I will learn to forgive what I cannot change
I will learn to love what I cannot change
But I will change, I will change
Whatever I, whenever I can
- Lyrics from What I Cannot Change
I can't change, I can't change
But I'm here in my mind
I am here in my mind
But I'm a million different people
from one day to the next
I can't change my mind
No, no, no.
- Lyrics from Bittersweet Symphony
"I'm gonna change -- I'll change -- I've learned that I have the strength to change."
- Michael Corleone, Godfather II
Over the past several weeks, I've learned quite a bit about myself and this world:
- There is no good television programming on at 2 o'clock in the morning. I'm thankful for the DVR.
- Morning Joe is perhaps the best non-rerun show on tv. It starts at 5 am.
- Like a nephew of mine, I develop a nervous stomach when I'm under intense pressure. I have to do the same thing he does - lay down, relax, and think calming thoughts. And eat a lot of Tums. Although, I did learn that Octavian suffered the same ailment. The other morning, I got quite the chuckle picturing him puking his guts out in the Straits of Actium.
- Change is the only constant in life. So be it.
- If you're successful once, it's easier to achieve success again - even if the two incidents aren't remotely related.
- It ain't over 'til it's over. But after everything is said and done, there's nothing left to say or do.
Anyway, during one of these junior high games, we found ourselves down one point with only a few seconds left. The inbounds pass came to me and I took the shot. In true Shooter fashion, in-and-out; I was fouled. With no time left on the clock, one free-throw would tie the game, two would win it. With only myself and the ref out on the court, I sank both free-throws. That's the shot that put me on the map.
During the next five years, I was put in several similar situations - down by a couple of points, time running out, and with the ball. I wish I could say I won them all, but I didn't. The main thing that counts is that I won that first one.
I'm in a story-telling mood.
My final year in high school, we played in the Mason tournament. I loved that tournament for no other reason than the annual trip through Fredericksburg during Christmas season.
We played well and earned a trip to the championship game to face Llano. Llano is probably a wonderful town in an undoubtedly wonderful section of Central Texas. However, I can't stand that place for no other reason than we played their team in a meaningless non-district game 17 years ago.
I still have the game on videotape, which I watch every few years. Despite never having played each other before, we sure did hate each other. Several times during the game, hard fouls led to a few fights. At the beginning of the third quarter, the referee warned each coach that one more scuffle would lead to the game being forfeited by both sides; even talking smack would warrant a technical foul.
With five seconds left, we were up by two points but they had the ball. During the timeout, Coach told us that we could do just about whatever we wanted except foul the shooter. Of course, one of our guys fouled the shooter.
The kid shooting free-throws missed the first shot. Four of our guys jumped up and celebrated because we just won the game, except we hadn't. I was the only one to stand still and get ready for the next free-throw. He had one shot left and it was possible for him to miss, get the rebound, and make the shot to tie, or possibly win, the game.
Of course, he purposefully missed the shot, we got the rebound, and a fight flared up as the clock went off since the game could no longer be forfeited. The court was cleared and the medal presentation took place in the locker room.
Anyway, those two stories have been floating around in my mind since Monday morning.
Even though those two happenstances occurred many years ago to a kid I barely now recognize, they sure do provide quite a bit of relief to an aging man who is quickly showing more and more grey.
