Being a fan of billion-dollar teams while people live under the overpass

One of these days, free agent pitcher Jacob deGrom will sign a contract for close to $40 million a year. Odds are pretty good it will be with my team–the Mets. When he’s healthy, he can throw a baseball 100 miles an hour and hit a dime with it. deGrom is one of the most dominating pitchers I’ve ever seen.

If he signs with the Mets, they’ll load the top of their pitching staff with two aces, giving them a solid baseline for the 2023 season–and they’ll send their payroll into the stratosphere (maybe $300 million a year). It’s nice to finally see the Mets try to put a relevant team on the field after 15 years or so of acting like they’re based Dubuque, Iowa, rather than the media capital of the world.

In the meantime, the tech sector is poised for layoffs of the level seen in the Great Recession of 2008 and 2009. While most don’t think it’ll reach the carnage of the dot-com bust, both Amazon and HP have announced planned layoffs both this year and for the next two years. I’ve been laid off. It sucks.

Karen Bass became the new mayor of Los Angeles last week, promising to bring new ideas to combat the problems of homelessness, crime, and poverty. Los Angeles is ground zero for the trope of people living under the overpass. When we visited in 2019, Venice seemed like it had tents on every available square inch of space.

While a planned economy has never resolved problems of income inequality (except by making more people poor and fewer people wealthy), there’s something badly out of balance when we award nine-digit contracts to baseball players while dozens live full-time in tents on the streets.

To be fair, the problems of homelessness aren’t solely economic. They have roots in mental health and a permissive society that considers it mean to even call them homeless (they’re the unhoused), let alone push them into treatment or shelters. But even that costs money and we don’t tend to fund the kind of mental health framework required to really solve the problem. When we do spend on government programs they’re more likely to generate financial crime and earmarks for special interests than really solve the problem.

This isn’t a call for socialism–to tax the rich and feed the poor, ’til here ain’t no rich no more. (A more appropriate goal would be to feed the poor ’til there ain’t no poor no more.)

But the more I consider Jesus and what he would want, the more I wonder if he’d be cheering when a sports team signs a guy for a fraction of a billion dollars while people live under tents

If Jacob deGrom can get paid that much for throwing a baseball, more power to him. If a baseball owner can pay him that much, more power to him.

When you look at all the catastrophic things that have happened the past three years–Covid, race relations, hurricanes, wild fires and droughts, political strife, one of the most powerful men on earth threatening nuclear war–things seem like they’re badly out of control.

Even if you take all that away, collectively we seem as if our drive for bigger and better has gotten badly out of balance.

It may be unavoidable, but it makes me wonder about feeding the monster.

The sin of aggressive cynicism

“I have spent much of my adult life nurturing my cynicism, almost wearing it as a badge of honor.” — Me, in the chat during our church’s digital service this past weekend.

Eeyore is my spirit animal. — Also me, being funny, but not really.

In the combined 100 or so seasons I’ve rooted for the Mets and Jets, they’ve suffered through a 1-15 season, the Butt Fumble, a loss on a fake spike, blowing a 7 1/2 game lead with 17 games left, 53 losing seasons, 21 post seasons, zero league MVPs, and exactly one championship. Their primary rivals, the Braves and Patriots, have 35 division titles and nine championships–since 1995.

To my detriment, part of me views life in line with my collective experience with the my teams. My experience has hardened my view of the world and my place in it. When you expect defeat to be snatched from the jaws of victory, you can’t be disappointed. As I look back that mindset goes well beyond my teams. It’s saturated my outlook and limited my life.

My daughter has worked through some very dark days as she pursues what she wants in life–and may have found a lifeline that will make the difference. It’s been hard and she’s had more than her share of disillusionment.

Conversely, I walked away from radio because I hit a couple bumps.

My cynicism made me feel like an adult–someone who understood the hard realities of life. You’ll probably lose more often than you’ll win, but you have to muddle through anyway. That grind-it-out attitude had served me well in some situations but severely limited me in others. More than that, it’s impacted others, starting with the people closest to me.

