The icons in my life are starting to pass away like Lou Reed, James Gandolfini, and one of my most beloved High School teachers, Ron Shoemaker.  These men taught me through their art and skill to walk on the wild side, to be tough, yet vulnerable, and to love unconditionally.  Still, death – famous or not – brings with it a wake up call.  A realization that your life doesn’t extend forever and you can’t take ‘it’ with you.  My friends ‘it’ is your nest egg, if you have built one.

I’ve been saving money since my Uncle Allen taught me at 19 my most important financial lesson of all, pay yourself first.  I’ve been doing that ever since.  And now decades later as I approach the final decade of my working life, I’ve built a nice financial situation for my wife and I which should enable us to live a comfortable final phase of our lives.  As long as we continue to be healthy, our retirement should be fun filled and worry free.  Just the way I wanted.

I don’t often wax philosophical about getting to be about that age where I’m glad I saved enough for retirement, that I won’t have to rely on Social Security checks to survive, that I didn’t spend more than I made when I was young, middle aged, or past middle aged.  It hasn’t been without some luck along the way but also years of incredible financial discipline to get to this stage of my life and I’m proud of what I’ve done.  Anyone in my situation would be.

But, here’s the thing, if you aren’t taking care of yourself, if you aren’t planning for the future, you’re guaranteed to be eating cat food out of a can when your time finally comes.  It’s OK to be a little crazy, to have fun, to be tough, but fair, and to love unconditionally, but there are also times when you have to be disciplined.  When you have to recognize what do I want my future self, my grey haired self, to be like?

I’ve always believed your life is lived in three phases.  The first phase is all about your education, the second phase is about building a family and career, and the third and final phase retirement.  No one knows when you’ll make your final exit, but it is worthwhile to plan for your final phase so that in the end it will feel like it’s all been for the best.

Is there anything more upsetting than losing a game?  I don’t care what it is you’re playing but when you lose it sucks.  I have a pit in my stomach that feels like a bowling ball.  My National Adult Baseball Association team lost in the championship game yesterday 5-1.  We had gone the whole week undefeated up until that point even beating the team we were playing for the 2013 NABA World Series title 7-3 on Monday.  But we didn’t hit.  I didn’t hit.  I want to cry.  I want to jump up and down and yell and scream.  I want to punch something.

There is something about losing that motivates the team to work harder, to learn from mistakes, and I’ll even buy that it makes winning all the more sweet.  But, what is the point?  Why after so much success does a team and an individual fail?  We had won 6 in a row heading into yesterday’s game.

I’m NOT looking for sympathy.  In fact, dear reader, do NOT comment if you think I’m fishing for a feel good cliche.  I’m not!  I need to get this off my chest before I drive myself crazy with regret.  So, it would be better if you had anything to say, comment on how you felt during a contest when you lost and what you did about it.  Please no “better luck next time” crap, OK?

It wasn’t that we didn’t – I didn’t – want it bad enough.  It wasn’t that we hadn’t trained.  We didn’t give the game away.  We simply failed to hit.  The pitcher was good, but not so good we couldn’t hit him.  I myself had pitches to hit but didn’t.  It is the unpredictability of baseball that drives exhilaration and utter despair.  Earlier in the week, I was hitting balls over outfielders heads and at the end of the week I couldn’t hit it out of the infield.  Was I fatigued, surely, but I should’ve been able to do better.

The funny thing about hitting is that it is contagious.  When one guy gets a hit, others follow.  Usually.  For some reason, it just didn’t happen yesterday.  We averaged 15 runs per game heading into the title bout.  We scored 1.  Seriously?  I am still pissed not so much at my teammates but at myself.  Why does this happen?

I’ve been playing this game since I was 8 years old.  I’m not about to give up now.  I’m going to spend the winter contemplating what happened in my last game of 2013 and, of course, use it as motivation in my training.  I’ll probably take the week off to heal up, but I’ll be out running again before you know it.  I’ll be in the weight room and I’ll be hitting in the cages.  I know I’ll do better next time.  I have to keep the faith that if you want success, you have train harder and I will.

There’s no crying in baseball but I sure want to every time I fail.  And I know I’m not perfect, I just want to be.

