OK - so I just got finished watching the video of Michael Vick's post-hearing press conference/public apology. Now, I am struggling with some of his comments.
This case has hit close to home for me because I am an Atlanta resident and a (sometimes obnoxious) fan of Atlanta sports. Granted, baseball is way more my thing than football ever will be, but I am a dyed-in-the-wool "root, root, root for the home team" kind of gal. I am also an animal lover, so this entire situation has been very hard to stomach.
I am also a Christian who (like most, I would imagine) wrestle with questions of faith pretty much on a daily basis. I am constantly working on building a closer relationship with God and I look to the teachings of Jesus Christ for the lessons he left to assist us in our daily struggles. I am overjoyed by the spreading of the Gospel, by new souls accepting His message and dedicating themselves to Christ.
Here's my problem - Michael Vick, in the midst of what almost sounded like a truly humble apology, decided to say that because of this situation he has "found Jesus and decided to turn his life over to God." If that is true, that is fantastic news! What I'm struggling with is believing the statement in the first place.
It seems like a basic PR tactic nowadays for celebrities to invoke the name of Jesus and claim to have found Him when they find themselves in the biggest mess they can imagine...Paris Hilton, anyone? True, God does some of His best work when folks are going through extremely difficult trials in life and many a soul has been converted as a result of weathering hard times. However, this is one of those times when the proclamation sounds blasphemous. If the Southern Christian Leadership Conference had plans to honor Vick and "recognize him as an outstanding human being," wouldn't you think that he supposedly already had a relationship with Jesus?
In fact, it may be the phrase "I found Jesus" that I have trouble with. Through it's misuse by less-than-genuine individuals, it holds about as much meaning for me as someone proclaiming that they are "a good Christian" as part of their defense against an accusation of wrongdoing. Why add "good" to the claim? Isn't it enough to be a Christian? Shouldn't simply proclaiming yourself a Christian signify the morals and beliefs that you live by? Apparently not.
I think that getting all of this off of my chest has led me to discover the source of what has been bothering me, and it goes deeper than Michael Vick. Christians of all denominations (myself included) need to start getting their message across in all methods available to them. Sadly, simply saying you are a Christian does not mean that you are a Christian. Too many self-aggrandizing hypocrites have "cried wolf" for anyone to simply take you at your word anymore. Unfortunately, this reality taints the message of anyone who evanglizes through words alone.
Every one of us needs to lead first by example. Dig deep into the lessons of Jesus Christ and pull out your "WWJD" bracelet if necessary, but do it. Don't tell everyone else to do it, or simply say you're going to do it. Pray about it and do it - find that strength and resolve and put your faith into action. All of us will stumble and fall, all of us will come up short, but we have no excuse for not trying.
As for Michael Vick, who prompted all of this self-analysis, I do hope that what he has claimed is true and that his actions will start to speak much louder than his words.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Vick had it all - except character (from AJC)
By Jeff Schultz Monday, August 20, 2007, 08:35 PM
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
He owned a team. He owned a city. He owned a league.
He spit on all of it. Everything and everyone.
This isn't a time for apologies, unless your name is Michael Vick. No excuses, no alibis. This didn't happen because of bad friends today or a bad family situation as a youth or the pursuit of some ravenous and misdirected and racist media.
An icon has just lost his freedom and possibly his career, and it's not because Michael Vick is a great guy who made one bad decision. He is flawed. Not a little, but deeply.
People of great character make bad decisions and rebound. They don't fund and operate an illegal operation whose primary functions are to fight and kill dogs. They don't go through life always deflecting blame on friends or family. They grow up. Michael Vick never grew up. He probably never felt he had to.
He is as wonderful an athlete as we've ever seen. But he was flawed on the field, the residual of poor work habits and laziness. He got away with it because coaches and surrounding yes-men let him, and all the money in the world apparently couldn't buy him a decent mirror.
He owned this town with his smile. But he was flawed off the field. So many people have said Vick is not a bad guy, but they miss the point. Somebody doesn't have to be a bad guy to do awful things. When somebody in a position of power is immature, arrogant and just plain stupid, it's a lethal combination.
He lied. Easy and often.
He lied to the owner of the franchise who gave him a $130 million contract and the platform to earn millions more. He lied to the commissioner of the most powerful sports empire on earth. He lied to you, the people who defended him and adored him and bought his jerseys.
He lied, probably because it worked before and he saw no reason to change. He thought he could skate. Why wouldn't he? It happened after the water bottle incident in Miami, which devolved into a great tap dance by Vick and the Falcons organization. Rather than show appreciation to authorities and accept that he got away lucky, Vick suggested the police tried to frame him. That didn't go over well in Miami or Flowery Branch.
