Enough Already. Just Stop.

I am hesitant to even mention his name because we've been innundated by media every day since MJ died a few days ago.

Enough. Please, just stop. I don't care. Do we need to know every minute detail of the events following his death? No. Does MSNBC need to show his covered body being transferred from the ambulance to another on its way to the morgue? NO. Do I care who gets his kids? NO. Do I care if his family wants another autopsy? NO.

We, as a collective society seem to have a case of short term memory loss. In 2005 the man was accused (People v. Jackson, 2005) of 4 counts of molesting a child, 4 counts of intoxication and one count of child abduction. Yes, the case was settled out of court...but still, suspicions linger. In 2003 MJ was charged with seven counts of child molestation and one count of administrating an intoxicating agent. Again, he was found not guilty. But still....suspicions linger. Why would a child lie about such horrible violations?

So, dear, media....my message to you: stop canonizing him. There are folks--like me--out there who haven't forgotten what he was accused/charged of...and no matter what music he created, or how much money he donated to charitable organizations, in my eyes, he's guilty and a pedophile.

Crosby Is No Yzerman

In an article for USA Today Jacques Demers compares Sidney Crosby to Steve Yzerman:

    There are a lot of comparisons between the players. Just look at the unselfish play that Crosby made at the end of Game 4 of the Eastern Conference finals when he passed up an opportunity to score into an open net and gave the puck to Craig Adams instead. He's showing a lot of leadership, as Yzerman did. Both players also have exceptional offensive talent. (USA Today, online, 5.28.09).

I couldn't disagree more.

No, I don't know Stevie Y. I never coached him, nor played alongside him, but I think I have learned enough about him through interviews, watching him play and his retirement speech to say, with full confidence: Crosby couldn't carry Yzerman's jock.

As Mitch Albom once said, (paraphrasing here) Steve Yzerman is the only captain where one capitalizes "The" in front of Captain.

Yzerman was a silent hero. He epitomized grace, selflessness, pure skill, talent and most of all, sportsmanship. Because, yes, anyone can be captain, but one of the qualities that coaches look for besides skill is *sportsmanship* (Pssst, Sidney, look it up.). Watch Yzerman's retirement speech online. Listen to Scotty Bowman, man of few words heap praise on Steve. Yzerman always deflected the shower of praise he was given and rather owed his indebtedness to his coaches, his teammates and the Illitch family for taking him in and giving him a home and trusting in his abilities as a player and a person to be the Red Wings' leader.

"All I did was go out there and play like every one of those players did..." (Steve Yzerman, retirement ceremony, 1.2.07).

The Captain didn't whine, didn't fake dive, and he wasn't a dirty player who gave cheap shots and cross checks to his opponents. Yzerman respected his teammates, the sport of hockey, but most of all, he respected his opponents, something that Crosby fails (failed) to do. (A side note, where was Crosby in the handshake line after the Pens beat the Wings last Friday? Lindstrom [another quiet hero and and excellent captain] stood there at the front of the line waiting for him for what seemed an eternity.

Yzerman was and is the epitome of class. He is a pure gentleman. I have yet to see that in Sidney. Yes, Sidney has skill and talent, but it takes much, much more to be a captain.

The job of a NHL captain is to lead by example. If the example is one that Sidney Crosby* is setting, then the Pens and hockey are in trouble.

I....

was running early one morning awhile back and I caught a glimpse of my old self.

And I liked it.

Separation Anxiety...

My mom, or, ma, is a few states away. But I still need her and miss her sometimes....

An ode to moms--a belated Mother's Day.

Sometimes...you just want your mom.

If you were lucky, she comforted you when you felt like shit, no questions asked.

If you were lucky, she helped you see things clearly.

If you were lucky, she kicked your ass when you needed it (you know what I'm talking about).

If you were lucky, she held your hand and told you it'd be "okay" and that you could do it...

If you were lucky, she calmed you by rubbing your head when you had a nightmare.

If you were lucky, she stood back and let you become the person you should be.

If you were lucky, she still lets you call her "ma."

You are lucky---she is your mother and always will be.

best song to run to. ever.

