It’s 2:30 am, and I can’t sleep.

Since I’m in the process of planning my 20-year high school reunion, I came downstairs to look through the ol’ yearbook in search of ideas … thoughts … whatever. Oddly, in reading through the yellowed pages, I discovered something unique: Pride.

During much of my prep life in Mahopac, I was a loser. Not a huge loser, just loser enough to be sorta dorky and mildly ignored. I ran track and cross country, worked on the student newspaper, had a small handful of good friends, hit up the occasional party, never drank, smoked or kissed a girl. Blah—that was me. Just blah.

That said, in reading the yearbook, two things stand out that give me pride:

1. In the six-year span of junior high and high school, I ran for student government five times—and never won. Five. Times. How unpopular must a guy be to endure that sort of streak? Yet now, looking back, I’m oddly impressed by myself (excuse the self-back patting). How many teenagers—at the peak of insecurity—would put themselves through that sort of annual rejection?

My two most memorable elections are 7th grade and 12th. In 7th grade, I ran for class president against Jerry Tesler (now a chef). My platform was singular and, I believed at the time, genius: We needed a third lunch line in the cafeteria. The result: I lost by about 300 votes (in a class of 350).

As a senior, I ran for representative, and decided I was going to channel my inner Malcolm X. I wrote a fiery, angry speech that blasted classmates, the libraries, the cafeteria … everyone. When I showed it to Mr. Maloney, the student adviser (and a wonderful man—RIP), he told me I’d have to re-write it. Well, I didn’t. I stood before the class in the gymnasium, pumped up, using the refrain “I’m tired of” this and “I’m tired of” that. The place went nuts, and I was convinced I’d finally snag a win.

Alas, I lost. The most crushing of ‘em all.

2. I tried out for basketball three times. Cut trying out for freshman hoops in 9th grade, cut trying out for JV in 10th. Took 11th off, tried out as a senior—and made it. (In a fit of stupidity, I quit the team a week later after I felt slighted by the coach. I still remember proudly telling Tom Gilchrist, the gym teacher and my track coach, that I’d quit. I expected his support. Instead, he told me something I’ve never forgotten: “When you quit once, it gets easier and easier to do.” He was dead-on.)

Anyhow, that’s all. Sorry for the bat packing … just thought I’d share. I always felt like my parents went after stuff, even in tough times; even when failure was likely. They always tried hard, and never discouraged me from pursuing the unobtainable.

Word.

Let me tell you about author appearances. Unless your name is:

Troy Aikman.

Jennifer Lopez.

John Feinstein.

… they’re awfully uncomfortable. There’s you, a stack of books, a half-empty room. We do them, because, well, we do them. In this case, I grew up in Mahopac and absolutely love my hometown’s public library. As a kid, I’d go there and the librarians would present me with a stack of sports biographies they placed aside. So whatever they ask for, I now give. I owe them.

Anyhow, I can’t promise amazing times—but I’ll bring cookies.

This will probably be my final post on this issue. I found the following letter fascinating. It was sent to Dr. Laura Schlessinger after she bashed gay marriage a few years ago. I’m not a biblical scholar, so I’m sure there’s stuff I’m missing. But it’s pretty damn wicked (in a good way) …

Dear Dr. Laura:

Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God’s Law.

I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge
with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual
lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly
states it to be an abomination. … End of debate.

I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some other elements of
God’s Law and how to follow them.

1. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a
pleasing odour for the Lord – Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbours. They
claim the odour is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus
21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her
period of menstrual uncleanliness – Lev.15: 19-24. The problem is how do I
tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offence.

4. Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and
female, provided they are purchased from neighbouring nations. A
friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not
Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can’t I own Canadians?

5. I have a neighbour who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2.
The passage clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated
to kill him myself?

6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an
abomination – Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I
don’t agree. Can you settle this? Are there ‘degrees’ of abomination?

7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a
defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my
vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?

8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair
around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev.19:27.
How should they die?

9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me
unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different
crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two
different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse
and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of
getting the whole town together to stone them? – Lev.24:10-16. Couldn’t we
just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with people
who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)

I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy considerable
expertise in such matters, so I am confident you can help.

Thank you again for reminding us that God’s word is eternal and unchanging.

Your adoring fan,

Anonymous

I received this e-mail today from Drew Snyder, and found it very interesting and intelligent. Do I agree? Not with all of it. But, to me, Drew approaches this issue in a righteous manner … considering that we are on opposite sides of the spectrum (For the record, Drew gave me permission to run it):

I’m not sure if you remember me from the last time this conversation came up (about homosexual couples being barred from adopting in Iowa, I think), but I thought I’d offer my two cents as a committed Christian and as a minister.

I only wish more people felt the same.

I’ve been thinking much about the gay marriage issue over the past 24 hours; have held several discussions; etc. Plus, as opposed to last night, I’m not exhausted. My mind is working competently.

What I really wanted to say—what I really want to say—is that there is no longer a viable justification to oppose gay marriage None whatsoever. Let’s break down what we hear …

1. Heterosexual marriage is the bedrock of society: Fact—More than half of American heterosexual marriages end in divorce. More. Than. Half. If that’s a bedrock, well, it’s a joke. Our society’s bedrock is decency and compassion and open-mindedness. That’s not liberal blather—it’s truth. We tolerate one another, even when it sucks. Even when it’s painful. Uncomfortable.