This week’s message at church touched on cynicism, and on how it’s not welcome or valid as an approach in the presence of God. For one thing, Jesus was deader than the 1996 Jets (1-15) or the 1993 Mets (59-103), combined. And yet at a time when even his closest friends and supporters had to be crushed at his defeat, he defied even their expectations. God can do whatever he wants and your cynicism just means he’ll do it through someone else.

It’s tempting to paint optimism as naïve and even toxic. If you see the good, you’re downplaying the bad, denying people who are crapped on the weight of their circumstance. In some ways, it can even seem morally righteousness to assume that people will be schmucks and go out of their way to abuse others.

Humanity has validated this mindset for as long as it’s existed. We have been and always shall be collectively horrible to each other.

And yet, if the powerful are going to use their power to crap all over whoever they can, doesn’t that make those who fight against the cynicism more precious? If there are nine rainy weekends for everyone one decent one, isn’t that weekend a bigger gem?

One of the greatest concerns a parent can have is that you’ve saddled your kids with your worst traits. I can be an asshole sometimes, but maybe it’s the celebration of cynicism–the idea that certain things are locked in place and can’t be changed–that’s the worst baggage I’ve equipped them with.

If I could go back and do it over, even more than the part where I walked away from radio, I’d want to do that over. I’d want to be intentional about viewing the world through the eyes of possibility, rather than resignation. Change is hard, and I’ve succeeded in this change in some areas.

Professionally, I’ve mastered the use of the Apollo 13 metaphor–this is what we have and we have to bring the astronauts home safely and I believe we have the people who can do it.

And I honestly really believe that. And I’ve seen it happen a lot of times. Committed people can do amazing things.

I wrote this blog after considering our pastor’s message in light of a missed field goal that made the Jets look like the JV team for the Mary Ingalls School for the Blind. I got angry and frustrated and on some level, my lizard mind went to the place where nothing ever changes. They win, we lose.

Then I caught myself. I remembered the message from this morning. It didn’t hurt that the Jets recovered from that play to win that game, 31-10.

It’s possible this is their last taste of victory this year. It’s possible they’ll repeat 1986, when they lost five straight after starting 10-1. Those things are outside my control. They have no more impact on my life than the shirt some guy chose to wear in Bend, Oregon this morning.

Given the fact that God hasn’t called me to judgement yet, maybe this is my thing to work on.

It might be too late to give my kids better programming, but it’s not too late to try to bring light and possibility to whatever I can. Even if I’ve got 50 years of curated cynicism on my resume.

“Bully communists every chance you get,” said the syndicated talk host

When we first moved to Tampa, radio station WFLA still had a lot of local content, including a fire-breathing self-righteously angry liberal named Bob Lassiter who was on during afternoon rush hour. The worst Lassiter would do is yell at you.

Now, evenings are held by a guy named Jesse Kelly, who’s also active on Twitter and posted this:

https://twitter.com/JesseKellyDC/status/1595922649313583104?s=20&t=5SzTFR_tmnEI_DQheDehGw

In a work environment, she branded a co-worker a pedophile communist simply because he doesn’t like Trump–as if that’s the litmus test for being a pedophile and a Communist. Kelly’s response is to bully people you disagree with–every chance you get. Go out of your way to do it. Seek them out.

They must be big fun at parties.

The responses to the tweet were what you’d expect, ranging from “the best defense is a ruthless offense,” to “communists aren’t people,” to “Grandpa always told me, there’s only one good kind of communist…”. So for one guy, the best way to deal with someone who has Trump Derangement Syndrome (doesn’t adore Donald Trump) is to take them on a long boat ride and come back with one fewer person.

Kelly is a nationally syndicated radio host, though not one with a massive following. He didn’t crack the Talkers Heavy 100 this year, but he is featured in the second row of Premiere Radio Network’s talk radio list of shows. As of late last year, he was syndicated on almost 200 radio stations, including in Los Angeles, Houston, Boston, San Diego, and Denver.

Pedophilia is a serious charge, one that should demand more than simply disagreeing with someone about a specific politician. The woman who declared her co-worker a Communist pedophile probably knows he isn’t (though she may be talking herself into the idea that he might be). It doesn’t matter to her. The key is to put him in his place–to harm him for the sin of disagreeing with her.

