Laughter Raises Serious Issues About Athletics

It's too late to catch it at the Open Space Cafe Theatre, but if you were lucky, maybe you saw "Rounding Third" before the show closed last Saturday (July 25th).

Two men with very different philosophies about what should matter most for young people who play sports are forced by circumstances to coach the same baseball team. Veteran coach Don knows that the only way that playing baseball can really be any fun is for the team to win. To win, he understands that he must select the players who already possess the most positive potential. Michael has very little experience with baseball and has never coached before, but for a variety of reasons, he's interested in doing so now. Fate leads Michael to become Don's assistant coach. You couldn't ask for a better mismatch of personalities, and in scene after scene, the stark differences in these two coaches' approaches and views jump out at the audience.

With some recent local events, a more timely play couldn't have been selected to help us examine our own personal views and attitudes about youth athletics.

Ken Ashford and Scott Stevens did an outstanding job of capturing the spirit of these two coaches, and their constant back-and-forth dialogue provided just about non-stop laughs. The lines are well-written for these characters, but Ashford and Stevens made sure that they were delivered in ways that guarantee their maximum impact (laughter!) on audience members.

I made it to the closing night performance with a group of 10 others, and we were thoroughly entertained. For that evening's performance, just about all the theatre's seats were taken. I was told that a few other nights didn't enjoy the numbers in the audience that this show and its performers deserved, and more than anything, that's an unrealized loss for anyone who didn't get a chance to see "Rounding Third."

The play doesn't ultimately answer the question of which philosophy is the superior one, but it gives both coaches a fair shot at making their cases for their respective views.

Guilford County has several venues for great theatre, and if you're not taking advantage of these opportunities to see live theatre in your own backyard, you probably don't realize what you're missing.

To get a glimpse of "Rounding Third," check out the Open Space Cafe Theatre's blog posts about this production (with photos included!): here's one, another one (with a Greensboro Grasshopper tie-in), a third one, and the final one.

I've Felt Love's Pain! (It's Like Having A Baby)

Davis Love III has withdrawn from the Wyndham Championship because of kidney stones.

Having experienced a few stones myself, I fully sympathize. The summer after my freshman year of college, I developed an excrutiatingly painful tummy ache. Never having felt anything so painful before, I thought I was dying.

After the diagnosis came in, I was sent to a urologist. He gave me some pain medication and a strainer, telling me that if it hadn't passed by the end of the week, he'd schedule me for surgery. The week passed, but the stone did not. In the hospital, they stuck a needle in my arm, put me to sleep, and inserted a tiny camera inside me so that they could seek out the troublesome stone.

When I awoke, I was informed that the stone must have previously passed on its own without me realizing it. In other words, the surgery hadn't really been necessary. But because they had to mess with such a sensitive area of my body, the doctors also had to leave a tube inside of me. That meant that I would have to return to the doctor's office about a week later to have the tubing removed.

They didn't put me to sleep for the tube's removal. A numbing gel was inserted into the sensitive area. A nurse was also present for a very important reason: she had thick padding wrapped around her arm for me to squeeze as hard as I needed while the doctor removed the tubing. The entire process didn't involve as much pain as you might imagine. But there was definitely some physical discomfort. More importantly, there was mental discomfort--that's why it was so smart of them to have a padded arm available for me to squeeze. The idea of having that part of my body messed with was enough to make the entire experience rather unpleasant. After he had finished removing the tubing, the doctor asked if I wanted to keep it. I was so relieved to have the procedure over with that I told him he could keep it.

I've had a few stones since then. I found out that the worst pain comes from the stone moving around inside you. When the stone actually shoots out of your body, it might be a bit uncomfortable, but it's nothing next to the pain of having the stone manuever itself inside of you. It may sound sick and disturbing, but I finally broke down and saved one of my stones. I store that rough-looking little pebble inside a small plastic container. I don't keep it out in public view, but when people indicate an interest in seeing a kidney stone, I gladly pull it out to share.

When I had a kidney stone attack at school about 7 or 8 years ago, I tried to be tough and avoid leaving school early. I was giving a test that day, and though the pain was great, I paced the room, grimacing and trying to keep hidden how badly I was hurting. Around lunch time, I broke down and told my principal that I had to leave school and go to the hospital. Mr. Farkas drove me himself. As I bent over in the passenger seat, moaning, I'm sure that he thought I was dying. I'm still very grateful for that ride.

I've been told by some nurses that they've seen more men break down crying from a kidney stone than from any other kind of medical pain. I know what they mean. I've also heard some people say that the pain caused by a kidney stone is comparable to the pain experienced by a woman giving birth. Such a comparison could only be a made by a woman who has experienced both. If it's true that the pain is about the same, I have even greater sympathy for what a woman goes through while giving birth.