He flipped off a crowd but figured people would forgive him quickly. Many didn't. He allegedly transmitted an STD to a woman, but he and his attorney didn't move quickly to bury the matter and settle the case, probably because he figured she would disappear. She didn't. The result was talk-show lampooning and what some in the Falcons' front office viewed as a permanent defect.
He lied about missing flights for testimony before Congress, incorrectly thinking that his endorsement company (AirTran) wouldn't throw him under the plane. Oops.
Nike. How do you become so tarnished that you lose Nike?
Vick seldom took the blame when things went wrong. But it was so easy to blame coaches, wasn't it? Dan Reeves. Jim Mora. Greg Knapp. Do you feel for them a little more today?
Such a wonder as an athlete.
Such a catastrophe as a leader.
So many people have wanted to make this about race and not the individual. ESPN recently explored Atlanta's racial divide on this and several issues, dating to the Civil Rights era. But in doing so, its Web site juxtaposed photos of Vick with the likes of Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks and Ralph David Abernathy, as if they were somehow equals, either in morals or objectives.
Michael Vick and Martin Luther King - are you kidding?
"Not guilty," Vick said three weeks ago.
"I have a dream," King said, a week short of 44 years ago, "that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."
This isn't the case of a person with great character jumping the track with one bad decision. A six-year operation does not constitute one bad decision. So many other incidents don't constitute one bad decision. Betraying those who trusted you, particularly owner Arthur Blank, does not constitute one bad decision.
We've seen great athletes throw away careers before. Drugs, spousal abuse, a general attitude of feeling above the law. We've never seen somebody blow so much over something so dumb. But all are symptoms of the same thing - serious defects.
Judge Michael Vick by the content of his character. And what he just spit on.
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
He owned a team. He owned a city. He owned a league.
He spit on all of it. Everything and everyone.
This isn't a time for apologies, unless your name is Michael Vick. No excuses, no alibis. This didn't happen because of bad friends today or a bad family situation as a youth or the pursuit of some ravenous and misdirected and racist media.
An icon has just lost his freedom and possibly his career, and it's not because Michael Vick is a great guy who made one bad decision. He is flawed. Not a little, but deeply.
People of great character make bad decisions and rebound. They don't fund and operate an illegal operation whose primary functions are to fight and kill dogs. They don't go through life always deflecting blame on friends or family. They grow up. Michael Vick never grew up. He probably never felt he had to.
He is as wonderful an athlete as we've ever seen. But he was flawed on the field, the residual of poor work habits and laziness. He got away with it because coaches and surrounding yes-men let him, and all the money in the world apparently couldn't buy him a decent mirror.
He owned this town with his smile. But he was flawed off the field. So many people have said Vick is not a bad guy, but they miss the point. Somebody doesn't have to be a bad guy to do awful things. When somebody in a position of power is immature, arrogant and just plain stupid, it's a lethal combination.
He lied. Easy and often.
He lied to the owner of the franchise who gave him a $130 million contract and the platform to earn millions more. He lied to the commissioner of the most powerful sports empire on earth. He lied to you, the people who defended him and adored him and bought his jerseys.
He lied, probably because it worked before and he saw no reason to change. He thought he could skate. Why wouldn't he? It happened after the water bottle incident in Miami, which devolved into a great tap dance by Vick and the Falcons organization. Rather than show appreciation to authorities and accept that he got away lucky, Vick suggested the police tried to frame him. That didn't go over well in Miami or Flowery Branch.
He flipped off a crowd but figured people would forgive him quickly. Many didn't. He allegedly transmitted an STD to a woman, but he and his attorney didn't move quickly to bury the matter and settle the case, probably because he figured she would disappear. She didn't. The result was talk-show lampooning and what some in the Falcons' front office viewed as a permanent defect.
He lied about missing flights for testimony before Congress, incorrectly thinking that his endorsement company (AirTran) wouldn't throw him under the plane. Oops.
Nike. How do you become so tarnished that you lose Nike?
Vick seldom took the blame when things went wrong. But it was so easy to blame coaches, wasn't it? Dan Reeves. Jim Mora. Greg Knapp. Do you feel for them a little more today?
Such a wonder as an athlete.
Such a catastrophe as a leader.
So many people have wanted to make this about race and not the individual. ESPN recently explored Atlanta's racial divide on this and several issues, dating to the Civil Rights era. But in doing so, its Web site juxtaposed photos of Vick with the likes of Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks and Ralph David Abernathy, as if they were somehow equals, either in morals or objectives.
Michael Vick and Martin Luther King - are you kidding?
