Nice Guys Finish Last (or are called out) (9-25-12)

I walked into work today on a very tender and sore ankle. When I moved to my current place (is it right to still call it my new place after a month?) I was really excited about a 30 minute walk to work and a 30 minute walk home. With 60 minutes of walking 5 or 6 days a week, I feel like if I do nothing else physically the rest of the day, I’ve done enough. There’s no battle with laziness after work, no pep talks needed, no late night marches around the neighborhood. If I simply go to work, I’m good. But when there is damage to my legs, as you can imagine, the walk is far less enjoyable. My ankle really started to feel sore last night as I left the bar and the soreness remained this morning. It’s not a significant limp but I guess you can say I’m walking gingerly on it. 

Now with that in mind, let me get to the point. You’ve probably heard the expression “nice guys finish last”…so have I. And today’s walk into work has me feeling like a very nice guy. You see, I did something honorable and as it turned out I sacrificed myself in order to help someone else. If I hadn’t done what I did, I probably wouldn’t be hurt today but someone else very well could have been (and probably worse) and although I would have been thought of as an ass by some, the rules would have been on my side, technically I would have been considered a little careless but not completely at fault. It would have been unfortunate but perhaps our kickball team could have had a different outcome instead of suffering a tightly contested playoff loss and the end of our 2012 season. There were 3 components to this event and I was the only one who did the right thing and for that I am the only one left hurting… doesn’t seem right.

I’ve seen it plenty of times over the years. You have too. We see jerks doing well while nice people get stepped on. It’s the basis of our country’s economy and a paramount reason we are in the dilemma we are as a nation. People make sacrifices or take the heat, the pain or the blame for others all the time, often without thanks or reward. They do this simply because it’s the right thing to do. It’s because they are honorable people. Then there are those who do not take other people’s feelings or well-being into account when it comes to their goals or the 3 steps right in front of them. So what happened yesterday?

It happened in the 5^th inning of our kickball game last night. I was running from first base to third base on an infield single by one of my teammates. As I rounded second I could see the infielders were having a great deal of difficulty handling the ball near first base so I raced for third. Now with my speed and the difficulty in throwing the ball across the infield on such a windy day I thought I was going to go into 3^rd base standing up and without any problem… well, except for one problem, the girl playing 3^rd base was standing right in front of the base, right in the base line. That means, to reach 3^rd base I either had to go completely around her or through her.

As I rounded 2^nd and sprinted towards 3^rd my head didn’t even turn around to see what was waiting for me at 3^rd base until I was literally a few steps away. Those of you who have seen me run know that I run very fast for a guy my size and oh yeah that reminds me, I’m a very large dude. When I am sprinting at my fastest rate of speed I simply cannot stop on a dime. I need at least a few steps to come to a halt. The problem was I turned my head and I maybe had 3 steps and a fraction of a second to react before plowing full steam into this girl who was standing where she shouldn’t have been. I doubt she knew what was going on gamewise because if she did she wouldn’t be standing in the way of someone my size running full speed right at her plus it wasn’t even a force play situation so there really wasn’t any point in playing the base and standing near it anyway. I would have to be tagged or struck with the ball.  

So I take a look and my first thought is to try to slide head first into 3^rd, thinking that my long arms could reach the bag in spite of where she was standing. But something inside of me decided that if I tried that I might have slammed my head right into her knees, taking her legs out from underneath her and subjecting her to serious potential damage to her leg and even me to a possible concussion. So I hastily tried to jump into a foot first slide where I sent my left foot towards the far left side of the base and hopefully not taking her out. I do think there was no chance I wasn’t going to bump into her a little but I thought brushing along side her was better than running her completely over or barreling into her legs.

Complicating matters was that earlier in the game one of our male players had a similar play and ran right into the catcher on a play at home. The female catcher was tracking an errant throw and came up the base line to try to get it and jumped right into the runner’s path as he was streaking towards the plate and wham! She went down pretty good but that would have been nothing compared to what I could have done to the girl at third.