2. God’s will: If you believe homosexual marriage is against God’s will, well, that’s your belief, and Mazel Tov. But it has no bearing on governmental rulings and laws. If you don’t want to marry gays in your church, don’t. But that does not impact what two consenting adults do elsewhere—in their own church, or before a judge.

3. Marriage is the union of two who will procreate: A. Gays can procreate, though not in the oft-thought of way. B. Many hetero couples can’t procreate—does that mean they shouldn’t be allowed to marry.

4. (And I heard this on Larry King last night) If we have gay marriage, little boys and girls will grow up wondering whether they should be with boys or girls: My reaction: So?

I am a 37-year-old father of two. If my daughter and son grow up to be gay, nothing changes. Nothing. I love them the same. I embrace them the same. I encourage them the same. I hope they wind up with nice partners; hope they have kids; hope they enjoy their lives and live with decency and goodness.

There’s this mindset among conservatives … this warped, “What if my child falls under the gay influence … blah, blah, blah.” Like being gay is a disease or an infliction. Being gay is … being. It’s a part of who you are, along with 8,000,000,000 other factors. There’s nothing wrong with it; nothing devilish or sinful.

Frankly, I’m sick and tired of the so-called moralists acting so immorally about this. If you really love God, you love—period. You don’t discriminate and reserve your love for those who share your way of living. I remember, back in the early 1990s, living in Tennessee and having Christians tell me they loved me, yet not my religion. It was the standard bullshit line—love the sinner, not the sin. Yet they didn’t love me. They were disgusted by me, just as they’re disgusted by homosexuals.

I am a straight man standing up against bigotry, and I hope others—straight and gay—take the path, too. I wasn’t around for the civil rights battles of the 1950s and 60s, but I’m here for this.

We all are.

I am ashamed of California, where the gay marriage ban was upheld today by the state supreme court.

What infuriates me the most are the defenders of “traditional” marriage; those who insist we are better off with only men marrying women. When they’re asked why, the answer is some blather about the decay of society, and God’s will, and Christian nation, and infringing upon our rights and blah … blah … blah.

Idiots. All of them. Idiots.

One day, in the not-too-distant future, opponents of gay marriage will look back and be ashamed of themselves. They’ll be the George Wallaces of the early 2000s—immoral fools just not smart enough to understand historical implications. This sort of commercial will be shown in documentaries, and people will laugh. Such garbage.

For anyone who disagrees, take it from me: I have gay friends who are married. Some of them have children. They raise them with love; live with love; deal with emotional and business and financial and life decisions just like heterosexual couples do.

It’s time to end this nonsense and do the right thing.

Reminds me of the good ol’ days in Nashville.

So I’m here in Ocean City, N.J., having an amazing time on vacation with my wife and kids and friends. Tonight, a bunch of us went to play miniature golf. I loathe miniature golf. Perhaps it stems from my childhood, when I accidentally slammed my mother in the face with a backswing (she’s OK). But, truth be told, I think it stems from the fact that miniature golf is:

A. Terribly overrated.

B. Boring.

C. Not especially fun.

D. Not hard.

Greg Kuppinger, my friend and a miniature golf enthusiast (as well as an absolutely amazing artist), disagrees strongly. Here is our debate:

Me: Miniature golf is boring.

Greg: How can miniature golf be boring? In real golf you’re hitting a ball into wide open space, hitting it into a hole in the middle of a wide open green. In miniature golf, you have to deal with spinning windmills, moving clown faces and hippo anus. And that final hole you can get a free game or a free pizza.

Me: Have you ever gotten that?

Greg: No. Wait—I did get a free game one time, but I was pretty disappointed by it.

Me: Why?

Greg: Because I didn’t want to play again.

I win. Miniature golf sucks.

Today I returned to the University of Delaware to speak to a sportswriting class. I’ve gone back many times since graduating in 1994, and it’s always odd. Sorta like stepping into a time warp, where I’m tossed backward to a simpler era, where I worried solely about (in this order):

1. Hooking up.

2. The Review, the student paper.

3. Grades.

4. Hoops.

Man, I loved college. Loved it. And yet, you can never really go home again. Cruising the campus, I mainly felt … old. I had on shorts, a T-shirt and flip-flops, with a backpack flung over my shoulders. But even if I looked 22 (I don’t), I’m not 22. I’m a 37-year-old man with a wife and two kids; a mortgage and a damned minivan. There’s no turning back from reality: I’m aging.

That said, the visit renewed my desire to teach college journalism. I really enjoy standing before a group of students and just … spewing. It’s fun, and I tend to get a good response. One day, me hopes …

In today’s New York Post, Phil Mushnick tees off on John Sterling, the New York Yankees’ radio voice. Although I rarely listen to baseball on the radio these days, I agree 100 percent.

Sterling is, simply put, terrible. Tonight, while returning from the gym, I heard him celebrate one of Mark Texiera’s homers by saying, “That’s on the Mark, Texiera! A text message!” I couldn’t believe how absolutely terrible that was; I mean, badder than bad.

Now compare Sterling to the Mets across the way, who hire smart, on-point announcers for their broadcasts. Really, the man’s a joke. Nice guy, probably. But horrific.

Anyhow, that’s all I have to say about that.