"Not guilty," Vick said three weeks ago.
"I have a dream," King said, a week short of 44 years ago, "that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."
This isn't the case of a person with great character jumping the track with one bad decision. A six-year operation does not constitute one bad decision. So many other incidents don't constitute one bad decision. Betraying those who trusted you, particularly owner Arthur Blank, does not constitute one bad decision.
We've seen great athletes throw away careers before. Drugs, spousal abuse, a general attitude of feeling above the law. We've never seen somebody blow so much over something so dumb. But all are symptoms of the same thing - serious defects.
Judge Michael Vick by the content of his character. And what he just spit on.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Aaron Owes Bonds Nothing (from AJC)
Aaron owes Bonds nothing
By Terence Moore Monday, April 9, 2007, 08:27 PM
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Why won’t he call?
Even when we’re in Atlanta, he never comes to visit.
You mean, he can’t reach out to the younger dude pursuing his record by giving him a hug and some tips on how to handle the pressure of it all?
Those whispers from Barry Bonds over the past few days, weeks and months have left the shadows to reach the ears of Hank Aaron like a fastball. The all-time home run king (at least for the moment) responded from his residence in southwest Atlanta by slamming Bonds’ comments back toward the ozone in which they came.
Good. Oh, and Aaron did so as graciously as he once flipped his wrists to make 755 a magic number. “I’m sorry Barry feels that way, and I don’t have any resentment toward him whatsoever, but I have no intention of trying to get in contact with him or doing anything with him in regard to his [chasing the record]. Nothing. Why should I?” said Aaron, who discovered only recently that the privately sensitive slugger for the San Francisco Giants wants to become pen pals or something. “It’s really not a big concern of mine. I don’t know why I should have to do anything. I might send him a telegram, and that would be the extent of it.”
In case you’re wondering, Aaron first heard about Bonds’ grumbling from a fairly reliable source. His name is Bud Selig, the commissioner of baseball and among Aaron’s closest friends. They’ve been tight since their Milwaukee days. Aaron played for the old Braves, Selig’s boyhood heroes, and after a stint in Atlanta from 1966 through 1974, Aaron played his final two seasons with the Brewers, the team Selig owned at the time.
But back to the present, where Aaron shrugged over whatever it is that Bonds wants him to do. “The commissioner told me that [Bonds] has asked him several times about why I haven’t contacted him,” Aaron said. “I don’t talk to anybody, really, and I’ve never talked to Barry, outside of that commercial we did together a few years ago, and a few other short times.”
Then Aaron gave one of his famous chuckles, adding, “I’m 72 years old, and I’m not hopping on a plane and flying all the way to San Francisco for anybody.”
Nor should he. Which brings us to the primary point here: If Bonds wishes to talk to Aaron, why doesn’t Bonds just pick up the phone?
Sounds like an ego problem.
A big one.
The kind that has Bonds believing he already is on the home-run throne that Aaron has owned nearly forever.
It’s a throne that Aaron consistently has said that he doesn’t mind giving up to Bonds or anybody else. Even so, when the new coronation takes place, Aaron hasn’t changed his mind about being anywhere but within a few solar systems of the place that Bonds is likely to rip No. 756.
“Uh-uh. No, no. I’m not going to be around,” said Aaron, adding that he would stay away even if Bonds were slated to break the record in Atlanta. Aaron laughed, saying, “I’d probably fly to West Palm Beach to play golf. Again, it has nothing to do with anybody, other than I had enough of it. I don’t want to be around that sort of thing anymore. I just want to be at peace with myself. I don’t want to answer questions. It’s going to be a no-win situation for me anyway. If I go, people are going to say, ‘Well, he went because of this.’ If I don’t go, they’ll say whatever. I’ll just let them make their own mind up.”
The point is, Aaron isn’t afraid of controversy. Since the end of his career, he has evolved into Jackie Robinson, the ultimate role model for truth, justice and what should be the American Way. Not only was Robinson a baseball icon, but a civil rights icon. His No. 42 is retired by all teams in the major leagues. In fact, every game on Sunday - including the Braves’ game at Turner Field against the Florida Marlins - will honor the 60th anniversary of Robinson breaking the game’s color barrier.
Aaron remembered April 15, 1947, as the moment he became a permanent Robinson fan while growing up in segregated Mobile. Aaron also remembered the moment when Robinson passed through town to visit a local drug store. “It was the first time I ever saw him,” said Aaron, still glowing with the memory.
They never spoke back then, but they chatted often in subsequent years. “Listening to him, and just watching his movement and what he stood for and how he went about everything, I wanted to be just like him,” said Aaron, who matched his thoughts with action. After a blind Robinson, crippled with diabetes, died at 53 in October 1972, Aaron approached Ernie Banks and Willie Mays about joining him as Robinson’s replacement.