So I tried to adjust and slide slightly around her but in that split second I didn’t take one thing into account… 3^rd base was uphill! Yep, the entire 3^rd base line of our makeshift kickball field rose several feet over a very short amount of space so chasing foul balls off of 3^rd base or off of the left field line was very difficult because you were seriously facing an uphill battle! With no moisture on the ground to aid me, my slide ended before it began, with my front foot hitting the ground first and then sticking in there like someone jamming a flag into the ground and my full momentum shot right up on my leg as I tried to resist flying forward into the female. It probably looked like I was trying to pole vault except my left leg was the pole! After my foot got stuck in the ground and my body came flying forward towards it, I then somehow propelled myself clear of the woman and went flying off to the side. I laid face down on the ground and I could feel the ball hit me on the back of one of my legs. I was out. The inning and our rally were over and I felt some pain in my knee.

Trying to be careful not to spring up too quickly I continued to lay there, face down, while I performed a systems check. I tend to do this after every crash and/or fall. I have to check and make sure everything is still functional and also to make certain there are no serious issues I wasn’t yet aware of. My knee hurt… so did my ankle but it didn’t feel like any significant damage. I heard people from the other team approaching and asking if I was alright. I rolled over and got up and assured everyone I was okay as I hobbled over to the sideline. As I returned to my position at third base the next inning I looked at the tremendous divot I left behind on the field. It looked like a bowling ball was dropped there from considerable height! I whacked at it with my right foot and fixed it as best as I could within the context of the game. I had the owie but I was able to finish the game though it hurt sometimes... I’ve fought through much tougher dings and injuries in the past. The thing I kept thinking after the game and now today is that it didn’t have to happen. I shouldn’t have had to nearly break or tear something because people don’t know what they are doing. It’s both the blessing and curse of adult coed kickball.

Adult coed kickball is fun because, well kickball is always fun whether you are 8 or 38. It can get a little serious but it never feels like my football or hockey leagues do, or how my soccer, softball and other sports leagues felt. The intensity and competitiveness is reduced a few notches in kickball and its good and bad. I like the change of pace and the child-like joy of kickball. It’s nice to play a team sport where generally everyone is chill and the weight of the world doesn’t rest on every play. On the other hand because it is more laid back and people aren’t as serious many people don’t know basic rules, or understand the etiquette and safety norms. In softball, usually before a game, the umpire would warn the infielders not to stand on the bases or in the base lines during the game and that if they did, he would award the base to the runners, meaning that the runner would be called safe due to interference by the infielder.

You know how I talked about 3 components earlier? Well the 3 components are me, the girl playing 3^rd on the play and the umpire. I’m legally advancing to the next base and running down the baseline. The girl is in an unsafe and unethical position. Does she know this? I doubt it but the facts are the facts. Now what should have happened is the umpire would have declared interference on the girl for illegally impeding my path to the base and I should have been safe despite what happened. Perhaps if I didn’t get hurt on the play I would jumped up and demanded justice but my mind was more on my well being. The umpire has got to look out for player safety there and not just hers, but mine too. I almost messed myself up really good trying to avoid an obstacle that should not have been there. In the grand scheme of things I could have just run her over and then acted apologetic while standing safely on third base and played dumb. I could have said; “Oh my goodness, she just jumped in my way and I couldn’t stop… I hope you’re okay!” That wouldn’t have been unreasonable although the other team still would have been pissed I ran her over and possibly knocked her into next week, especially after one collision earlier. But as a nice guy I’m not trying to do that to someone. Even in a playoff game it’s not worth it. So I did the honorable thing and took a spill in order to keep her from harm. And what do I get for my trouble? The umpire is oblivious, the girl doesn’t even say thank you for not obliterating her and I just cost my team a chance to continue the inning in a close playoff game… basically in the end, bad play Edwin.

This is the 2^nd time this has happened this season and in both instances I was struck with the ball and called out because I wasn’t ruthless enough to run over a female player from the other team and chose to make an evasive maneuver to avoid contact and blow my shot of being safe at the base. I made 2 outs but both times if people knew how to play the game and/or if the umpires knew how to call them, it would have been 2 good plays and I would have been easily safe both times. I really wonder sometimes if I am too nice. All I seem to be getting for these acts of honor is my own self-satisfaction for making the right choice. Meanwhile my team is hurt by the outcome, no one appreciates it and the umpires don’t have my back. Maybe I AM too nice. Perhaps there’s something to being a jerk sometimes. Maybe nice guys do finish last. They did yesterday. I think I should acquire a “jerk button”. I could flip it on and be an ass when needed. Now that I think of it, what has being nice ever done for me? I’ve been single FOREVER, I’m not cold and mean enough to advance further in many areas of my life. I back down far too much with my easy going nature and let people walk all over me sometimes to avoid confrontations, even when I am right or justified. You know, I think my kindness is holding me back! Perhaps I should get a professional opinion. I will look to some of the great leaders in human time for inspiration…

Football coaching legend Vince Lombardi: “Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.”

