Mark McIntosh's Blog, page 24

Pep Talk: "A Powerful Concoction"

The two hotties sitting across from your humble scribe and another man, leaned in intently as it was suggested, “Back in the day, we called you, The Hot Pants’ crew.”
The sarcastic remark didn’t faze the ladies - our mothers - one bit. They came back with an equal amount of good-natured needling. All this thoroughly enjoyable banter went down on a Saturday afternoon at a well-frequented gathering spot in suburban Kansas City. My home town. 
Bob Dernier, former big-league outfielder, contributor to the radio show and life-long friend, winked at me, and joked, “They’re like Kobe Bryant. You can’t control them. You just gotta try and contain them.”
Amen to that buddy.
What a reunion. What was supposed to be, perhaps, an hour lunch turned into almost three hours of laughing and remembering the good ol’ days of Raytown, Missouri. Where Bob and I grew up playing sports together with a bunch of other guys now in our mid 50‘s. It’s hard to fathom IHOP now had special deals for dudes my age.
We’ve all been knocked around a bit since then. Been to the penthouse and outhouse a few times when it comes to physical, emotional and financial setbacks that seem to frequently interrupt our best laid plans. Ever been there? Sure you have.
Dernier played ten years in the big leagues with the Philadelphia Phillies and Chicago Cubs. The father and grandpa was a Gold Glove winner back in 1984 when the hard-luck Cubs won the National League East title and almost made it to the World Series. He’s been involved with the game ever since retiring.
As we treated our mothers to lunch and chatted about the old times, it became crystal clear how lucky we were to grow up in a fantastic community like Raytown. A suburb of Kansas City on the east side of the metropolitan area.
Wherever we went as kids, we were always encouraged to chase dreams. Our dreams mainly revolved around athletics. Nobody fostered those dreams more than the two lunch guests who giggled like school girls as they caught up for the first time in, oh, probably 35-40 years.
Patsy and Jean should have their own reality television show. Each is approaching 80 years of age and are hilarious together. Bobby D cracked off another good one with, “If we have Anderson Cooper 360, you could call it, ‘Patsy and Jean 160!’”
All the practices and games to attend and sports laundry to wash. Our mothers were at ground zero of a sports-crazy world. Perhaps it’s no surprise Raytown is near the Truman Sports Complex, home to Kansas City’s football and baseball teams, the Chiefs and Royals respectively.
As youngsters, wherever we roamed, parents, teachers, coaches and the parents of our teammates, constantly reminded us of the importance of working hard, making healthy choices and showing respect for one another. It was the way we were raised. Marinating in that type of healthy and productive culture has never left me. For that I’m very grateful.
Life moved on, parents divorced. Moms became part of the earlier-referenced “Hot Pants” crew. Athletic dreams were realized at certain levels and then terminated for a variety of reasons, from head injuries to hamstrings. One-time young kids who chased athletic dreams, became adults, married, had children and divorced themselves.
The unexpected and unwanted twists and turns of life have taken the four people present at the luncheon on journeys none would have imagined long ago during those formative years of the 1970’s.
But there we were after all these years, together. Laughing. Joyful. Jean joked about one of her favorite hobbies this days, visiting the casinos that dot the landscape along the Missouri River: “There’s nothing quite like hitting ‘Jackpot’ at the casinos. It’s better than sex.”
Don’t know about that but this much I do know: Bobby Dernier and I benefitted greatly from growing up in a community that cared for us. Perhaps Hillary Clinton was correct in writing the book, “It Takes A Village.” The community of Raytown, - parents, coaches, teachers and others - loved, encouraged and supported the dreams and endeavors of its youth.
This week, wherever - home, work and elsewhere - attempting to help someone thrive and grow, let’s start with those three key ingredients. Love them. Encourage them. Support them. 
Love. Encouragement. Support. Unlike hot pants, a powerful concoction that never goes out of style.

Pep Talk: "Admire and Emulate"