Said Aaron, “The three of us had a platform to stand on. We needed to voice our opinions. Willie being in New York [Mets], Ernie being in Chicago [Cubs], and me being where I was, we needed to make sure we didn’t give our stamp of approval on certain things that were happening.”
For instance: the token progress of African-American executives in the game, and the declining number of African-American players on the field.
Then Aaron gave that famous chuckle again, before saying, “Quite naturally, those guys [Mays and Banks] decided they weren’t going to do it. I decided that, not only do I owe it to myself, but I owe it to Jackie Robinson.”
That’s opposed to Bonds, to whom Aaron owes nothing.
By Terence Moore Monday, April 9, 2007, 08:27 PM
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Why won’t he call?
Even when we’re in Atlanta, he never comes to visit.
You mean, he can’t reach out to the younger dude pursuing his record by giving him a hug and some tips on how to handle the pressure of it all?
Those whispers from Barry Bonds over the past few days, weeks and months have left the shadows to reach the ears of Hank Aaron like a fastball. The all-time home run king (at least for the moment) responded from his residence in southwest Atlanta by slamming Bonds’ comments back toward the ozone in which they came.
Good. Oh, and Aaron did so as graciously as he once flipped his wrists to make 755 a magic number. “I’m sorry Barry feels that way, and I don’t have any resentment toward him whatsoever, but I have no intention of trying to get in contact with him or doing anything with him in regard to his [chasing the record]. Nothing. Why should I?” said Aaron, who discovered only recently that the privately sensitive slugger for the San Francisco Giants wants to become pen pals or something. “It’s really not a big concern of mine. I don’t know why I should have to do anything. I might send him a telegram, and that would be the extent of it.”
In case you’re wondering, Aaron first heard about Bonds’ grumbling from a fairly reliable source. His name is Bud Selig, the commissioner of baseball and among Aaron’s closest friends. They’ve been tight since their Milwaukee days. Aaron played for the old Braves, Selig’s boyhood heroes, and after a stint in Atlanta from 1966 through 1974, Aaron played his final two seasons with the Brewers, the team Selig owned at the time.
But back to the present, where Aaron shrugged over whatever it is that Bonds wants him to do. “The commissioner told me that [Bonds] has asked him several times about why I haven’t contacted him,” Aaron said. “I don’t talk to anybody, really, and I’ve never talked to Barry, outside of that commercial we did together a few years ago, and a few other short times.”
Then Aaron gave one of his famous chuckles, adding, “I’m 72 years old, and I’m not hopping on a plane and flying all the way to San Francisco for anybody.”
Nor should he. Which brings us to the primary point here: If Bonds wishes to talk to Aaron, why doesn’t Bonds just pick up the phone?
Sounds like an ego problem.
A big one.
The kind that has Bonds believing he already is on the home-run throne that Aaron has owned nearly forever.
It’s a throne that Aaron consistently has said that he doesn’t mind giving up to Bonds or anybody else. Even so, when the new coronation takes place, Aaron hasn’t changed his mind about being anywhere but within a few solar systems of the place that Bonds is likely to rip No. 756.
“Uh-uh. No, no. I’m not going to be around,” said Aaron, adding that he would stay away even if Bonds were slated to break the record in Atlanta. Aaron laughed, saying, “I’d probably fly to West Palm Beach to play golf. Again, it has nothing to do with anybody, other than I had enough of it. I don’t want to be around that sort of thing anymore. I just want to be at peace with myself. I don’t want to answer questions. It’s going to be a no-win situation for me anyway. If I go, people are going to say, ‘Well, he went because of this.’ If I don’t go, they’ll say whatever. I’ll just let them make their own mind up.”
The point is, Aaron isn’t afraid of controversy. Since the end of his career, he has evolved into Jackie Robinson, the ultimate role model for truth, justice and what should be the American Way. Not only was Robinson a baseball icon, but a civil rights icon. His No. 42 is retired by all teams in the major leagues. In fact, every game on Sunday - including the Braves’ game at Turner Field against the Florida Marlins - will honor the 60th anniversary of Robinson breaking the game’s color barrier.
Aaron remembered April 15, 1947, as the moment he became a permanent Robinson fan while growing up in segregated Mobile. Aaron also remembered the moment when Robinson passed through town to visit a local drug store. “It was the first time I ever saw him,” said Aaron, still glowing with the memory.
