It’s been said that the “worst day on the golf course is better than the best day at the office,” a sentiment likely originated by someone with the emotions of a tree stump.  I don’t know about you, but I’m rarely so frustrated at work that I swear at the top of my lungs, or feel like throwing something out the window.  But these are the realities for some – no, most – avid golfers, who have pledged on more than one occasion to “quit this stupid game.”  My round last weekend personifies this Byzantine I-love-this-game-no-I-hate-it relationship:

It started pleasant enough.  A slight breeze kept the August sun at bay.  The grassy scent from the freshly cut fairways was a refreshing invitation and a reminder of why I play.  Golf is supposed to be relaxing, right?  “Now on the #1 tee, the Raines twosome,” roared the clubhouse loudspeaker, alarming me to stop hitting range balls, and head to the first tee where my dad was already warming up.  I try to play a couple times a week in good weather, often with my dad, to catch up and take advantage of the club membership he has (that I don’t).

I won’t qualify for the PGA Tour any time soon, but compared to your average weekend hack, I’m decent.  My best score ever is a 75, and regularly shoot in the low 80s, or high 70’s on a good day.

So then, I was thrilled to be playing ‘par golf’ through the first seven holes — with one birdie, one bogey, the rest pars — which is never a bad thing when you’re a 10 handicapper.  I was dialed in like a sniper at a shooting range.

On the 8^th hole, at even par, I stuck an approach shot to just 10 feet from the hole.  A very makeable birdie putt.  Could I possibly go UNDER par?!  I studied the break with a pitcher’s focus on a 3-2 count.  I saw some left-to-right break, and played the putt accordingly.  The ball hung out wide, then curved back towards the hole to complete its destiny.  I could feel a Tiger Woods Fist Pump coming.  But then, one foot out, the ball buckled right, horseshoed around the hole, and lipped out.  HOW. DID THAT NOT. GO IN.

Straggling to the next tee, I could not get over the missed opportunity.  In a moment of doomsday self-prophecy, I told my dad “I guarantee, looking back after the round, that’s gonna be the defining moment that changed everything.” My tee shot: A hook right into the trees.

The good news? I found my ball.  The bad news?  It was under a huge oak tree, and unplayable.  Drop #1.  Breath in, breath out.  Or not.  I shanked my next shot left into the other tree line.  Au revoir, stupid little white ball.  So having to take another drop, I was sitting one, two, three, ah…four.  That’s right, sitting four on a Par 5 with about 200 yards to go.

My next shot actually went towards the green. Woohoo! But not on it.  I’d need another shot for that.  And finally, now on the green in six, I somehow carelessly banged a 15-foot putt close enough to finish it off with my next putt, for an EIGHT on the hole.  In golf circles, we call that a Snowman.  A Snowman is almost as dreaded to the golfer as snow on the ground itself.

It was time to refocus.  I was like a Deal or No Deal contestant who just lost his or her last big money case, desperately trying to assure themselves and the crowd saying “It’s okay. IT’S OKAY.   $1,000 is still great.” I’m just +3 now, no big deal.  I can just make a few birdies and be right back there, I told myself.  (As if birdies are just waiting to be had for a 10 handicapper in a downward spiral fit for an ESPN special of Sports History’s Greatest Blowups.)

Do I need to tell the rest?  You can see where this is going.  The rest of the round: Bogey, bogey, par, par, par — hey wait a minute, am I getting back on track? — er, no.  Another triple bogey on the way, this time for just a seven!  Small victories, people, small victories.  And so despite being Even through eight holes, I managed to play +9 thru the next 10 holes, and finish at 81 for the round.

Moral of the story?  If you haven’t yet, don’t take up golf — it will mess with your mind in ways you didn’t think possible.  Seriously, just don’t.  Take up a sport or hobby that won’t make you want to throw your clubs into the pond, or worse, feel like taking the club to whatever (or whoever) is closest to you.  I know several people who were decent golfers, tried to raise their game with a lesson or two, only to get much worse.  In fact, it took me six months to recover from a hideous unintended swing change I made after some lessons a few years back.  So I’ll say this: if you like doing things where you’re good one day and terrible the next, regardless of how much practice you put into it — then this game is for you!