At a wonderful summer barbecue celebrating family and the nation’s birthday, a dear friend’s sharp-as-a-whip octogenarian mother declared, “We don’t celebrate Independence Day properly anymore.” There are many who would probably agree, but I did bring up, as an example of trying to honor the occasion with dignity and respect, what goes down every Fourth of July in Vail, Colorado.
In the gorgeous mountain town, only a 90-minute drive from the Mile High City, the day starts with a parade, then a patriotic concert and fireworks. Much is mentioned throughout the day to the courage and sacrifices of those who had the guts to start a new nation based upon liberty and justice for all. Those are lofty goals. Goals to admire for sure.
My favorite part of the day is the concert at the beautiful Gerald R. Ford Amphitheater. There a visiting philharmonic orchestra, usually Dallas’, plays patriotic music that stirs the soul of the flag-waving throng. One of my favorites is the Armed Forces Song Medley. The conductor takes the musicians through snippets of the five military branch hymns. Powerful.
One by one - Army, Marine, Air Force, Navy and Coast Guard - veterans stand and are exalted for their service in protecting the freedoms our founding fathers envisioned. War is hell but hey, these folks stood in harm’s way and I will forever be grateful. My father was a Marine, all my uncles served in various branches. Between waving my flag and fighting back tears of gratitude, I try and shake the hands of every veteran sitting close as an outward sign of admiration.
What do we admire in life? Who do we admire in life? What are the qualities we admire? Are they healthy and productive? Do they honor, nurture and add value to the communities we serve - home, work and elsewhere?
It makes me think of my golf shirts. I rarely, darn it, play golf these days, but when running around town running errands or working the in the yard, this simple dude from Missouri usually  has on a golf shirt. Yep. They’re outward visible signs of those I admire.
For instance, I’ve got red one from the Colorado State University-Pueblo football team. I admire that team - coaches, staff and players. It’s led by John Wristen. The CSU-Pueblo story is an inspiring one.
Wristen, who grew up in Pueblo and starred at quarterback (1980-83) for what was then called the University of Southern Colorado, returned six years ago to restart the football program. It had been abandoned in 1984. One year after his days at the school’s star quarterback.
With no staff, no players and only one year to figure it out, Wristen went to work. The former CU, Northwestern and UCLA assistant coach has excelled in recruiting quality assistants, staff and players and created a powerhouse in Pueblo. The gregarious Wristen deflects praise with, “Hey, I surround myself with people smarter than me and go to work each day encouraging these young men to become superior to their former selves. On and off the field.” 
I admire what that program represents. In my Vail hotel closet for the week of hiking, biking, tubing and other fun stuff with darling fiancee and other loved ones, was a Thunderwolves’ golf shirt. It was worn often. Hanging nearby and also worn frequently, a comfy blue shirt from Lousiana College and a white shirt from the University of Colorado. Thanks Vance Morris for the former and all the Buffs for the latter.
Golf shirts in a closet. Hand shakes at a concert. Visible expressions of, at least for me, men, women and groups to admire. The verb defined as “To regard highly because of excellence.”
This week, look around and notice those to admire. What do they exude? Joy? Optimism? Courage? Self Control? Perseverance? A long list of other good stuff?
More important than identifying quality traits in others is emulating them in our lives. Yep. Emulate, defined as “to try and do as well or better than” is real easy to talk about, far more difficult to execute. Simple, not easy.
This week when the going gets tough, throw on a favorite shirt, shake a hand. Admire, emulate and ya know, see what happens.
Good luck!

Pep Talk: "Tend to the Gardens"

In the cherished role of facility manager, the writer of this Pep Talk takes great pride in tending to the gardens. The patio area of our town home is this simple dude from Missouri’s playground. Not a weekend passes without darling fiancee, usually somewhat sarcastically, wondering, “What did you get at Home Depot today?”
Guilty as charged.
Tending to the gardens. At least within this venue, revolves around daily watering, pruning, trimming and a special Miracle Gro bath each Sunday. Yep. Blame it on keeping in touch with my feminine side, I dig creating gardens with lots of colorful flowers. I think the passion to create and tend gardens comes from growing up in Kansas City, Missouri and attending many games at the city’s Municipal Stadium. 
Legendary turf master George Toma was the groundskeeper of a place that no longer exists. Plowed under years ago. But for a young and impressionable sports fanatic from suburban Raytown, the manicured field, and its surrounding areas, was magical. It was home to the Chiefs, Athletics before moving to Oakland, and Royals. Sitting in those stands, staring at that beautiful field and dreaming about playing on such surfaces occupied a bunch of my thinking back then.
Little did I know at that time but life would have other plans. Rarely goes as planned, right? So, for whatever reason, I blame sports and wanting to play on beautiful surfaces for laboring to produce good-looking gardens.
A recent early morning, while watering, I began to think about the important gardens of life. You know, those critical areas, could call them venues I guess, where consistent and wise tendering most often, not always, seems to help us achieve goals and overcome challenges? Let’s see, where to start? How about our homes? What about the workplace? Neighborhood? School? Business District? Service Club? Athletic department? Non profit? The list is lengthy.
Are we tending to the gardens? Often, despite trying like heck to be Toma-like in caring, our best efforts fall short. We’re left disappointed at the outcome. The garden, a marriage, business endeavor or something else, has fallen short of expectations. Flowers wilt and grasses brown. What to do?
We keep tending to the gardens, hoping like heck, diligence in watering, trimming, pruning and fertilizing will restore luster. It makes me think of parenting. With kids of 23 and 16 respectively, the tending is more a prayer right now. A prayer the soil, where these two incredible humans sprouted roots, provided, and continues to provide, optimum nutrients to survive the droughts and storms of life.
Raising responsible kids is an important garden to tender. A friend just the other day was talking about one of his kids, now in their mid 20’s. “We had some tough years through high school and early college,” admitted the successful business owner. “But we kept loving and encouraging her. She figured it out eventually.”
Another wonderful couple comes to mind about tending to gardens. Their daughter, more than two decades ago, was born with Down’s Syndrome. One of my best childhood buddies, and his fabulous wife, kept watering, fertilizing and pruning a beautiful daughter who has grown into a Special Olympics swimming sensation. Admirable.
As I shifted to pruning roses and admiring some primed to blossom, the lesson pricked me like the ever-present thorns: Despite the unwanted stuff life likes to toss our way, when least expected or wanted, we gotta keep tending to the gardens.
While there is no guarantee of success, if this scribe’s facilities management skills are any example, tending the garden does produce some very cool visuals. Smell good too.
Yes, it takes time, effort and patience. Most worthwhile things in life do require such qualities. Let’s exhibit them in megadoses this week. Tend the gardens. Wherever roaming - home, work and elsewhere. Who knows, they just might blossom.