They never spoke back then, but they chatted often in subsequent years. “Listening to him, and just watching his movement and what he stood for and how he went about everything, I wanted to be just like him,” said Aaron, who matched his thoughts with action. After a blind Robinson, crippled with diabetes, died at 53 in October 1972, Aaron approached Ernie Banks and Willie Mays about joining him as Robinson’s replacement.
Said Aaron, “The three of us had a platform to stand on. We needed to voice our opinions. Willie being in New York [Mets], Ernie being in Chicago [Cubs], and me being where I was, we needed to make sure we didn’t give our stamp of approval on certain things that were happening.”
For instance: the token progress of African-American executives in the game, and the declining number of African-American players on the field.
Then Aaron gave that famous chuckle again, before saying, “Quite naturally, those guys [Mays and Banks] decided they weren’t going to do it. I decided that, not only do I owe it to myself, but I owe it to Jackie Robinson.”
That’s opposed to Bonds, to whom Aaron owes nothing.
Friday, March 30, 2007
I can check one off my list...
Friday, March 02, 2007
OK - so, I just got home from finally seeing Billy Joel in concert. Call me a dork if you like, but that man can put on a show. In the past, whenever I've been able to see someone I've adored all of my life, I have somehow been at least a little disappointed - they've lost their chops, they can't hit the high notes any more, or they simply seem to be going through the motions and don't care about entertaining the crowd and giving them what they want. Not so with Mr. Joel. He played to the crowd and gave us a fantastic show. Sure, he's getting older, he's gained weight, he's lost his hair. To quote the man himself, "It's not about having less hair, it's about getting more head." All that said, his voice sounded good, he was funny, energetic and played a good mix of his music.
The show took a somewhat surreal turn when he called one of his roadies, "Chainsaw," to the stage and said they were going to let him perform something they'd overhead him doing during a sound check. Billy straps on a guitar and they break into AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" - it brought down the house. If someone had told me today that Billy Joel would be performing an AC/DC song at the concert tonight...well, go ahead and finish the cliche with your favorite phrase.
In addition to playing a good selection of his most popular hits (and AC/DC), he threw in "Dock of the Bay" and "Georgia on My Mind" for a little home-town flavor. He also let the audience choose a song - "Vienna" or "All About Soul" - "Vienna" won, but it was almost too close to call. He kicked everything off with "The Ballad of Billy the Kid" and closed the final encore with, of course, "The Piano Man." In between, we were treated to some really big hits, some older stuff that never got much (if any) radio play, and the personal favorites of everyone in my group - not an easy task considering that we ranged in age from 8 to 50-ish.
Well, I believe I will wrap up my gush-fest by saying that I am very happy to have finally seen one of my all-time favorites, and not a bit disappointed that I had to wait so long, or that I never got to see him in his younger years. I'm heading off to bed - I'm sure it won't matter what I dream about tonight, the soundtrack will be provided by Billy Joel.
OK - so, I just got home from finally seeing Billy Joel in concert. Call me a dork if you like, but that man can put on a show. In the past, whenever I've been able to see someone I've adored all of my life, I have somehow been at least a little disappointed - they've lost their chops, they can't hit the high notes any more, or they simply seem to be going through the motions and don't care about entertaining the crowd and giving them what they want. Not so with Mr. Joel. He played to the crowd and gave us a fantastic show. Sure, he's getting older, he's gained weight, he's lost his hair. To quote the man himself, "It's not about having less hair, it's about getting more head." All that said, his voice sounded good, he was funny, energetic and played a good mix of his music.
The show took a somewhat surreal turn when he called one of his roadies, "Chainsaw," to the stage and said they were going to let him perform something they'd overhead him doing during a sound check. Billy straps on a guitar and they break into AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" - it brought down the house. If someone had told me today that Billy Joel would be performing an AC/DC song at the concert tonight...well, go ahead and finish the cliche with your favorite phrase.
In addition to playing a good selection of his most popular hits (and AC/DC), he threw in "Dock of the Bay" and "Georgia on My Mind" for a little home-town flavor. He also let the audience choose a song - "Vienna" or "All About Soul" - "Vienna" won, but it was almost too close to call. He kicked everything off with "The Ballad of Billy the Kid" and closed the final encore with, of course, "The Piano Man." In between, we were treated to some really big hits, some older stuff that never got much (if any) radio play, and the personal favorites of everyone in my group - not an easy task considering that we ranged in age from 8 to 50-ish.
Well, I believe I will wrap up my gush-fest by saying that I am very happy to have finally seen one of my all-time favorites, and not a bit disappointed that I had to wait so long, or that I never got to see him in his younger years. I'm heading off to bed - I'm sure it won't matter what I dream about tonight, the soundtrack will be provided by Billy Joel.
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