Epilogue: two days later I was back on the course.  I chipped in from off the green for a birdie…which was nice.  “Those are the shots that keep us coming back, aren’t they,” my playing partner said.  Yep.  The minute you think you have everything figured out, you’re ruthlessly put in your place.  And when you’re ready to give up, you hit a miracle 40-foot putt and start the process all over.

The golf gods giveth, and they taketh away.  And thus summarizes the love/hate relationship between man and golf ball, and maybe even life itself.

Dirk Hoyle stood only 5 10″, but strutted like he was a foot taller.  His Special Forces and bodybuilding days were well behind him, but hand him a spear and shield and he would’ve fit right in as one of King Leonidas’ 300.  Now 34, he clinged to a youthful cool image — usually dressed in surfer shorts, a tank top that tugged to his bulging muscles, and designer sunglasses flipped over his short bleached blond hair.  Few could get away with the look, but he did.

The first two weeks of training were hell — I was like some out of place Marine recruit two days into basic training who went from Ooh Rah! to WHAT DID I SIGN UP FOR.  My soft 14 year-old body weathered unheard of fatigue and pain.  Dirk’s favorite torture method for me was military calisthenics — a simple, yet demanding series of exercises that don’t involve any weights or machines.  The worst of them were these double push-ups with about six different steps to complete just ONE.  So doing five was

tough.  Ten?  Brutal.  Hey JJ, how about you do FOUR sets of FIFTEEN?  That bastard.  But this is what we did every day — calisthenics, lunges, stair stepping, running, and weight lifting every area of the body — a regimen fit for The Biggest Loser.

These days were temporarily behind me.

And my diet?  A max of 1700 calories a day, consisting mostly of protein bars, meal replacements, fruit, vegetables, and egg whites.  No more wolfing down chimichangas and Hot Pockets as after lunch snacks.  Somehow, despite this system-shock and initial struggle, I remained motivated to stick it out and get in shape.

July became August, then September, and training continued as the school year started.  The pounds were melting off, and he was beating up on me as usual.  Putting the water bottle Dirk always carried to good use, he’d occasionally douse me with it whenever he felt like, as if I was some pesky fire t

hat needed to be put out.  “Three more reps,” he would say towards the end of a long set.  And countdown: “3, 2, 1—, 2, 1, 1, 1,” extending the ‘three more’ into seven or eight.  SCREW YOU! I’d gasp, after doing more than double of what was expected.

Ah, but it was good for me.  By the time the November tryouts finally rolled around, I had lost 40 pounds, and more than half my body fat.  The miracle was pulled off, and I easily made the hoops squad.

We continued working together off and on for the next year or so.  Quickly after, we lost touch.  I do wonder sometimes what Dirk is up to; whether he’s toughening up a new fat kid, or in the mountains of Afghanistan hunting down the remnants of the Taliban.

Regardless, just about everything I’ve ever learned about diet and exercise, I learned from him (among other things, like how to handle an AK-47, or choke someone out, but I digress.)  And I’ve needed it, as I’ve gone on three or four long term major diet and exercise programs since (where do you think all that bacon goes?).   And using the methods I learned from him, I’ve seamlessly lost the weight and reached my goals.  Without getting into details of different exercises, it’s no more complicated than this: I try burn more calories than I eat, and boost my metabolism by combining many small meals with exercise.  It’s hard work, but completely fail proof.

1. Write.
2. Write more.
3. Write even more.
4. Write even more than that.
5. Write when you don’t want to.
6. Write when you do.
7. Write when you have something to say.
8. Write when you don’t.
9. Write every day.
10. Keep writing.

Obviously, writers are readers too; they also analyze and study their craft, in a continual growing process.  But the point here is valid that the best way to improve your writing is to write.   Especially starting out, it’s vital to break through the initial block by forcing yourself to just do it, and hopefully Newton’s law of inertia will take over from there.  But it really does get easier.

To remix Frost: Writing is a hydrant in the yard and good writing is a faucet upstairs in the house.  Opening the first takes all the pressure off the second.