Pep Talk: "Emulating Marla's Spirit"

Billy Joel’s playing on the Ipod. The Rockies, in the nation’s capitol, against the Nationals are finally leading a game. Your grateful scribe’s hunkered down in the man cave firing off an email. The electronic message talks of an outstanding young man who desires to work in the sports world on the business side.
Victory has many connections in that arena and I was reaching out to one. A fine gentleman and good guy at the University of Colorado. The email ended with, “This kid’s a chip off the block of one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met.”
Daily, on a sports talk radio show, co-host Eric Goodman and I constantly yak about athletes and coaches who display, “Incredible guts and courage.” For what? Making a good shot? Stepping away from the game when its time? Whatever? We exalt them for putting fear aside and allowing wonderment to win. Along with criticism, we praise.
Lebron James is darn good, no question. Same for all the other sports’ superstars discussed with each other and callers to the show. But, when it comes to having someone on my team I know will endure through the tough times? Make the big play under pressure? My lottery pick is Marla Jane Swanson. 
Yep. She went to Mizzou. So did I. Love the place. The University of Missouri graduate also earned a teaching degree from the University of Denver. Smart. Beautiful. Strong. Unwavering in faith. She’s been fighting tongue cancer for the past few years. It’s been a war. Marla won it. 
When first learning of the cancer, the mother of two incredible kids - daughter just as awesome as mentioned son - was told by doctors, “You’re best chance of whipping this is to surgically remove a chunk of your tongue.” The founder of the WilLiv Organization, it helps single moms with their challenges when dad walks out, countered with, “Can I think about that? Pray about that? Call you in the morning?”
The licensed practitioner of Religious Science took a different path. No surgery. Instead, wonderful care from oncologists in Denver and Houston, spiritual healers around the globe and a faith-based community originating in her local church and spreading far beyond. Marla says, “I have people, literally, all over the world praying for me.” 
The multi-faceted cancer-fighting formula worked. Recently, friends, family, care providers and others gathered to salute the darling woman’s health prognosis: She’s cancer free.
The road ahead still has many obstacles. The cancer’s gone but the rebuilding will take time. A war against cancer, featuring gene-targeted therapies, low dose chemotherapy and faith has been won. However, there are battle scars. Healing will take time, patience and further resolve. If fighting cancer wasn’t enough, she suffered a broken hip recently. Lots of chemotherapy and radiation make bones brittle and vulnerable.
Through all the physical and financial - lost her home financing the fight - turmoil raging, one thing never wavered. Her faith in surviving. 
I first met this dynamo many years ago and have always been impressed with her spirit. She’s tough to rattle. Love, respect and hope ooze from Marla’s pores. One of my favorite moments recently was, while dressed in nothing but a cowboy hat, boots and Speedo, escorting Marla on a walk around Lakewood’s Belmar area. Many other great folks joined us that evening for an event hosted by Wystone’s Teas. We raised some money to offset Marla’s considerable medical expenses and, we certainly hope, Marla and the kids’ spirits. 
Knowing others are rooting for you is rarely a bad thing, right?
Anyway, back to Marla. As we warmly embraced the other night, my mind wandered to, why? What is it about some folks who seem to endure, persevere, hang tough or whatever else you want to call it? Those folks who, despite great adversity, turn lemons into margaritas?  Wow, possessing the answer to that question and then packing, distributing and selling it might allow one to give Bill Gates a run for his money. What was it about Marla Swanson that powered turn back cancer’s aggressive march? Smart doctors and effective care for sure. Good fortune too. But I don’t think you can dismiss Marla’s spirit.
Every time we talked and prayed during this rough stretch, the former parole officer with a nickname of “Hard Rock,” would proclaim resolutely,  “I’m gonna whip this.”  Let it be a lesson for each of us. When the future prognosis is dire, what are we going to do? When the doctor says cancer, the spouse says divorce, the boss says adios or someone, or something, throws a monkey wrench into our best laid plans, what’s our reaction? Student or victim? Learn, or suffer, from the experience? It’s our choice. Choose wisely, K? Try like heck for the former.  Strategies for dealing with adversity will vary but, most of the time, one thing must be present: A belief we’ll survive, live for another day and, eventually, thrive despite the battlefield scars - physical, emotional or financial.  Faith in self. Faith in a higher power. Faith in something. If ever summoned to a court of law to present proof of faith playing a major role, attorneys should call Marla, looking resplendent the other night by the way, as first witness.  In a quiet moment among the jovial and adoring throng gathered in an apartment complex clubhouse, I asked, “How did you do this?” A beautiful soul softly offered, “My faith in God. My divine love for my precious children. Prayer. My church and extended family.” Amen sister.  This week, let’s take on the challenges of our lives in a way that, if a second witness was needed, we’d get the call. Be like marvelous Marla. Never waver in believing you can conquer whatever ails - home, work and elsewhere.  No guarantees of course, but it sure seems emulating Marla’s spirit gives us a fighting chance at victory and fun celebration parties.

