativity and the skepticism with a fighting spirit, and learn and grow from this challenge.  For those who walk proudly down that unpaved road I know you will someday find the fortune that awaits you.

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Oh Come All Ye Faithful

// December 24th, 2009 // No Comments » // Football, General, Sports

The other night I agreed to be on a live podcast for someone who had been persistent, but nice about putting to use my desire to talk sports on the air.  It was a fun opportunity to calm the nerves of the on-air talent over the latest Yankee trade and break down the Broncos deteriorating offense, but it was the very last question that I found myself contemplating long after the interview ended.  I had been asked if it was time already to move on from the dog fighting scandal that had defined Michael Vick the past year, to give him the opportunity to continue on in life without carrying around this negative label.

Before the past few months I might have been quick to answer that with a rash judgment, to say actions speak louder than words and that no one deserves a second chance after choosing to hurt another living thing.  But as time has gone by and assumptions have been made about who I am as a person by those far removed from my personal situation, I started to question if the greatest gift we could give to anyone who has been dealt a hard lesson learned is the simple gift of our faith.

When you divulge yourself into this idea of faith it’s easy to see that it isn’t so strictly cornered on the market by religious doctrine or spiritual shrines, but rather a concept existing and thriving in our everyday lives.  Whether it’s faith in a new relationship to go the distance, faith in a career path to bring you future success, or simply faith that this year will be the winning year for your “always the bridesmaid never the bride” sports team, faith is an ever fluid characteristic of our very human nature.  So why when presented with someone who has made blunders in life, but wants to reform, do we find it to be such a hard gift to give?  Are we fearful that by placing our faith in others who have stumbled we will only find ourselves regretting our decision later when they fall back to their old pattern?

Or is it a matter of not wanting to stand behind something so unstable, so uncertain, so downright risky as the potential of another person to do well with their life and to learn from their mistakes that we’d feel safer leaving them to rot behind bars or at the very least so far from their former successful lives that we won’t be forced to chose between helping or hindering them?  The sad part is that the easier option, to look the other way, to close the door on all opportunity, is more likely to put that person back into their former bad patterns as they give in to believing that that is simply their destiny.  While the option of getting past our own insecurities and defending another by giving them the outward support, guidance and faith that they can and will succeed, puts the odds as much more likely to prevail, but at a much higher gamble.

Someone once asked me what good is a lesson learned in life if you never have a second chance.  It’s a question that has stayed with me through the last few months and one I often find myself asking when those who once offered support now won’t return my phone calls.  As the holidays roll in and many ponder their resolutions for next year I find myself most hopeful for new opportunities, opportunities to improve and better myself, opportunities that will only exist because of the faith of others.

Maybe this idea of faith is only viewed so fearfully because we make it into something bigger than itself, fearing we will have to invest time, energy, and so much of ourselves, when in reality all that is being asked for is an open mind and possibility.  This simplified idea of faith is not lost on the Eagles, as Michael Vick’s teammates unanimously agreed to award him the Ed Block Courage award.  Some may question whether he deserves it for the path he’s taken and the road he’s traveled to this point, but to me it’s not about the past, it’s an award given to say we have faith in you as a player and as a man that you CAN overcome, that you WILL better yourself, and prove yourself deserving of the world’s respect again.  And that’s all the faith a person could ask for.  So this holiday I hope we all take a cue from the Eagles’s playbook and learn to show a little faith and give it a little more freely.  After all we’re all human, we all make mistakes, we all fall off the wagon, and we all deserve a chance, a little faith, that we will get back into the game of life and prove we’ve earned our place in the lineup.

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The Price of Perfection

// December 21st, 2009 // 6 Comments » // Football, General, Sports

This week marked the official ending to the New Orleans Saints undefeated season, a 24-17 loss to the Cowboys filled with defensive pressure that produced too many mistakes and too many turnovers. Even a strong rally back in the 4th quarter could not prevent another fumble by the Saints to give them even a chance at an overtime victory. It wasn’t too surprising that the Saints would eventually find defeat, given the three games earlier this season in which they barely slid by with a win. But for many it was a moment to relish, as the inconsistent Cowboys fighting for playoff contention took down the mighty, unstoppable NFC winning machine. As I sat in the restaurant watching the throngs of football fans cheering on the Cowboys, many of whom had told me they weren’t actually Cowboys fans but rather were just anxious to see the Saints fail, I started to question: why in the face of perfection do we find ourselves rooting the hardest for failure?

Whether it’s a star golfer’s perfect family man persona marred by indiscretion, a champion baseball player’s perfect season questioned by the use of performance enhancing drugs, or the end of a team’s perfect, seemingly undefeatable win streak, the ultimate fall from grace seems to create a frenzy of entertainment, criticism, and downright giddiness over the opportunity to bask in the failure of others. Is it merely our own insecurity wanting to believe that perfection is unattainable, that no one can live up to an idea of flawlessness no matter how talented? Or is it a need to fulfill an inner self-confidence, to maintain a belief that any of us could have been that athlete, that model, that musician, if only we had been given a similar lucky break in life and that these gifted people are no different than any of us other mere mortal beings with weaknesses to be exposed?

Maybe it’s an inherent trait in all of us, to want good things for others, but secretly hoping for nothing too grand without a little pain and hardship along the way to make them appreciative and to soften their egos. Almost assuredly as there will be death and taxes there will be games won and lost, sports scandals exposed on and off the field, and a fair share of self-centeredness brought down to earth. Still, the question remains can we learn to find comfort and happiness in the achievements of others, teach ourselves that those who have earned success deserve to relish in it and nurture the belief that hard work will be well rewarded? Or will we forever be a nation of cynics, living in a state of perpetual jealousy and pessimism at the perfection in others, waiting for the next shoe to drop, for all good things to come to an end, for the pedestal to be pulled out from under that perfect athlete, model or musician, and the world to seem like a fairer place, an even playing field once again. Time will only tell, but as it stands the Indianapolis Colts take on the New York Jets next week, and I wonder just who you might find yourself rooting for.

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