Rest of the world, take notice: America can play (and beat you at) your game.  It can’t be denied any longer.  For a U.S. soccer fan like me and many others, this is the day we’ve been longing for.  Finally, in a major competition with the world watching, we show what we’re capable of and topple a major power.

While the U.S. has beaten elite teams before — #1 ranked Brazil over a decade ago and England over 50 years ago, for example — this is different.  No one really paid much attention then.  But with growing popularity and with the 24/7 media frenzy we now live in, a win like this will reverberate all across the internet, TV, radio, and elsewhere forcing casual sports fans and even soccer haters to take notice.  Those on the fence, maybe disappointed with the ‘06 WC showing, will have a new reason to get excited and support U.S soccer.

If the team keeps playing well and puts in epic performances like this, it will be able to do what Pele, David Beckham, and everyone else before them couldn’t — make soccer a mainstream, popular sport in America.  No doubt it has made great strides over the years, especially in the last decade.  But it’s a shame it isn’t bigger, because the ‘world’s game’ is the only meaningful, truly competitive professional sport played internationally.

In other countries, save for the occasional special event (for example, Wimbledon and the British Open for the UK), soccer is IT.   Nothing else in sports really matters.  But America has football, baseball, basketball, hockey, NASCAR, golf — among other smaller niche sports — all competing for the sports fan’s limited time and attention.   Then you add in the collegiate and high school levels, it’s not hard to understand why a soccer culture hasn’t broken into the mainstream.

Most of the sports media have definitely done their part in keeping it that way.  The bloviating gasbags on TV, radio, and the sports page would rather comment on Terrell Owens getting kicked off a reality show and some random baseball player’s post-game comments than ever substantively discuss soccer.  And the 2 seconds they do spend on the sport is often the predictable condescending mockery of how boring, stupid, and wussy it is in their diluted world where football, baseball, and basketball are the only sports that exist.

But being born and raised loving American sports, too, I think there’s definitely room for soccer, especially on the international level.  I’ve been to NCAA Final Fours, NBA playoffs games, big football and hockey games, and rarely miss a major event in ANY sport on TV…and nothing compares to the passion, excitement, drama, and emotion I feel from a big U.S. soccer match.  Only the Olympics come anywhere close, but even that pales in comparison.

To many, soccer (football) is so much more than a game.  It’s a culture, a religion, a life.  They live and die off of every corner kick, every save, every shot.  But you don’t even have to like soccer to be filled with pride for your country as your national team takes the field to represent the US of A, in the biggest competitions in the biggest sport in the world.

And finally, I have a few words for these dinosaurs in the media, and haters everywhere: This is only the beginning.  Soccer in America is here to stay and is only going to get bigger.  So while you sit back and bash it, the rest of us will be cheering on the Stars and Stripes as they become a world soccer power.  Hell, maybe even bring home the world cup one of these years; I bet then you’ll probably jump right on the bandwagon.  But for now, as you sneeringly predicted we were going to get thrashed and embarrassed by Spain today: Shut up and eat your plate of crow.

Don’t tread on me.

Are they ecological warriors or disruptive criminals? That’s the question many are asking themselves of the activists on Animal Planet’s hit show Whale Wars.  Just entering its second season, this reality show documents the high-seas adventures of members of the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society in their zealous quest to find and stop Japanese whalers.  Any means necessary are used to sabotage the whalers, as the Sea Shepherds hurl toxic butyric acid and ’slippery bombs’ at their adversaries, sometimes try to climb on board like pirates, and have even collided with the Japanese ships.  Cameramen capture every move of the 30-plus, mostly volunteer band of bleeding-heart misfits aboard the MV Steve Irwin.  As the ship travails the vast and volatile seas of the Antarctic searching for the proverbial needle in the haystack — icebergs, rogue waves, or accidents can strike at any moment that would leave the team helpless to the elements.

So what’s not to love?  Indeed the harsh environment, eclectic crew, and dramatic hunt and clash with the Japanese whaling fleet makes for compelling, edge of your seat television.  On strictly an entertainment and production level, it’s quite good.  Something also can be said about the undying commitment (to a fault) of these activists, and their willingness to put everything on the line for their seemingly noble cause.  You can’t help but root for them; after all, who wants to see these lovable creatures senselessly harpooned to death?