Pep Talk: "Show The Way"

Father’s Day 2013. My mind wanders to my old man, two children and a darling fiancee.
History of the day for dads, and other fatherly figures, is interesting. It started in 1910, at a YMCA in Spokane, Washington. Not surprisingly, it was a woman who found it appropriate to honor men a year after Anne Jarvis’ creation of Mother’s Day. 
Sonora Smart Dodd, one of six kids raised by a single father, said, “What about the dads?” Father’s Day was born. The Arkansas native was raised by Civll War veteran, William Jackson Smart, and wanted to have the commemorative day on her father’s birthday, June 5. Somehow it was decided the third Sunday in June was best. 
Happy Father’s Day to all stepping into the role. We had a caller to Afternoon Drive the other day who honored his single mother for taking on the role. He salutes her twice a year. Cool. Anyway, Father’s Day obviously makes me think of the late Marvin Walter McIntosh, Jr. My father, mentor and buddy.
I have written often, in Pep Talks past, of my father. He was 76 when lung cancer terminated life. The oldest boy in a family of six kids had to grow up fast, overcame poverty and built a successful business career. The sports fanatic always encouraged me to be the best I could be and had a profound impact on my life.
Despite physical, emotional and financial adversity along the way, rarely would you hear “Mac” ever complain. The father of four, step dad to three, grandpa to many, was a good man. He showed me the way. Thanks pops.
Fatherhood entered my world 23 years ago with the arrival of Kyle Martirez McIntosh. His mother endured almost a full day of labor before Kyle’s head appeared from the birth canal. It was an odd site, a head protruding from a woman’s body. With big brown eyes, that looked like chocolate mints, Kyle turned noggin’ side to side, as if surveying the room. His head was on a swivel. I had a brief second before the medical team, using forceps, readied to pull him from a mother’s nurturing body. I whispered, “Come on out buddy. It’s safe.”
A prized possession is a ring from the 2001 Colorado Buffaloes football team. It won the Big 12 title that year beating Texas in Dallas. Then Buffs coach Gary Barnett surprised me the next season with my own personalized ring. It has “McIntosh” engraved into gold along diamonds and other fancy stuff. It’s nice.
Kyle covets it. He always declares, “Dad, when you croak, I get that ring!” In fact, the treasured artifact was on loan during his college days as a New York University film student. It was a reminder, while studying there, to “play like a champion.”
His little sister Rachel is trying like heck to play like a champion in the often turbulent world of being a teenage girl. 16 years young, driving, active in volleyball, too interested in boys for her father’s taste and a real wonderment. Talented. Beautiful. Funny.
I think of her daily and hope she has the courage and wisdom to protect her mind, body and soul. Yep. I pray daily the volleyball standout can resist temptations bombarding her and other kids at such a tender and vulnerable time of life. Being a kid ain’t easy these days.
I’m working with a man right now on developing a motivational keynote. At its core, the former University of Colorado football standout’s message is simple. He’s encouraging others to do three things: Believe in yourself, maintain a superior attitude and figure it out. 
Father’s Day 2013, I hope Rachel and Kyle never forget those wise words!
A simple dude from Missouri thinks about a deceased father, two children and a darling fiancee.  Funny how things unfold on this journey, isn’t it? Two painful divorces opened the door for the Chicago native to stroll in. She has my heart under lock and key. What a gift.
They are at ground zero. I would sacrifice my life for theirs. Father’s Day gifts. It makes me think of my dad, realizing he would have done the same for me. A cherished golfing buddy showed me the way.
It’s what Dad’s do. It’s what every human should do. Real simple to suggest, far more difficult to execute. Let’s try it this week.
Work hard, make healthy choices and respect one another. Show the way and allow actions to speak louder than words. Till Father’s Day 2014, let’s do it together!