Comedian Lewis Black: “The good die young but pricks live forever”

Sensei John Kreese: “Strike hard. Strike fast… no mercy”

Hmm… looks like there may be something to being a jerk after all. Perhaps prosperity is only an immoral action away. Perhaps this was a wake up call. That does it! The kind, sweet, thoughtful Ed you know is gone. Now I am the mean, nasty, selfish, cantankerous Ed. The world will be mine! Suck it! Muhahahahaha!

BUT…

Always right at the moment when I want to shed my morality and embrace douchehood to receive more shallow satisfaction and rewards in life I remember the great Michael J Fox. His teachings have often helped me through the toughest times in my life. Think about it. No really, think about it. Even in the most challenging of roles he always did the right thing. I remember his television show; Family Ties. His character Alex P. Keaton was a Reagan and Nixon worshipping, everyone fend for themselves, neo-conservative but when the moment came, he always did the right thing instead of the “right” thing. Even the most unfavorable of characters can’t keep this man down! This is because Michael J. Fox is wise. He’s both a time traveler and a groovy werewolf. Who else can say that? Now take one of his lesser known films; The Secret of My Success. Michael J. Fox went from working in the mailroom to becoming the executive of an important company in a manner of weeks and how did he do it? By being charming and nice that’s how! Sure he lied and pretended he was something he was not but in the end the goodness came through and everyone could see he did what he did to serve the greater good. That’s right, the greater good. So when I think of abandoning my morals, my honor and my kindness to better serve all of my needs I think of that man and I salute him. Damn you Michael J. Fox. I guess I will continue to be a good guy… for now.

The Sound (9-20-12)

It’s a sound I’ve heard before… an ungodly sound that I wish I’d never have to hear again. One that I wish no one would ever have to hear again. It’s the sound of something moving at a high rate of speed crashing into something else. One second after I heard it I jumped up from my chair and said “oh no”. I kept repeating it as I walked quickly to the open side door. A few of my co-workers seemed to be wondering about the sound as well. I warned them that I knew that sound and that we were about to see something terrible. I must have said "oh no" nearly a dozen times on the way from my desk to the parking lot and it was there that my worst fears were realized.

I saw most of a motorcycle. I saw the body of it with both wheels still attached but missing several other parts, many of which were visible all over the street, some in many pieces. What I couldn’t see was the rider. We walked about 20 feet to the corner and took a look around it and saw what we were both hoping to and not hoping to find. There was a gray car with some serious damage all over its’ driver side but a more difficult sight than that to bear was that of the motorcyclist, face down on the street against the curb in a heap. There were already a few women near the man trying to communicate with him, one lady was frantic. From the sounds of it, she saw the accident occur as she was traveling down Main Street as well. She yelled out “don’t touch him” several times as onlookers leaned down to check on the man. He was twitching and moving most of his limbs a little bit and despite the obvious distress he was in, I considered this a good sign.

I never ventured in too close but I took a look back to take in the scene and try to determine what had happened. People were saying different things, probably guessing but the facts were indisputable. His bike was laying, mostly in pieces, on Lafayette Ave, he was laying face down about 30 feet away from it. One of his sneakers was where I thought the point of impact was, again about 30 feet away from the man and his other shoe, as we would find out later was about 40 feet down Lafayette in a different direction entirely.

My thoughts would go back and forth between trying to figure out how and why this happened and concern for this man who seemed to be in so much pain. Some people at the scene encouraged us all to pray while a few still tried to communicate with the fallen motorcyclist. One of our customers in the back room at the time of the crash often comes in wearing his scrubs so we knew he was in the least a nurse, so we asked him to get in there and he did. The wait for the ambulance was on… every minute seemed like ten. Nobody was saying it but people were generally worried this poor man could die right here on the street. People looking for positive signs had to look hard as there weren’t many but the fact that the man kept trying to move and the fact that there was no visible bleeding made some of us hopeful. He had to be told repeatedly not to move but as someone who has been in that situation I think it wasn’t unreasonable to assume he was in some level of shock.   