But the black-and-white picture represented is hardly an accurate portrayal of the situation.  Let’s look at some of the facts:

• Commercial whaling was mostly banned by a moratorium in 1982 by the International Whaling Commission (IWC), the governing body on whaling.¹ The few countries that do object to the moratorium, in accordance with the IWC legitimately hunt a limited number of whales per year (the largest quota being Japan’s 950).  What the Japanese whalers are doing is not illegal, and the whaling done today is hardly a fraction of what was done decades (let alone centuries) ago.²
• Most whale species are very healthy in numbers, with only two on the mammal top 100 endangered species list.³ Neither of which are the minke, the main type the Japanese whalers hunt.
• Assessing a population of whales is naturally difficult.  But the minke population is estimated at nearly a million worldwide, with over 700,000 alone in the Southern Hemisphere around the Antarctic.⁴ A relatively fast reproducer, the number of minke should be increasing by at least 10% each year.
• Of that 700,000, the Japanese have set a quota of culling about 950 whales a year.⁵ They claim to be doing so for scientific research and collection of data, in strict accordance with IWC law.  Anti-whalers claim this is a lie to justify continuing commercial whaling.
• And recently, with whale populations rebounding to healthy numbers, an increasing number of countries support ending the moratorium on whaling .⁶

In light of all this, it’s hard to understand the reasoning behind forty people (with millions of dollars in backing) literally risking their lives to save .1% of one of the most healthy populated whale species on the planet.  And with what I’ve seen, I’m surprised they’ve managed to avoid killing themselves.  So who exactly are these activists?

Initially, they come across reasonable and even likable on screen, that is until you realize what a comically incompetent, pathetic band of eco-nuts they really are.  From the IWC to the Canadian government, the Sea Shepherds have been widely condemned and branded as eco-terrorists.⁷Founder and captain Paul Watson, so radical Green Peace kicked him out, is on the record with gems like:

We should never feel like we’re going too far in breaking the law, because whatever laws you break to liberate animals or to protect the environment are very insignificant.

and

“There are 30-million plus species on this planet. They’re all earthlings. They’re all equal. Some are more “equal” than others, I admit: earthworms are far more valuable than people.”⁸

The controversial actions of the Sea Shepherds are all ready showing signs of backlash, making it a real possibility that they’re doing more harm than good.  They have “unfortunately united Japan against the anti-whaling movement,” according to activist Naoko Funahashi.  And in response to the disruptive tactics of the SS, the Japanese government has tripled funding for whaling, and has taken stronger steps in defending the whaling vessels.⁹

Moreover, Watson’s poor leadership and seamanship constantly puts his crew in harms way, and has many mariners calling him a disgrace.  So while it’s very entertaining to watch a group of fanatical ideologues storm out to sea to try to save the world — led by an arrogant no nothing captain, an untrained and inexperienced crew that knows even less, aboard an old ship that has no business being in the Antarctic — this travesty could easily lead to tragedy.

Just in the first two episodes of this season: the first mate couldn’t read a compass and nearly navigated the ship into an iceberg; the captain thought it was wise to wait out a storm next to a massive iceberg (waking up the next day to a field of ice surrounding the ship); without proper practice, the crew struggled to get a zodiac in the water to pursue the fleeing whalers (and while finally in pursuit, those on the zodiac went way off course, got lost, and abruptly stopped communication, leaving the crew aboard the Steve Irwin thinking they were lost at sea).

So what to make of all this?  In summary, the whales are fine.  (So is the planet, by the way.)  The activists trying to “save” them aren’t doing much other than entertaining viewers and showing how not to run a ship and how not to successfully further your cause.  So while I don’t support what they’re doing, it’s an interesting show that I will continue to watch.

If only for amusement, and to see what crazy thing they do next…and if they survive it.