My Farewell to the 2013 San Francisco Giants.

It has been a helluva ride the last 4 years for us diehard San Francisco Giants fans.  As disappointed as I am that my beloved professional baseball team’s season ended today, it is not without hope I look toward next year.  After all, the Giants have won 2 out of the last 3 World Series after 58 years of disappointment.   So, how can I not be optimistic about next year?  I have to write about what I think are the strengths of the team and what they need to do next year to win it all again.

Today’s walk off victory in the last game of the season will no doubt send off our boys to a happy winter looking forward to spending the next few months with family and friends and getting ready for next season.  Sadly, there just were too many games where the team didn’t play up to its capabilities and are going home early.  That fact, plus a few injuries most assuredly led to more losses than wins this year.  Next year, we’ll need better hitting with men in scoring position, fewer errors, and less injuries.

Looking toward next year, the strengths of the team are most assuredly at Catcher (Buster Posey), Center Field (Angel Pagan), Right Field (Hunter Pence), 2nd Base (Marco Scataro) and Shortstop (Brandon Crawford).  When these 5 guys are on the field, the Giants are simply an outstanding team.  Losing Pagan was arguably the biggest loss because the Giants had a winning record when he was on the field.  These 5 all hit in the clutch, play great defense, inspire their teammates with unselfish hustle and provide clutch hitting.  I would be remiss, if I didn’t also give a shout out to the bullpen.  Sergio Romo, Santiago Casilla, Javier Lopez, Jeremy Affeldt, Jean Machi and crew were mostly lights out all year.  A tip of the cap to this outstanding crew.  I’d make it even better in 2014 by adding Heath Hembree.  That kid is a gamer.

For next year, the question marks are Left Field, 3rd Base, 1st Base and the starting pitching (with the exception of Madison Bumgarner, Matt Cain and Chad Gaudin, who at times were mostly brilliant, especially MadBum).  Gregor Blanco is at best a super sub.  He’s not a starter in my book and the team desperately needs an upgrade to a power hitter who can play left field.  If I were Brett Pill, I’d spend every single day in the off season (starting tomorrow) shagging fly balls.  If given an every day job, I think Pill can become an incredible player for the Giants.  He’s proved he can hit at all minor league levels, so I’d get him in the 2014 lineup every day as my starter in Left.  What more can be said about Pablo Sandoval and his weight?  At times brilliant (see 2012 World Series) and at times an absolute buffoon.  He’s better than the .279 hitter he was this year.  He needs to go back on a diet and see a psychologist about why he continues to swing at pitches in the dirt.  If he literally can’t get his head out of his ass, I’d look for another 3rd baseman.  He’s a loveable guy, but when he’s pushing 300 lbs. he’s an almost automatic out in the clutch.  Which brings me to the curious case of Brandon Belt.  He had a breakout campaign in 2013.  Was it a fluke or can he build on this for next year?  He’s got MVP-like talent, but he too needs his cranium removed from his butt hole.  All he needed was a new grip.  Seriously?  I think he simply shit his pants when they called Brett Pill up because he knew he’d get cut or traded if he didn’t start hitting.  Thank God he responded.  We’ll need him to stay hot next year for the whole year.  Finally, the starting pitching.  Zito and probably Timmy are gone.  Who do you backfill them with?  I’d like to see the Giants give Yusmeiro Petit a shot over a full season and see what he does with it.  Ryan Vogelsong when healthy looked average this year and hittable.  He’s got to come back stronger than ever next year or else I’d move him to the bullpen.  I think Mike Kickham has a future starting spot in my rotation for 2014.  He has a wicked slider and simply needs more big league experience to improve his confidence and contribute.  I’d make him my 5th starter.

So there you have it Giants fans.  The greatest fans in all of professional sports watching our favorite team in the greatest ballpark in all of major league baseball in the greatest city in the world.  My heart is and always will be in San Francisco.

I have absolutely nothing to write about.  Nada.  Nothing.  I’ve been staring at my computer screen for 20 minutes.  I started writing a story and got to about a paragraph and just drew a blank.  I couldn’t write another worthwhile thing, so I deleted it all.  Just as I’m about to give it a rest for tonight, my wife walks by and drops her sweatpants.  That is just the inspiration I need.  In fact, it’s the only inspiration I’ve needed since I reached puberty.  Chasing the booty is as worthwhile a topic of literary excellence as anything.

