My Uncle Sibby was once a major league baseball player for the Boston Braves and then of Milwaukee. On the stairs to his cellar where the stair posts where all used baseball bats. Each bat brought a story.
Failure is my fire. When I look in the mirror, it is the failures that I see. The misses. The called strikes, the dropped end zone pass. One foot in bounds ... one out.
If we get a chance, what we do with it, is ours. Here you go, go for it, win, or, lose, here's your chance. And I'll take that.
Last week, Elite angler Jared Lintner was involved in a car accident while driving from the Delta tournament in Stockton, Calif., to the Clear Lake tournament.
It was John Crew's first win ... and it was special because his wife, child and his father were all there with him. Priceless shots of the three of them on stage.
Today, I stood on an ocean cliff and watched a father go out to sea. As his daughter stood on the shore. We're all going to have one, our last year of life. Our last month. Our last day. Our last ...
Between sunrise, and sunset, lies glory. And the anglers wait. My favorite part of the sunrise, is the sound. The sound of sunrise.
Being born dead and living teaches you that. Teaches you that between the start and the finish, there is us. What we do in-between is what makes us ... us.
Standing at the bottom of the escalator, 20-something year old Cpl. Will Bennett. Fresh from the land of sand that did the best it could to try and kill him.
It's my favorite part of sports, the renewal. The promise of it all. Sports are spring, without the allergies.