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Grading the Big Three

Aside from the showcase of the best upcoming video games, E3 is all about the “Big Three” in the game industry (Microsoft, Sony, and Nintendo), and what they have planned for the future.  All three typically have a commanding presence at the conference, and try to one-up each other with the biggest reveals of new products in the works.  My analysis:

Microsoft:

Far and away, the prominent story coming out of E3 is Microsoft’s announcement of a controller-less, 3D body-detecting system dubbed ‘Project Natal.’   This Wii-killer has the technology that was before only imagined, seen on the big screen in movies like Minority Report.  I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say this tech may not only change the way we get entertainment, but the way we live.  If you haven’t already, check out some of what it can do:

Naturally, some are skeptic that it can really do what is being represented in these demos. Early hands-on reports say yes, it can indeed.

Aside from that, Microsoft had a very solid showing, so much so that I may have still considered it the best without Natal.  They announced several new developments for Xbox Live (like the incorporation of social media sites Facebook and Twitter), and unveiled a slew of exclusive console games to Xbox 360.  These include some of the most high-profile and best games shown at the expo: Forza Motorsport 3, Alan Wake, Left 4 Dead 2, Halo ODST, Mass Effect 2, and Splinter Cell Conviction.  Microsoft won E3, hands down. Grade: A

Sony:

Sony’s prototype of a Wii-like remote was almost embarrassing in light of Natal.  But not to be totally outdone, Sony and the PS3 had its share of exclusive, big-time games as well.  The group of God of War III, Uncharted 2, Heavy Rain, The Last Guardian, Gran Turismo 5, and MAG can be confidently put up against any.  Add some good looking games for the PSP, and I’d say Sony had an impressive showing. Grade: B

Nintendo:

While Microsoft announced Project Natal, Sony also a new motion-censored controller, and both companies having a huge slate of major new games coming soon, Nintendo came out with…um…I’m not sure.  I guess when you have the most popular console that rakes in most casual players with Wii Fit and the like, you don’t feel like you need to showcase much to a more hard-core gaming audience.  Something tells me they’ll be a little more urgent as the playing field changes.  But as it stands today, Grade: C-

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Top Games:

• Alan Wake –
• Assassin’s Creed 2 –
• Heavy Rain –
• Modern Warfare 2 –
• Forza Motorsport 3 — BEST OF SHOW –

This gamer’s Christmas has come and gone this June, but won’t soon be forgotten.  I’m talking about E3 (Electronic Entertainment Expo), the premiere annual showcase of video games and technology by the biggest names in the industry, from Microsoft to Ubisoft.

Forgotten is the criticism of E3 losing its luster, because this year’s show was a stunning display of innovation and can’t-miss games, from the announcement of Project Natal to the premiere of Alan Wake.  Some of the highlights:

Best Trailer: Star Wars: The Old Republic

Star Wars fans are probably wishing the newer movies were more like this:

Best Demo: Modern Warfare 2

We got our first look at this highly anticipated sequel in a trailer just a few weeks ago, and now some sick, extended game play:

Biggest Disappointments:

• Halo ODST — Seems like more of the same, except instead of playing as a Spartan super-soldier you’re the Halo version of a redshirt.
• Gran Turismo 5 — Not only does Forza 3 look like the superior game, it’s actually coming out this year.  Is this game ever going to get finished?

Honorable Mention Games:

• Splinter Cell: Conviction — Sam Fisher is back…and this time it’s personal, in this kickass 24-like stealth action game from Tom Clancy.
• Red Steele 2 — One of the few highlights for the Wii; this artistic, sword-swinging action sequel looks great.
• Uncharted 2 — A vibrant universe comes alive in this adventure shooter.
• Fight Night Round 4 — Promised to have vastly improved gameplay from Round 3, which was a fighting game in its own right.

—–

Part 2 on the way, with a review of the Big Three and my pick for Best of Show.

It’s also suggested that I find a niche, and stick with it to build an audience.  That’s probably sound advice, but I’m not going to.  Yes, I’m a writer currently specializing in copywriting, but who really wants to read about that?  Other copywriters or aspiring ones, sure, but that’s very limiting, and there’s enough on the subject out there to fill ten hot air balloons.

So what am I going to blog about, then?  Whatever my ADD-ridden, crazy beautiful mind lands on.  From TV/movie reviews to commentary on current events to philosophies on life — and everything in between — I’m as open as a 7-Eleven.