I still think that having a kidney stone is worse than having a baby. Even if the pain is as bad or worse, there's a very bright light on the other side of that delivery pain: you get to walk away from the experience with a baby to love and raise. After experiencing kidney stone pain, all you have to walk away from the experience with are some stories to share and possibly an ugly little stone to keep. Stones and the stories they inspire don't begin to compare to all the great things that come from becoming a parent. I'd much rather produce a baby from my body than a kidney stone.

I'm honestly not much of a golf fan, but I'm very much pulling for Love right now. I hope his stone passes naturally and painlessly, and if not, I hope the surgery goes smoothly. Best wishes bouncing back, Mr. Love.

Confessions of a Two-Way Traitor

traitor: one who betrays another's trust or is false to an obligation.

There's no getting around it.

By definition, I'm a traitor.

Worse, I'm a two-way traitor.

Yes, a back-and-forth traitor, probably the most disgusting, least respectable kind there is.

If being a traitor means being regarded as a sinner, I've sinned pretty much my entire life, starting as a child.

Both my parents graduated from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

They had two sons.

By birthright, brother Brice and I should have followed in our parents' heels and become Tar Heels.

Brother Brice, in case you don't know, is the Good Son.

And to spell things out a little more, Brother Hardy (that's me) is the Bad Son.

So even if you don't know me well enough to know this already, you've probably put the context clues together and figured out that, for some reason, something went very wrong, and the Carolina-Blue Blood that should have flowed to my brain and through my heart didn't.

Somehow, a very different color of blood got into my bloodstream.

Some people would say it's the same color, only a darker shade.

But the difference between having Carolina-Blue Blood and having Duke-Blue Blood is as great as the difference between being a Capulet and being a Montague.

In both cases, there's not supposed to be any mixing going on.

I don't know how that darker blood got into my bloodstream.

I'm guessing that one night, while I slept, a Blue Devil snuck into my bedroom, put his fangs to my throat, and took a bite.

Maybe he used his pitchfork as an IV instead.

However it was done, the deed was done, and before I reached adolescence, I was a full-fledged Little Blue Devil myself.

Few Tar Heels will understand this, but for some reason, my parents didn't put me up for adoption.

They even allowed me to attend the Duke Basketball Camp. Twice.

Of course, back then, Coach K and his program weren't what they are today.

And it wasn't like my parents were providing Coach K a future weapon against the Tar Heel basketball team.

Back then, I was as loud and obnoxious a Duke fan as you can imagine.

When I went to football and basketball games with my family, we always sat in the Carolina section, but that didn't stop me from yelling and screaming as loud as I could for my beloved Blue Devils.

I can only realize now what an embarassment I must have been for my parents.

They still loved me anyway.

Or at least pretended they did.

As I grew older, Duke basketball got better.

A lot better.

(I must have been a True Fan. I was pulling for Duke when they weren't winning. And I wasn't bad-mouthing their coaches or players, demanding changes, or just keeping quiet. I only pulled for them louder and harder.)

Duke got very close to winning a national championship during my high school years.

It just wasn't meant to be.

Then, I did what no Good Blue Devil should ever do: I entered Tar Heel Land as a student.

I got a very good scholarship and decided to become a sell-out.

And at the end of my freshman year, Duke won its first national championship.

I was probably the only Carolina student secretly cheering inside that Duke had finally won the Big Game.

(I was old enough to know by then that to maintain good health in Chapel Hill, I needed to keep closely hidden the fact that I was a Blue Devil at heart.)

I earned my degree at Carolina, and I have fond memories of my college years.

Today, when it comes to athletic allegiances, I'm a two-way traitor.

I can watch or attend a game between Carolina and Duke and honestly be happy regardless of the outcome.

When Duke's won its national championships, I've been a proud Blue Devil.

When Carolina's won its national championships, I've been a proud Tar Heel.

I know, I know. None of this is acceptable, anyway you look at it.

All I can ask is this:

Please forgive me.

Terroristic Threats Fail To Deter Couple's Marriage Plans

"Isolated pockets of ugliness aside, the whirlwind of America's College Football Couple continues."

So wrote Chris Dufresne of the Los Angeles Times, describing how Boise State football player Ian Johnson and his bride-to-be, cheerleader Chrissy Popadics, have received about 30 threatening letters and phone calls regarding their planned marriage.

The threats remind us that some Americans--"the less educated, the less willing to change," as Johnson describes them--do not like the idea of a white person and a black person being together in an loving relationship.

When someone anonymously threatens you, you're left with a planted seed of mental fear that the person might be serious and might follow up on the threat.

It's an old way of trying to intimidate people into behaving the way you'd prefer them to act.

The threats have failed; Johnson and Popadics still plan to get married.

According to Dufresne, "Boise State has received permission from the NCAA under the 'special circumstances' clause to use school funds to pay for extra security at Johnson's wedding."

Interracial relationships and marriages are much more common today, and they are also much more accepted within our society.

Even if some people would never choose to enter such a relationship themselves, most of them probably also don't pass negative judgement against others who do.

