Perspective on Two Wheels

Sometimes something jumps up and gives a little bit of much needed perspective. Sometimes they're life-changing events -- a birth, a death, an accident, a departure. But they don't always have to be so dramatic.

Last week, I was on vacation at home. And I accomplished something that's more important than anything I've done in months.

I taught my daughter to ride a bike.

No, that's not life-altering for you, and frankly it's not for me either. I've done it before, and I've got a younger son, so I'll do it again.

But it was life-altering for her. It was a huge hurdle finally overcome. It was a truly magnificent accomplishment as far as Jessie was concerned. The mystery of balancing and propelling herself on those two wheels was finally revealed. And the look on her face was like a whole new world had opened up for her. I could see her mind working, planning excursions she couldn't take before, trips to places she couldn't go on her own, now suddenly all within her reach. And as I'm often inclined to do in these instances, my mind flashed forward to explorations beyond her bicycle, to reaches that will take her beyond home, that will lead her away from me to a place that's all her own. And inside, I cursed myself a little for taking those training wheels off.

But then she hugged me and thanked me for not letting her fall, for not letting her give up. And I realized that I had really done something wonderful that afternoon. And I was reminded again that it's part of my job as a father. That I'm responsible for letting her fail, and for then encouraging her that the only way to do it is to get up and do it again. For running alongside her as she teeters on the edge of disaster, there to catch her fall and pick her up and put her right back on that bike again.

I come back to work today and confront problems and issues large and small, with clients, with colleagues. There's still bills to pay with a bank account that's forever stretched to its limit. The basement still needs to be cleaned out and I still haven't figured out how to wire that damn ceiling fan. There's plenty on my list of things to do.

But today I feel accomplished and important. And perspective rides along with a 7 year old on two wheels with silver streamers flying from her handlebars.

Yeah, sometimes life IS good.

Save that paper towel...

An upfront confession that I am a sports fanatic. And like so many, I place WAY too much importance on the outcome of games involving "my" teams -- particularly my big two -- the Chicago Bears and the Chicago Cubs.

I get too emotionally involved, yes I do. I spend an inordinate amount of time combing sports pages, reading magazines and surfing sports related websites. And lord knows, I spend A LOT of waking hours watching games on TV. I think the lone saving grace for my poor wife is that at least I'm not involved in the subculture of fantasy sports leagues. No question, we'd be divorced for sure if I was into that. But I have indoctrinated my sons into sports and my teams, she had no choice there.

Yesterday was a wonderful day when I heard the news -- my beloved Chicago Bears had executed the trade of the century and got a real, honest-to-goodness QUARTERBACK from the Denver Broncos. Jay Cutler is a Chicago Bear. I think I might have peed myself just a little bit at that moment. And again as I write this...

Being the sports idiot that I am, I couldn't wait to get in the car and switch on sports radio for the long, hour and a half commute home (more on that another time). And it was glorious, sharing the unbridled glee of my fellow idiots, all now anxiously counting down the days to Bourbonnais.

But I was reminded of a curious Chicago sports phenomenon. Yes, in the middle of all the joy, of all the platitudes thrown at the Bears, of all the reverie, there was the downer. The guys who felt compelled to call and say the Bears gave up too much, that Cutler's not that good, what about those draft picks, what about his attitude, who's the back-up, etc, etc...

I'm not going to debate all that, at least not here. But it reminded me of a great quote by Mike Royko I heard once. He was talking about Cub fans, but I think it could apply to all Chicago fans. He said that an optimist looks at a half glass of water and says, "it's half full." The pessimist looks at it and says, "it's half empty." But the Chicago fan, well the Chicago fan looks at that same glass of water and says, "when's it gonna spill?"

I love that quote because it captures our Chicago sports essence. We've had our collective hearts broken too many times. Hell, not just broken, ripped from our chests, thrown to the ground, stomped on and then handed back to us (see Chicago Cubs -- 2008, 2003, 1989, 1984, 1969; Blackhawks 1992, 1973, 1972 -- you get the picture). We don't believe in love and good fortune anymore. With any good, there's got to be tenfold bad to go with it.

Well, save that paper towel, this glass ain't spilling. Not for me, not this time. I'm going all in on this one. I'm embracing the giddiness, to hell with it. Sports are supposed to be about entertainment. They're supposed to be a diversion from the mundane existence we have to otherwise lead. Call me a homer, say I've drunk the Kool-Aid, I don't care. I still always believe my team's going to win, every game, every season. If you don't, I don't know why you watch. What fun is that?

So, I can't wait to watch the Hawks hoist the Cup, to see the Cubs finally win the Series and to watch Jay Cutler and my Chicago Bears grab the Lombardi Trophy next January (or February, still doesn't have the same ring to it). Who's with me? Party's at my house people, and you're all invited. But leave the pessimism at the door, there ain't going to be any room.