Nor does it matter to the followers-on who picked up the message. If you throw enough crap at the wall, some of it will stick, and if you can silence a political opponent by calling them something appalling, you chock up the win and move forward. For some of the, Jesus would want it that way.

Anyone who dares disagree deserves what they get–that’s apparently how this freedom thing works.

Jesse Kelly is indicative of the dark forces of conservatism. They leave the country with a choice between a Gavin Newsom California “miracle” a country where if you disagree, you’re a Commie child rapist and you know what Grandpa said about commies.

These people are a danger to all kinds of freedom. They vote. And they’ll only grow increasingly volatile and inflexible as they marinate in their echo chambers.

Whatever fringe hate pastors are, they aren’t organized religion

Aaron Thompson is the pastor of the Sure Foundation Baptist Church in Vancouver, Washington. According to the church’s website, he served “as the satellite leader…and was ordained by Pastor Roger Jimenez” in July 2018.

Jimenez is the pastor at the Verity Baptist Church in Sacramento. According to that church’s website, he “was trained for the ministry by his pastor and local church.”

Thompson made the news earlier this week when, as part of a sermon, he said, “Am I sad five homos got shot? No, I’m not sad at all. As a matter of fact, I think it’s a good thing they’re not here any more to molest kids.” Nice guy. Probably a lot of fun at parties.

Jimenez made the news in 2016, after the Pulse massacre in Orlando, he preached that “if we lived in a righteous government, they should round them all up and put them against a firing wall and blow their brains out.” Just the type of guy who makes you want to roll out of bed and head to church.

Both Thompson and Jimenez are clearly hateful. Though both claim not to be inciting violence, they celebrate its outcome, but only if it’s against specific portions of society they don’t like.

They are not indicative of mainstream Christianity or, what so blithely gets condemned as organized religion. Based on their church website bios, neither attended or graduated from an accredited or recognized seminary or theological program. The completed no rigorous study supervised by outside auditors. They’re just guys who found someone to call them a pastor and managed to find enough like-minded people to attend a service once a week and throw some money in a basket.

None of this minimizes the impact of the obvious hate these men preach. None of it reduces the threat against the LGBTQIA2S+ community posed by them and their followers.

People like Aaron Thompson and Roger Jimenez are abominations, following a plastic Jesus made of their own biases and hatred. Their brand of theology is easy. It doesn’t require followers to reach outside their own view of the world. It doesn’t challenge or convict them of anything except not being vigilant enough in enforcing their own Jesus-scented bigotry.

I have no idea what God will do to such people after they pass. I have enough concerns of my own for that moment to worry about them. But on this side of that moment, organized Christianity’s message is clear: love the Lord your God with everything you have and love your neighbor. Those two things cover the entire law and the prophets. Against them, there is no law.

However imperfectly, that is the message carried forward by most of organized Christianity. It’s perverted by those who believe their way to God requires no soul searching or introspection.

The scourge that could end America

I’m a reasonable guy. But I’ve just seen some very unreasonable things. Things that make me truly fear for the future of society–indeed, the future of western civilization itself.

It’s not in some far-off place, lurking in the distance. It’s right in our communities, as close as your local grocery store.

I’m talking, of course, of people who wear their pajamas–obvious pajamas–in public. Big fuzzy pajama pants with teddy bears and flowers and all kind of other crap that doesn’t belong on pants. Pastel colors on fabric that looks like cotton candy. Or, on dudes, flannel pants.

A blind four-year-old wouldn’t put those colors together

Flannel. Pants.

I’m embarrassed God made me a man.

This is America! My grandfather came to this country with the shirt on his back and hard pants on his bottom. Though I wasn’t there with him, I can tell you he never wore his freakin’ peejays to get a loaf of bread.

I see bad ass Americans eating lunch seven miles above Central Park. You know what I don’t see? Pajamas.

This is the land of hard pants. Worn by the biggest bad asses on the planet. Chuck Conners was a great American. He played in the NBA, in Major League Baseball, and he was The Rifleman. Chuck Conners would probably commit seppuku if you told him he had to wear jammies to the store. Chuck Norris would kick your ass. Ronda Rousey would beat you to a pulp. Because they’re Americans.