Selecting the right music while running is important, well, to those of us who actually listen to music while running it is vital (I am one of those people who falls into that category). Time signature, tempo, voice(s), softness, loud guitars, no guitars, are all determining factors of what I want to hear while running. My mood is also a deciding factor. Sometimes I want quiet, so I'll listen to Gillian Welch's "Red Clay Halo." If I want loud and hard, superchunk's "On the Mouth," fugazi's "Guilford Fall," AC/DC's "Back in Black," or "You Shook Me All Night Long" all do the trick. If I want cool, Bobby Womack's "Across 110th Street" works perfectly. The type of song also has to fit with where I am in my run: beginning, middle, final stretch. For example, I really don't want to hear something mellow when I'm struggling to finish my run, I want something to motivate me to push on through.

There's one epic song that covers all the moods and points in my run: Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." It's five minutes and fifty-five seconds of pure awesome-ness*. When it came out in 1975 on Queen's "A Night at the Opera," it sounded like nothing else out there on the radio. Ever since I first heard the song when I was a kid I've loved it. I might not have totally understood the meaning of the lyrics, but I was in total awe of Freddie Mercury and Brian May (I was never fortunate enough to see Queen live though). So, the song has always been with me in some form or another. It's now in current rotation on my iPod shuffle, and I've been known to sing along at any given time during the song. I'm sure I must sound pretty terrible to those who are unfortunate enough to be passing by me when I'm listening to the song. But who cares, right? I maintain it is THE perfect song to run, or to workout to.

The song changes six times. Yes. Six.**

Beginning: four part harmony, a cappella.
"Is this the real life, is this just fantasy...."
Then, the piano travels from one headphone to the other and is just quiet enough for me to hear my breathing and my feet hitting the asphalt. I can still hear cars as they speed by, but they don't detract from my focus.
...
Next: Ballad. You hear Freddie and a piano. Still quiet, but not so much to put me to sleep or to make me lose motivation. It's as if I'm listening to Mercury tell me a story...a sad, confessional one at that. "Mama...just killed a man..."
...
Next: Guitar solo. The intensity of Freddie's voice increases...
"Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth....I sometimes wished I'd never been born at all..."
My pace will usually pick up at this point.
...
Next: Opera.
(Seriously, how can I [or anyone for that matter??] not sing along to this part of the song? It has always been cool, WAY before Mike Meyer's and Dana Carvey brought it back in "Wayne's World.")
plunky piano,
(I'm bouncing down the trail....can you see me go?)

"I see a little silhouetto of a man..."

my pace picks up again with this part of the song.

"...thunder bolts and lightning...very, very frightening..."

Voices are going back and forth between the headphones....me singing one of the parts.
"I'm just a poor boy...nobody loves me..."

As I run, my mind fills with visions of this tremendously elaborately staged opera.

Crescendo again....
...
Next: Hard Rock part, more guitar.
I feel aggressive and totally energized listening to Freddie's claims towards someone who's been abusive and betrayed him.

"So you think you can love me and leave me to die?"

Brian May's guitar....screams and is accusatory. If I'm not by now, I'm at my working heart rate. Focused. I bound over busted cracks in the pavement.
...
Ending. May's guitar is mellow. Piano chimes in again. Then the song goes back to how it sounded in the beginning. Somewhat sad...if you've seen the video of Queen performing the song live, you see Freddie sitting at the piano...

"Nothing really matters...anyone can see....nothing really matters...to me."

Again, I'm singing along quietly. I'm not overcome with sadness at this point, even though, if I weren't running, I just might be.

The song leaves me feeling fulfilled and energized.

"Any way the wind blows....."

*Gong*
...

Fin.

If you haven't listened to "Bohemian Rhapsody" in awhile, or you're just not a fan of Queen (poor you, because you're really missing out on their collective genius)....go back to it.

Freddie, Brian, Roger and John just might motivate you to run.


*If Freddie were alive...I think he might approve of this description.
** I'm no musical scholar who has endlessly studied this song, these are just my thoughts as to how the song affects me.

***Lyrics, Mercury, 1975.