Pep Talk: "Remove the Pins"

Quite often the source of inspiration for Pep Talk comes from the least expected moment. The latest? While settling in for the weekly gathering of a bunch of knuckleheads, men and women, comprising the Denver chapter of Business Network International.
This simple dude from Missouri loves to hang with these good folks. We meet each Wednesday morning. We also have social events. For instance, a bunch of BNI’ers showed up recently for First Friday at The Shack, a sponsor of my sports talk radio show, Afternoon Drive. We sang really bad karaoke and had a blast doing it. Bruce, as Elvis, was off the charts. 
Anyway, we gather consistently in the morning for breakfast. While busting each others chops and fighting over the bacon, we also focus on never growing weary of doing good things for each other. Especially when it comes to referring business to one another. The power of a team. A buddy of mine, Billy Mac from Hackensack, would call that good mojo, “One Heart Beat.”
Anyway, part of the process involves an “educational moment” designed to encourage everybody to improve as entrepreneurs. Each year someone steps into the role of delivering the message. This year it’s Jeff Coverly. A graduate of Boston University, the good guy moved to Denver in the late 80‘s and runs a successful physical therapy practice. He focuses on out-patient orthopedic challenges with an emphasis on manual therapy.
But each Wednesday morning, the owner of Coverly Physical Therapy plays teacher to the gathered. He recently asked a simple question: “Have you ever been to Cape Canaveral and seen a Space Shuttle launch?”
Most in the crowd of about 40 folks had not experienced a launch. Too bad. It no longer exists. The program has been mothballed. Sounds like we missed something cool.
Coverly began: “The Space Shuttle is huge. About 15 stories tall. It weighs 4.5-million pounds. It’s designed to be shot 200 miles off the ground.” The affable man paused perfectly before concluding, “It all starts with a small human step. It takes a tremendous amount of power to get it off the ground and heading toward its destination,” Coverly described. “It all starts with one small human step.”
Five minutes before blasting toward the heavens a person pulls a manual-locking pin from each of the shuttle’s two side-booster rockets. The countdown has begun. Eight big bolts, 28 inches, that detonate on ignition, the only barrier keeping the marvelous flying-machine on the launch pad. Time clicks on.
Things begin to change dramatically in the final ten seconds. “10..9...8...7...Stop!” demands Coverly. “At 6.6 seconds the onboard computer starts three main engines.”
The launch is imminent. “6...5...4...Stop!” he continued. “Main engines achieve 90% thrust and ready to deliver 1.1 million pounds of thrust.”
Coverly had taken over the room. 
“3....Stop!” We learn the computer issues three commands that pushes a capacitor to 40 volts, fires three main engines and kicks the boosters into high gear with the ability to deliver another 6.2 million pounds of thrust. The launch pad is a powder keg.
“2.....1.....Blastoff!”
Side boosters ignite, the eight bolts explode and the shuttle is charging away from earth. 300,000 gallons of water are released to deaden the sound wave. The big flush  causes the great plumes of white steam we observed trailing the shuttles.
Coverly then brought home the lesson. It applies to a billion-dollar government space mission, an opportunity before us professionally and, perhaps, something in our personal lives. It’s one of those, “The venues change but the strategies are the same,” kinda moments.
Getting off the launch pad of life quite often involves a simple step. In the case of the Shuttle, two simple pins removed. It’s the same with our lives. Maybe the challenge hails from a physical ailment, a soured relationship, the loss of a job. It really doesn’t matter.
What does matter is whether we’re able to muster the courage to take a small step. To have the guts to remove the stakes keeping us pinned to the ground, unable to soar.
It’s really easy to sit around and talk about effectively dealing with life’s challenges but, we all know, far more difficult to execute the necessary steps. It ain’t easy. There’s a tendency to believe we’re the only ones caught in the fray. We’re not. That’s why it’s important to seek others in similar spots and encourage one another to achieve our goals and overcome the challenges to whatever ails us - home, work and elsewhere.
Coverly, in concluding his remarks, brought a grin to my face with this gem: “Astronauts say the view is brilliant up there. Ours will be too.”
Amen brother.
Blast off into the great unknown. No doubt, the air space ahead might become turbulent. Hang tough. Persevere. Make necessary mid-course corrections. 
A simple step. Remove the pins.

Pep Talk: "Food Network Made Me Cry"