T-shirt guy is right. It’s not okay. It’s not okay at all.

If I’m coming off as intolerant to the pajamas-in-public crowd, it’s because I am. There are places where it’s appropriate to wear them. Bed is one of those places. Or like if you’re getting up on a Saturday morning and you want to ease into the day, that’s acceptable. You can even wear them to put out the garbage or, if the mailbox is a reasonable distance away, to get the mail. Unless you’re sick, though, they aren’t meant to be daytime pants.

Sure, it’s plaid over plaid, but she’s doing it at home, where pajamas belong. This is a great American.

When FDR gave his famous five freedoms speech in early 1941, he said that America stands for freedom of speech, freedom of worship, freedom from want, freedom from fear, and freedom from seeing someone wearing fuzzy pink pants to Publix.

Tolerance and respect are important. But so are standards.

Wear your damn pants. Your dad did it. His dad did it. Audie Murphy did it. Since we stopped wearing kilts and togas, everyone’s done it.

You can do it, too.

And get off my lawn.

The increase in violence against the LGBTQIA2S+ community is unacceptable

A few days ago, I posted something about what I thought were unfair attacks against Candace Cameron Bure because her movies won’t feature LGBTQIA2S+ story lines. (I stand by that piece.)

But in the wake of the Club Q shooting, in which five were killed and seventeen were injured, Yahoo news is reporting that in September 28 the FBI issued an alert to law enforcement about an “expected increase in threats to the LGBTQ+ community throughout the remainder of 2022.”

The same report also referenced a bulletin by the Delaware Valley Intelligence Center warning of disruptions to “LGBTQIA+ and drag performances” in the Philadelphia area. Yet another bulletin issued by the New York State Intelligence Center noted that social media traffic on platforms used by extremists with posts that cite “the pervasive conspiracy theory that members of the LGBTQ+ community are pedophiles, and recommending that these types of shootings become the norm.”

GLAAD, an LGBTQIA2S+ advocacy group, reports that there have been at least 124 threats, protests, and violent actions against drag queen events so far this year. GLAAD also reports eight proposed legislative attempts to restrict or ban drag performances, including bills in Texas, Florida, and Arizona that would ban minors from such events.

Pedophilia should be prosecuted wherever it occurs, but no one seems to be demanding that the LGBTQIA2S+ community should get a legal pass from pedophilia. No one is calling to force people to attend drag queen story time. And outside presumptions, there’s no data to indicate that youth are more at risk by attending a drag event than they are by attending any other type of event.

Drag’s not my thing. I think it devalues traditional masculinity at a time when some people believe masculinity itself is toxic. I recognize others don’t share that opinion and because freedom means…well, freedom, I support their right to their opinions. And while I don’t expect to every attend a drag queen event, I support the rights of those who do attend in the strongest terms possible.

While I’m not comfortable with drag queens, they’re probably uncomfortable with straight Christian white guys like me. The difference is, they aren’t getting together in the shadowy corners of the internet hatching plans to shoot me up the first time they get the chance.

No one’s hurt when a bunch of guys get together and dress up like women and read to children. What might happen is immaterial. Your youth pastor might be grooming kids, too, but no one’s suggesting it’s appropriate to show up to church in riot gear and shoot up youth group retreats.

The violent rhetoric against the LGBTQIA2S+ community is unacceptable. Showing up at Pride events looking like you’re about to kill the Terminator is unacceptable. Taking away the rights of others to attend events free of coercion is unacceptable.

There’s no asterisk in the Bible that says “love your neighbor, unless your neighbor dresses like a chick, then you can threaten to turn him into Swiss cheese with your bad ass gun.”

People who assume there is are anti-Christian and un-American.

This year with warm memories of family–and Pat Summerall

For some reason, at Thanksgiving, Pat Summerall comes to mind. When I was a kid, we’d have Thanksgiving at our place–with all the food and desert and after dinner, to my mom’s chagrin, either the Cowboys or Lions were on. The games were generally forgettable, but though people came and went, it seemed like Pat Summerall was always there, either with Tom Brookshier and John Madden.