The driver of the car that hit him drove his badly dented vehicle into the Canisius parking lot a few feet away and then promptly disappeared. “That bastard!” someone yelled. Someone said they saw him walk casually away from the scene. People don’t leave the scenes of crimes or accidents unless they have something to hide. Was he unlicensed? Uninsured? Did he have something illegal in his possession? Was he intoxicated? A man’s life was in the balance due at least in part to this guy’s actions and he just leaves?

The ambulance arrives first a little more than 5 minutes after the call was made. A fire truck arrives shortly after. Then there were about 8 paramedics and firemen tending to the injured man. The crowd around the scene grew and you can hear many of the new people asking about what happened while those of us who’ve been here since that dreadful sound sigh and take deep breaths. The responders were rightfully being very careful with the man and it was several minutes before they felt good enough to simply turn him over on his back. When they took off his helmet and rolled him over, he let out the most awful scream. They moved him very gently, very slowly but it was still incredibly painful. I thought about going back inside. All of this brought back too many memories. From the sound of the impact, to the sight of the paramedics, the questions, the concerned onlookers. It reminded me of the time I was the one laying on the street wondering if I’d ever be the same again while still trying to process what it was that had just happened. My heart sank for this man. Some of the people who were really close were telling the rest of the crowd about things they saw, things they overheard.

Without being too graphic, it was pretty obvious that he had a broken arm and a broken leg. He had the kind of scrapes on one side that won’t heal in a week. Thankfully the man had that large helmet on as the whole side of it was scraped up and with how far he must have either been propelled, skid or some combination of both down the street, it probably saved him from instant death. There had to be internal injuries as well but as long as they weren’t performing life-saving CPR on him, I felt a glimmer of hope.

It took the paramedics and firemen nearly 15 minutes to get him from face down in the street to inside the ambulance and on the way to a medical facility. They were meticulous and careful. There was no way to know the extent of any internal injuries. I went back and forth to my desk and then back out to the crowd. It was hard to concentrate on work. Suddenly the driver of the car reappeared. He walked back into the crowd and immediately began talking to the police officers saying that the motorcyclist was swerving or something like that. We found out the motorcycle was zooming up Main and this guy in the car tried to make a right onto Main where he hit him. That’s why the driver’s side was the part of the car dented. I didn’t hear him explain why he felt compelled to leave the scene for 15-20 minutes and then return. Perhaps he had to hide something. Or maybe he was in shock too? He seemed too cool and relaxed in the circumstances to be in shock so my gut was telling me he might have felt the need to dispose of something in the car that he didn’t want anyone to find.

After the ambulance left and the police began taping off the scene for photography we all went back inside, discussing what we saw, what we heard and what we felt. My one co-worker said, “Wow Ed, when you heard that crash, you jumped out of your chair.” Yes, that sound has that kind of impact on me. Some people at work didn’t even flinch when it happened but I knew something terrible occurred. I’m not proud to know because it means that you’ve had to go through something similar before. It’s an initiation into a club I don’t want to be a member of. Unfortunately I am and unfortunately now that fallen rider is too.

Between my own brushes with death, people close to me dying and now seeing this with my own eyes, I know how precious life is. I know that we should enjoy as much as we can while we can. Its a few hours later and I’ve gone back to work now although my mind is elsewhere. My thoughts are with that man, who I’ve never met but since this crash happened literally 50 yards from my desk, he may as well be a friend now because I will wonder about his condition. I will go to sleep tonight thinking of him and while I go on hoping this man will be alright I will also hope that I never have to hear that sound ever again. 

The Journey (9-6-12)

Walking to work is a lot more exciting lately. When I lived at my old place it was basically a straight line walk. If I deviated from that, it made no sense. Any other route added close to 10 minutes to a 15 minute walk and was completely out of the way so despite the redundancy I kept to the routine. Love can defy logic but needlessly taking the long way around in a less than desirable or unattractive neighborhood… not so much. I’ve always liked and quite frankly have always needed routines, but I also like to find variety when possible, even in the midst of them. The compromise of direction and freedom keeps me at my most efficient and most happy because too much of any one causes a disruption in my balance. If I have a loose routine or none at all, I’m directionless, unmotivated and stagnant, yet very happy about having all that freedom but if I have a very strict routine, not open to any interpretation or tweaking, I can be very effective in the short term but also greatly annoyed without any flexibility. So unlike the politicians in Washington, I find the middle ground and a successful balance of discipline and happiness. Know thyself.