Perhaps it’s time to see someone about the condition. Or, at least turn in the man card. Trust me, it’s been questioned before. An admission, I’ve reached a point in life where,  the Food Network makes this aging jock cry.
Yep. Happened just the other day. While leaning on the kitchen counter and reading the Denver Post, I was saddened to learn accounts of another hellish weather day for Oklahomans. More killer tornadoes. People dying in their cars trying to escape the latest terrible twister. The heart grieved.
About a nano second later, the Food Network triggered a cascade of tears. Celebrating 20 years, reaching more than 90 million homes and always on at the house - darling fiancee is ADDICTED to it - a woman was singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”
It wasn’t just any woman. It was Trish Yearwood. The country music artist has a show on the network Trisha’s Southern Kitchen. The Georgia native who, according to Wikipedia, is best known for “ballads about vulnerable women,” was wrapping up the show singing the song.
I’m reading about tragedy in the Sooner state and begin to hear a beautiful voice sing the following lyrics: Somewhere over the rainbow, Way up high, There's a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby. Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue....”
It really made me feel for the victims and families and praying that someday “skies will be blue,” not stormy for them. Yearwood continued her wonderful rendition of The Wizard of Oz song: “And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true. Someday I’ll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me....”
By now the tears were flowing big time thinking of the folks who can only wish upon a star for blue skies and the clouds behind them. Whether in our nation’s 48th state, your life, my life and everything in between.
Life has a way of throwing a monkey wrench into our best laid plans doesn’t it? Those “What the heck is going on around here?” moments leaving us yearning and praying for respite to what ails us - home, work and elsewhere. The elusive but enviable spot, as the Over the Rainbow lyrics offer, “Where troubles melt like lemon drops?”
That’s where they’ll find us? We wish.
There are exceptions to every rule, but rarely do troubles melt like lemon drops, right? Nope. Often it seems they’re locked in dry ice. We’re frozen. Numb. In other words, we get kicked around a bit. Good buddy Billy Mac from Hackensack often says at these moments, “It’s okay to lie there a bleed a little. Then rise and march on.” Amen buddy.
In acknowledging, rarely do “Troubles melt like lemon drops,” let’s give special kudos to Colorado Rockies’ manager Walt Weiss. The rookie skipper focuses on three strategies in dealing with the unwanted junk life throws our way. In baseball and beyond.
Let’s take Weiss’ advice: Adjust. Improvise. Overcome.
Yep. The Rockies skipper has those three words emblazoned in large white letters outside his office deep in the bowels of Coors Field. We talk about Weiss and the Rockies often on the Afternoon Drive with Mac and Goodman talk show on Mile High Sports Radio.
Personally, I have been impressed with how the team plays under the former Rockie shortstop known throughout his life and baseball career as a top-notch player and person. The Rockies’ team mentality has been strengthened by the former All-Star player’s presence. Usually when the New York native is involved, success is found. The devoted husband and father to three athletic sons is a winner. Always has been.
Anybody entering, including himself, Weiss’ office is reminded vividly of the philosophy oozing from the 1988 American League Rookie of the Year’s DNA: Adapt. Improvise. Overcome.
It’s a darn good philosophy for each of us too. The road ahead will probably require constant course correction. Like the pilot of an airplane or captain of a ship, we must constantly adapt and adjust our personal navigation system to the ever-changing world in which we live.
Often, in adapting, we must get creative and improvise. I have been honored to work with a single father in developing his inspirational keynote address. The former CU football standout tells a fabulous story about his young daughter rolling down the window with her foot. Now that’s improvising!
The third and final wise word from Weiss challenges Rockies’ players, coaches and staff to overcome. To learn from, not become a victim of, the experiences on the baseball diamond and away from it. That’s one of the impressive things about Weiss. What he’s asking his players to embrace is what has fueled his success. In baseball and life.
Somewhere over the rainbow, despite life’s storms,  let’s try and muster the courage to face adversity with a game plan rooted in adapting, improvising and overcoming. In all likelihood, our troubles won’t melt like lemons drops, but I sure like our chances of winning a fair share of the tussles.
I’ve got one right now. Forgiving self for allowing a show on The Food Network to make me cry.

Pep Talk: "Almost Over Too"

The funerals have begun as Oklahomans grieve the latest edition of Mother Nature’s wrath upon the town of Moore. About ten miles south of Oklahoma City, on the way to Norman for south-bound travelers, the residents seem to dwell at the epicenter of Tornado Alley. An expert says of the area, “Welcome to the sweet spot of severe thunderstorms.”
When it comes to presidential declarations of disaster, in the last 60 years, Oklahoma is third behind only California and Texas. Much bigger states in terms of population and land mass. The 1999 twister in Moore was actually worse in terms of deaths, destruction and area. Adversity for sure.
The road ahead will not be easy for a community that continues to bury loved ones far too young to perish. The road ahead will not be easy for a community that wonders, “Could we become better at respecting the power of nature?” as the aftermath chatter becomes national debate. The road ahead will not be easy for a community that prays for one another to muster courage and resolve to build again.
If history is any indication, Moore, Oklahoma will bounce back and become better from the challenge. It just seems that’s the way Oklahomans operate. At least the one’s I know well. Most of the folks I’ve ever met from the land of the Sooners are quality folks. They seem to have a “can-do” spirit about them. Admirable.
One of my best sportscasting buddies is Bob Barry, Jr., long-time sports anchor at KFOR-TV, the NBC-affiliate in Oklahoma City. We’ve know each other for ever, mainly through covering University of Colorado athletic events against either Oklahoma or Oklahoma State. Good man, been at the station more than 30 years. We’ve covered many sporting events together.
He was on our radio show, Afternoon Drive with Mac and Goodman, the other day talking about the tragedy. We touched on many topics, including what the situation was at the time on the ground. Barry also reminded folks that, right now, the best thing, in terms of helping, is sending cash donations to the American Red Cross.
“The people of Oklahoma have been through a lot of late with the Murrah bombing, the 1999 twister and now this,” said the affable Barry during our chat. “But the resolve of that community and this state will get us through the storm.” Well said.
My mind wanders to thoughts of those who perished. Their families. Those injured. Their families. First responders. Their families. Life will never be the same. It has changed dramatically from this experience. The question becomes, “What will that change look like?”
From the entire team at Victory, thoughts and prayers are with the afflicted. The road ahead will not be easy as the community, again, begins the process of healing physically, emotionally and financially. 
Video from inside a teacher’s classroom during the tornado’s destructive stroll through her school, still burns brightly in my brain. I grow up in the MIdwest. Experienced many “tornado warning and watch” moments as a child. They scared me. I have heard numerous times the “It sounds like a freight train” description of when a tornado roars through someone’s world.
I finally experienced it first-hand in watching continuing coverage of a furious twister demolishing everything in its path on a 17-mile rip through the red-tinted soil of America’s 46th state. I experience that “freight train” sound from television. From video capturing the horror inside a teacher’s classroom. 
It’s pitch black. You can’t see a thing. You hear plenty. Screams of terrified children. Mother Nature’s roar. Finally, a constant voice heard above the din: The teacher imploring the kids to hang in there. “It’s Almost over! It’s almost over! It’s almost over!”
If this brave and courageous soul said it once, she said it 20 times. “It’s almost over!”Finally, it was. All were safe. At least physically. The emotional scars, to be determined.
The confident exhortation, despite the peril present, of a teacher to a room full of freaked-out kids. It was inspiring to experience. Talk about cool under pressure. Wow. I want her on my team when there’s only one way out of the fray. 
What about us? Where might it be time in our lives to hang in there with all the courage and resolve we’re able to muster from our marrow? Recently, darling fiancee and I rejoiced at a celebration dinner for a dear friend who, once again, whipped breast cancer. She passed through the “almost over” phase and emerged vibrant, beautiful and blessed.
We just never know when life is going to blow through and scatter debris for miles. The catastrophes arrive from different destinations. This week, let’s try like heck to remember the encouraging words of a woman who helped a bunch of frazzled elementary-school kids ride the storm out.
We mourn for those who died. We send well-wishes to those recovering. We salute those who, when called to action, performed admirably.
We encourage others, folks like you and me, perhaps, to find hope from this incredible teacher’s words. If the storms are howling, find the strength to believe what ails is almost over too.