I would guess that some of the people repulsed by seeing an interracial couple holding hands or kissing also wouldn't be inclined to do much more about it than maybe share their ugly thoughts with someone they trusted to share those thoughts.

Even then, I would assume that the average opponent of interracial relationships wouldn't go so far as to threaten or attack an interracial couple.

Though it's significant for anyone to receive 30 threats--imagine experiencing that yourself or imagine a loved one having to endure that--I regard those threats as far removed from mainstream America. (I hope I'm not being naive here.)

From Dufresne's article, it sounded like Johnson had a similar opinion about the threats.

Chances are that nothing will come of the threats.

It's just disgusting to know that some people out there feel like they have the right to threaten and try to intimidate other people.

The direct threats against Johnson and Popadics are just as bad as any threats Americans face from other terrorists.

It sounds like he's taking the threats in stride--as much so as possible--but while preparing for such a happy occasion as getting married, Johnson shouldn't have to worry in the back of his mind about someone wanting to harm or kill him and his wife-to-be.

Concerning racism, America's come a long, long way.

This story just reminds us that, despite such amazing progress, we still have a ways to go.

I wish Johnson and Popadics great success and phenomenal happiness in their marriage.

May the love they share be stronger than any hate they face, now or later.

Duke Lacrosse Party and "The Player's Club"

My response to Edward Carmichael's letter to the editor, "Duke episode began with a raunchy party," which appeared in the Wednesday, July 25, 2007 News & Record:

The case of the Duke lacrosse players hiring two strippers and finding some of their team members accused of rape reminds me of a movie called "The Players Club."

I'm not sure that I would recommend the movie for its entertainment value, but it does provide insight into the unsavory types you might find associated with a strip club, from the owners to the strippers to the customers.

With parties for which strippers are hired, I guess you have a better chance of controlling who the other guests are.

I'm sure there is as much diversity among strippers as there is among the general population, just as that same amount of diversity exists among the customers who enable strippers.

Some strippers are probably wonderful people, and some of their customers are probably also wonderful people.

At the same time, no matter how confident a stripper is, I would guess that at least deep down, there are some psychological issues going on that are not always pleasant or positive.

The same speculation might be made about the men who choose to visit strip clubs or hire strippers.

I would guess that most strippers know that the men who take pleasure in viewing them also probably do not respect them on a very deep level.

That subconsciously at least might make strippers not feel too good about themselves, and it might make them resentful and even angry toward the men who pay to watch them.

I don't ignore that strippers choose to do what they do.

But I also don't pretend to know or understand what leads individual strippers to pursue such a calling.

The average woman doesn't suddenly find herself stripping to make money.

Stippers may have emotional and psychological issues, just as the rape accuser from the Duke case obviously did, and men who choose to put themselves close to such women may be taking a dangerous risk.

Likewise, under the influence of alcohol, which I assume is common at strip clubs and strip parties, the male viewers might not behave in the best ways possible either.

Some men probably drink a little more so that they don't have to worry about their conscience too much.

Some of these men may have questionable character to begin with. (Some would say their character is automatically in question for choosing to view strippers.)

When alcohol is involved, even the best of men are sometimes capable of the worst of thoughts and deeds.

"The Players Club" had an almost exclusively black cast.

The narrator was a stripper who (I believe) was trying to make money for school and to support her child. (It's been awhile since I've seen the movie; I might need to be corrected on some of the details.)

She has a younger, less mature female relative who also pursues stripping. This younger stripper is convinced to go to a private party at a hotel. She hasn't been hired to have sex and doesn't plan to, but a couple of men who know and dislike the woman convince another man that he's entitled to have his way with her in a room. And he does. Against her will.

We're all pretty certain now that that's not what took place at the lacrosse players' party.

But it wasn't beyond the realm of belief that men, particularly the kind who would hire a stripper in the first place and who were under the influence of alcohol, could be capable of such a thing.

Yes, drinking is common. And maybe the kinds of parties that these young men had are common also.

Maybe we should begin to question such things and ask ourselves if maybe we shouldn't begin trying to change such a culture for the better.

Where does such behavior lead?

Do these men go on to be the best of men in our society?

Do they later marry and cheat? (Are they capable of respecting some women fully while respecting other women not at all?)

Do they treat the women with whom they work with respect?

Do they go to church on Sundays and pretend to be good Christians?

Do they judge others while refusing to judge themselves?

If they met the strippers in a different setting, how would they view and treat them?

How would these men expect to be treated by people who know what they are up to? (Would you tell your girlfriend? Your wife? Your minister? Would you tell your parents? Maybe just your dad? Or would you confide in your mother also?)

The Duke lacrosse players ended up suffering more than they deserved.

But they placed themselves in a vulnerable position.

Unfortunately, many of the questions and issues that might have arisen without the rape charges will never be explored.

And without the rape charges, how would we have reacted, or would the story have even been exposed?

What can we still learn from the case?

And will we?