My pursuit of female ass began at about the age of 12 when I became infatuated by a young hottie named Barbara.  I will not divulge her family name until next of kin have been informed.  She was my first brown eyed girl and just when I think she started to like me too, we finished the 6th grade and my dad moved us from Santa Cruz to Montara, CA.  Love lost.  Thanks Dad.

In Junior High in the hot butt capital of Half Moon Bay there were a series of loves from Carol to Marcia who I couldn’t bear the thought of speaking to directly.  I wasn’t cool and smooth talking like I am now.  I was nerdy and stupid and walked around with greasy hair and clothes made by my mom.  I played Pop Warner football, basketball and Pony League baseball.

High School was no better.  Gia, Susan, Barbara (different Barbara), Marcia (again) found their way at various times into my heart.  I was the kind of boy who excelled in sports, did my average best in the classroom, and was a total loser when it came to attracting women.  Still, I never gave up.  The pursuit to make ’em laugh and get them to like me were the only skills I had as staring at a white man’s afro didn’t have the same appeal to young women as feathered hair and clear, clean skin.  I perfected my wit but still had difficulty finding the courage to ask anyone out for a date.  Tongue tied and zit faced meant I spent a lot of Friday night’s playing by myself.  I didn’t give up.  I just wasn’t any good.  Deep in my soul, I knew that it would take me moving away to find and rightfully pursue the love of my life.

It didn’t take as long as I expected.  My wife and I met randomly in college during my Freshman, her Sophomore, year after my football practice and her swim practice on a hot Redding fall day.  We connected, or so I like to think, even though she already had a boyfriend.  I didn’t let up.  I stayed in touch.  I kept trying to worm my way into her heart and I eventually won at my birthday party with the absolute best line of my life.  I noticed she was wearing a sweater as dark as a moonless night and I told her my favorite color was black.  We’ve been married 27 years now.  I thank God each day that I didn’t tilt and that somehow over the years I earned a few extra games.

I amaze myself what I’m able to produce once I get a little ass.  Tough to explain how, my friends, you’re going to like or hate this post.  I’m a guy, for God’s sake, and I’ve always been a little bit of an ass man.  Maybe someday, I’ll even be able to call myself a writer.

It's Time to Stop Thanking God, Superstar!.

With the release of Tim Tebow by the New England Patriots, I believe it is finally time to stop thanking God for achievement on the athletic field.  I mean, for God’s sake, do superstars have to point to the sky every time they score a touchdown, drill a trey, or hit a home run?  It’s like they’re flipping the bird to the defense because God favored them over another athlete.  Let me tell you, God doesn’t work that way. Tebowing may finally be a thing of the past.

I will indeed buy into the concept of God-given talent, height, speed, strength, and by God, Tebow is a helluva football player but I will not believe the Almighty favors one team or one player over another.  Success in sport comes from the words of Fort Minor, “This is 10% luck, 20% skill, 15% concentrated power of will, 5% pleasure, 50% pain, and 100% reason to remember the name!”

The true meaning of sport is to give your best and to be humble in victory and gracious in defeat.  The thrill of victory and agony of defeat is enough to drive men and women to drink, but is God in Heaven really choosing the winners and losers?

I don’t buy it.  We all have our superpowers but in the end it’s how we use them or not use them that determine success or failure on the athletic field, in the gym, in the classroom, in the workplace or at home.  This proclamation isn’t about belief in God, it’s about belief in the human spirit.  I believe in the power of human will.  That man/woman can and will overachieve if he/she wants to.  Winning isn’t just about talent, it’s also about wanting to win and mentally overcoming all adversity real or imagined.

I don’t know what sparked this position.  Perhaps it’s the thought of Tebow right now, in his living room on bended knee praying to God for another chance to be a QB in the NFL when what he should be doing is learning how to read defenses, improve the speed of his release, and recognizing perhaps being a QB in the NFL isn’t in the cards.  He could be a helluva Tight End or Fullback.  Quit praying and start working TT like I know and God knows you can.