Pep Talk: "Pulverize The Blind Spots"

It’s become a treasured time for septuagenarian mother and Baby Boomer son. Friday mornings, on the way to an important weekly meeting, a phone call to the Midwest. Patsy Perry and second-youngest child, the scribe of this Pep Talk, chatting.
On this particular occasion, while this aging jock headed directly into the rising Centennial State sun on a spectacular May day, the conversation was about blind spots. We each have them. Don’t we all? Physically and mentally?
In this case, at least physically, cataracts are to blame for the blind spots shared by mother and son. I can’t see out of my left eye anymore. A big blow to the head, while a teenager, has led to premature cataracts. The one in the right eye was fixed about a decade ago. It’s time to repair the left eye. It’s impairing my ability to operate machinery effectively. While driving, when turning to check, literally, the blind spot over the left shoulder, this simple dude from Missouri must rotate the noggin’ far enough so the right eye assists in the process. The head’s on a swivel.
Meanwhile, Patsy Sue Perry’s just getting old. Cataracts happen to folks nearing their eighth decade of dwelling on this planet. It’s just the way it is.
Blind spots. From a physical standpoint, at least for cataract sufferers, modern-day science and technology assists tremendously in eliminating the problem. But what about emotional blind spots? Spiritual ones too? Is there any surgical technique available to eradicate them? What follows, perhaps, affirmatively answers that question.
After concluding the conversation, an overactive cranium was grinding on that thought while wandering into the weekly gathering of knuckleheads who joke, cajole and verbally abuse one another, in a loving way, while studying the Bible.
It’s a fascinating group of guys cherished for vulnerability, faith and unity. In a world too often characterized with uncertainty and betrayal, I know these dudes have my back. They’re the kind of guys a buddy, Billy Mac from Hackensack, would salute for “charging out of the foxhole together. Shoulder to shoulder. One heart beat.”
I like hanging with those types of folks. Like-minded in spirit. Men and women, like you, who respond to these musing. Thanks. I love your thoughts and feedback!
Anyway, one of the regulars, shared a story that, for whatever reason, took my thoughts back to the earlier conversation with mother about blind spots. It’s a story about boxing. Born at the University of Notre Dame under legendary football coach Knute Rockne.
Rockne formed the school’s boxing club in 1920‘s. About a decade later, Coach Dominic “Nappy” Napolitano took over and shot the program to new heights by thinking of others and their suffering. He pulverized a blind spot.