Living at my old place and having to go the same way to work with little room to explore or spread my wings made the walk tedious. I’d try to let my mind wander when I made the trip so that I wouldn’t fixate on taking the same steps and passing the same houses day after day, week after week. For a while, getting lost in my mind helped to quell the restlessness. I’d also try to mix it up by alternating which side of the street I’d walk on, crossing at every other corner or anything I could to make the walk more interesting. It reached a point where I could hardly take it but then thankfully I moved farther away from my job and in a completely different direction.

I know that sounds like a weird thing to say, that I’m happy I’ve moved farther away but coming to work from my new place is like stepping out into a whole new world. I have to come uptown from near Allentown up to the Canisius area on Main. There are so many routes I can take! First I have to choose the main stretch… do I want the activity of Elmwood, the serenity of Linwood or the compromise of Delaware? Perhaps I’ll get greedy and seek out a blend of any 2 or 3. Then I have to figure out where to cut across. Sometimes I walk to the Co-op and cut across Lancaster, other times I use Auburn, West Ferry, West Utica, the old Gates hospital and so on... so many choices! Each day it seems I go a slightly different way and whether it takes me 32 or 34 minutes to walk to or from work is no matter. Nothing seems terribly out of the way and all of it makes sense. It’s a new routine, but a far larger and more exciting one chalk full of possibilities within!

As I was walking in this morning I somehow spent equal amounts of time on Elmwood, Delaware and Linwood before I had to make my turn at Lafayette, the street my employer is on. I’m not sure why I split the trip up the way I did. I had music going in my ears and my legs were pumping quickly. I was there, in the moment but I was also deep inside my mind both in the music and in thought. It seemed like I was going faster with each block. Beads of sweat were falling alongside both temples and down the back of my neck but my mind was moving faster than my legs and as I was coming around the corner from West Ferry to Linwood Avenue a thought crossed my mind… right now, this walk, this moment… this is a metaphor for life!

You see, in life we all are trying to get somewhere. Sometimes we reach our destinations, sometimes we don’t. Other times our destination changes while we are on the way there, like a text coming through telling us the party has been moved to a different location while we are en route causing us to alter our course. Ideally we are all going somewhere but we all have our own ways to do it. Think planes, trains, automobiles, bicycles and feet. Some prefer the straight line approach, all business and no distractions… I want the quickest way there! A few enjoy the distractions and think that getting there, whenever that is, is just as important because getting there WAS the objective… hey, at least I got there! There might even be some who are so enamored with the trip and the scenery that they forget where they are going, or care little about the destination and more about the journey. Which is the best way? You might have an opinion one way or the other but what’s right for you, isn’t necessarily right for the next person. My point is there is no RIGHT way to get there. Do what’s best for you; my only caveat is that you must keep moving. I think the worst thing you can do is nothing. I know this because I’ve done it. I still do it in some respects. Keep moving. Maybe you’ll get there or maybe you won’t get to where you originally planned but instead find someplace new and quite nice in spite of yourself. Everyone is different. People are driven by different motivators. Plus some people are late bloomers, some take forever to decide while others change careers when they are already well along into their previous one. It happens all the time. There’s no wrong way to eat a Reese’s.

So I think no one way is right and if you think yours is and it’s a model others should follow I say stop trying to see people how you want them to be and instead try seeing them how they are. When someone is on the journey to a destination, no matter what speed, no matter what road they decide to take, as long as they are moving, it’s all beautiful. Support them and if they fall down, help them pick themselves back up, tell em’ what you learned on your journeys and share your experiences and opinions but keep in mind, we can’t walk in other people’s shoes but walking alongside them is a lot better than jumping onto their backs. Enjoy each journey whether they are big or small and you shall see the wonderment of your steps.

Anyway, these are the things I think deeply about when you see me walking down the street and you try to say hi from your car while waiting at a light and I don’t respond and it doesn’t register that someone might have been trying to talk to me until it’s too late and I see you driving off and think oh, that’s who and what that sound was… oops! My apologies.

And shortly will come the journey home… which way shall I take tonight?!?

“Focus on the journey, not the destination. Joy is found not in finishing an activity but in doing it.”