With the exception of my parents and my sister, all the people who came to dinner in those days have passed. The warmth of the house and the smell of all the food remains, providing a portal back to those days.

Today, one of my two kids is home for Thanksgiving. They live in California and Texas, respectively. We’ve done our job by them and they’re out building their own lives, as is proper.

That generation has started its own life and holiday traditions–and that’s proper, too. And they’ll have odd non-sequiturs that act as the stray thread that bring back all the memories when they pull on them.

I’m thankful this year for all the people who made warm memories of past holidays. And for Pat Summerall.

A Republican I can get behind.

Among all the fights on the undercard this election day, businessman Rick Caruso went up against Representative Karen Bass to become mayor of the city of Los Angeles. Caruso is a former Republican with a ton of money that he spent in the effort to get elected. Bass is part of the Los Angeles Democratic party apparatus, with support from the establishment, including Governor Gavin Newsom, Vice President Harris, and President Biden.

Caruso is the embodiment of evil to Democrats–a non-Democrat white dude with deep business ties who doesn’t toe the party line on issues like homelessness and crime. Sure, he ran as a Democrat, but it’s Los Angeles. You kind of have to run as a Democrat. The Democratic establishment had no problem treating him as a Republican.

Bass is a black woman, as entrenched in California politics as the establishment politicians who supported her–not to mention the unions.

The Los Angeles Times, which didn’t have a problem with progressive DA George Gascon spending his way into office, made sure everyone knew that Caruso outspent Bass 11-to-1 in the campaign.

Though Los Angeles is among the bluest places on earth, Caruso made the election close. It was only late last week before the last votes were counted and Bass was declared the winner.

On losing, Caruso made this statement: “There will be more to come from the movement we built, but for now, as a city we need to unite around Mayor-elect Bass and give her the support she needs to tackle the many issues we face. Congratulations, Karen, and God-speed.”

Just a couple hundred miles east, Kari Lake lost a similarly close race after being opposed by most of the media and all of the Democratic establishment. Following through on her promise not to accept any result that doesn’t result in her winning, she’s appropriating Tom Petty in saying she still doesn’t accept the results. Because she won’t back down, donchya know?

She doesn’t accept the results of the 2020 election, either. Her denial of the result starts in Arizona, where a Trump friendly “fraudit” run by CyberNinjas found that Biden not only won, but that he won by more than was recorded. Apparently, when an audit performed by forces friendly to you determine that you lost, you just ignore that audit.

In short, Lake is operating solely in her interests and the perceived interests of her supporters. Caruso is openly operating with the best interests of the entire city of Los Angeles, a city that has significant corruption, crime, and homelessness issues. Caruso seems to be vowing to redouble his efforts to provide an alternative, while not adding political strife to the city’s problems. He acknowledged that Bass won and it’s time to move forward.

Trump, Lake, and what passes for conservative leadership these days would no doubt consider Caruso a loser. A wimp. A Republican in Name Only. Maybe even an enemy of the country.

Viewed through a more reasonable lens, Caruso is the leader, the type of person who puts the overall good over his personal gain and the perceived desires of his followers. We need more guys like Caruso if we want to pull the country back from the brink.

A happy-me story

For some reason, I was looking through old pictures in the gallery on my tablet. When I came across the following picture, my first thought was “Ho-lee crap,” and not in a good way.

I took that picture in the mens room in Las Vegas in a conference in 2018. It was shocking to me and not because of the long hair and fake tattoos.

The following picture is the difference between then and now. I couldn’t have come close to fitting in the red shirt back then. It was buried deep in my closet and more than once I considered getting rid of it because I’d never fit in it again.

A couple weeks ago, I ran the fastest mile I’ve ever run. Then next day, I beat it by a second. I’m wearing clothes I haven’t fit in since my Tough Mudder days.

The first picture marked the second time in the past twelve years I figured the page had turned on me. A few years before I did Tough Mudder, I’d ballooned up to the point where I struggled to walk up stairs without my knees hurting. I figured the days of my being physically active were gone. Then I did the work and completed four Tough Mudders.

Then the bottom fell out in February 2015. I was sick to the point where I couldn’t walk across the living room some days without stopping to rest. After that, I figured I’d never get back. And now I look good in a Joe Klecko jersey.