Bangladesh is one of the world’s poorest countries. Located in South Asia, at the apex of the Bay of Bengal, it’s the size of Wisconsin but contains half the population of the entire United States. It’s crowded. The country is characterized by desperate poverty. 80 percent of its citizens live on less than $2 a day. 
Coach “Nappy” turned the school’s boxing program, and the competition that culminates with the annual Bengal Bouts championship, into a fundraising event for Holy Cross Missions. It has locations scattered throughout Bangladesh. Through these missions, priests, brothers and sisters attempt to battle poverty with education and health care.
This passage has been pulled directly from the Notre Dame website: “The funds raised by the Bengal Bouts have built primary and technical schools as well as health care clinics. They have paid for the education of impoverished high school and college students providing young men and women with the skills to support their families now and into the future. Everyday, Bengal Bouts is changing the lives of the boxers in the program and their Bengali friends on the other side of the world.”
More than eight decades ago, a coach did not have a blind spot to the plight of others. Bengal Bouts has grown. for its sportsmanship and mission, into one of the most respected amateur competitions in the country. Each year the student/athletes who compete also travel to Bangladesh to serve the poorest of the poor.
The man had everybody’s attention around the table. His son is a Notre Dame student, bout warrior and headed for the impoverished country. It’s a volatile situation considering the presence of militants who oppose, often with violence, the presence of Holy Cross missionaries. A concerned parent was asking buddies to pray for safe passage for beloved son and others in the traveling party.
The room had grown quiet as the financial advisor muttered the motto of those, including his son, who compete and care: “Strong bodies fight, that weak bodies may be nourished.”
Where might there be blind spots in our lives? Where might it be time to fix the cataract that prevents us to see how our talents, when utilized in healthy and productive fashion, might benefit others?
This week, let’s pulverize those blind spots!

Pep Talk: "Those We Influence"

Nobody in youth sports was more punctual to practice; had a cleaner uniform or more moral support, thanks mom.
Mother’s Day 2013. Patricia Sue Perry resides about 600 miles east of the Mile High City. She’s not seen much physically these days but certainly resides in my heart with thoughts, prayers and frequent phone calls.
The intelligent and articulate soul has not had an easy life. Few of us do.
Now in her upper 70’s “Chatty Patty” calls Afternoon Drive with Mac and Goodman often to talk about the sports topics of the day. I enjoy sitting back and watching the opinionated septuagenarian and co-host Eric Goodman debate. It’s amusing to observe the look on my partner’s face. That look of, “This is your mother. Is it okay to debate?”
I chuckle warmly, nod affirmatively, and mutter silently, “Welcome to my world.”
Despite a turbulent childhood, early motherhood, marriages that could not sustain and unfortunate alienation from family, the woman who gave me life has seemed to always rise from the ashes to fight another day.
Reflecting back on the days of my youth, it was all about sports. All the eggs were in one basket for this freckled-faced, buck-toothed southpaw from Raytown, Missouri. Nobody played a larger role in supporting the dreams than my feisty mother.
I was usually the first to arrive at practice. I’m sure there were other things on the self-proclaimed “Missouri farm girl’s” duty list those days considering there were three other kids in our comfortable suburban Kansas City home. Somehow, someway, mom always got me there on time.
Mike, Debbie and Matt, three siblings in order of age, had their respective interests and desires. How mom managed to make sure everybody was where they were supposed to be, when they were supposed to be, was nothing short of astounding.
In caring for our needs, it seems mom found an escape from a childhood where it was often unclear who really cared for hers. This much I do know, she taught me from an early age the importance of responsibility. Be punctual.
Games days of my youth were always filled with excitement and anticipation. I couldn’t wait to pull on the baseball, basketball or football gear and head into battle. Nobody had a cleaner uniform. Nobody had a more diligent sentry ensuring that the balls, bats, cleats, gloves, helmets, shoes and other stuff necessary to compete were in the duffel bag. I was taught from an early age, be prepared. Thanks mom.
Born in rural northwest Missouri and raised in a city, St. Joseph, known for being the “Home of the Pony Express,” Patsy Sue had her own dreams of being an athlete. That was unusual and, considering it was the 1940’s, unacceptable for a young female. Sports and girls were not synonymous back then. Few encouraged her to compete. In retrospect, it’s pretty easy to comprehend why she enjoyed, after getting me to games on time with required equipment and sparkling uniform, sitting in the stands and cheering on the team.
Those of you who are frequent readers of the weekly Pep Talks know encouragement is a favored word. Defined as “to give hope and confidence to,” every time this aging jock stepped to the plate, under center,  or the foul line of youth sports, there was usually a “Come on Marko!” booming from mom’s mouth. From an early age, I learned the importance, and power, of being supportive. Thanks mom.
Time, experiences and life continue to roll on. Wonderful memories of childhood fade a bit as the journey brings unexpected and unwanted challenges physically, emotionally and financially. What’s the old saying, “Life gets in the way of our best laid plans?”
Through it all, it’s heartwarming to know one thing has remained constant. Like the flow of the mighty Missouri River that forever streams southward on the western edge of Patsy Sue Perry’s hometown, my mother has never failed to be supportive of my endeavors.
Athlete. Student. Injured athlete. Sportscaster. Husband. Father. Single parent. Speaker. Author. Business Owner. In all endeavors for this simple dude from Missouri, mom’s encouraging words remain, “Come on Marko!”
On your special day, thanks mom. You taught me at a tender age three important qualities I plan on taking to the grave. A terrific trio that, while not ensuring success, certainly don’t hinder the effort wherever we roam.
Be punctual. Be prepared. Be supportive. Mom was a guiding light, demonstrating these traits. Let’s do the same this week for those we influence - home, work and elsewhere!