Getting here hasn’t been easy. It’s included injury time outs, fibro crashes, a bout of the Covid, a couple gout flares and a cellulitis flare, Noom, and what’s seemed like an endless progression of pre-dawn runs. My dietary habits aren’t what they should be, but they’re closer than they were.

I want it to be clear that you can be as big as I was then and be a decent human being who brings value to the life of your family, friends, and others around you. This isn’t a fat-shaming post.

But I’m better the way I am now than the way I was then. In spite of set-backs here and there, I’m in better shape both physically and mentally. I didn’t get that way because I was happy about stuff.

Once the shock of seeing where I was wore off, stumbling across that picture helped me to feel good about the work I’d done. It’s no fun rolling out of bed before five most mornings. And when I’m on my diet game, it’s no fun ordering the low-cal salad when you really want a cheesesteak with fries and maybe another beer, thanks very much.

But I could’ve stayed the guy in the first picture. It would’ve been easy, especially considering some of the curveballs I’ve been thrown.

I’m not thrilled because I look good. I’m thrilled because I hit the curveballs, at least fouling them off until I got something I could hit.

If I could go back to much younger Chris–the guy who didn’t see possibility, but identified limitations anyplace they might possibly exist–I’d show him both pictures and then I’d talk about where I’ve been since the beginning of 2015. And I’d tell him that doing stuff like hauling my ass out of bed early every morning is worth it, even if I do question it when it’s hot and miserable and everyone else is inside sleeping.

Colorado Springs shooting shows deeper problems, and the need for love and respect

There’s a reason a lot of churches have a uniformed cop on hand during services. Sure, they help out with the traffic and they chat it up with the congregants, but they’re there as a deterrent. They’re there because that’s where we are as a culture right now.

As Sutherland Springs showed us, churches aren’t any safer than any other large gathering place, even though the statistical odds of any specific church being shot up is functionally zero. Given those odds, I’m always comfortable going to be with my people each weekend.

If I were young, gay, and single, I’m not sure I could say that. It’s not just the shooting in Colorado Springs over the weekend. It’s only been six years since the Pulse massacre, but it’s not that, either. It’s the constant drumbeat of words like grooming and recruitment. It’s the 31 people who showed up in military garb at a Pride event in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. It’s the continued threats of violence against drag queen story times and the school boards being overrun by people who view my existence as a threat to their children.

It’s those things, the rhetoric together with the shootings, that would make me nervous.

I’m fully aware of what the book of Leviticus says about homosexuality. I’m also aware that the Bible is inspired by God, but also a product of the culture that produced it. I’m aware that Jesus was pretty clear about lust and anger, two things I struggle with, but he went out of his way on at least two occasions to show compassion and tenderness to adulteresses. I’m not sure he’d damn you simply for being homosexual. I’m pretty sure he’d have words with me about how I handled stress, fibro, and some pretty significant foot pain last week.

In short, maybe God does find homosexuality an abomination–you’d have to ask him. But he finds a lot of things straight people do abominable, too. That aside, the call to love even our enemies means that any damnation for the LGBTQIA2S+ community is God’s to hand out, not ours. There’s no fine print next to the command echoed throughout the Bible (even the Old Testament) to love our neighbors.

In modern day America, if we were telling the story of the good Samaritan, the guy who took care of a crime victim when the holy people wouldn’t, it might be the good lesbian or the good transsexual.

What happened in Colorado Springs is murder. And as the investigation plays out, it may prove to be terrorism–the purposeful attempt to use force or the threat of force to marginalize or silence a specific group.

It’s an affront to the founding principles of this country.

You won’t catch me at a drag queen event. It’s not for me. But you will catch me defending the right of people to hold or attend such events, free from fear. You’ll catch me pushing back against attempts to minimize the impact of attacks like this on a community that’s already feeling antagonism from too much of this country.

The gay community is no more a threat to your children than your local minister or priest is–and there’s been plenty of coverage about what ministers and priests have done.

In short, most of us can’t understand what a gay person might be feeling today. But we can treat them with love and respect as they feel it.