High School: Finding the Mic (or) Glee before Glee was a thing

Today I am sharing something I started almost a year ago. No, I'm not trying to be the next Tony Robbins but if my life story helps others why not put it out there. Sure I have a spin and a title I will share with you all later, but for now enjoy this excerpt and again thanks for reading the blog.



(An excerpt from a book I am trying to write.)

As the libido settled down and the church-going cooled, it was time for senior year. As a summer full of hanging in the pool, hauling hay and preseason football ended so began the class of 2001's epic rise to greatness. Some might say we had a swagger others call it cocky, but we felt unstoppable. State champions, academic standouts and an overall low arrest record. It was our school and everyone knew it. (I think most of the teachers left after we graduated because they felt they couldn’t possibly top our phenomenal group.) Don’t get me wrong, as I would find out later in life not everyone enjoyed high school like I did, but it is what you make of it. It was senior year when I found my confidence. I entered the Mr. Claremore Pageant (no swimsuit competition) read a poem and even sang in front of a crowd with one of my best friends Kyle Payne. This would not be our last stage shared. In an all school pep assembly we rocked the house with a love song to our girlfriends. (Standard issue, they were younger than us and thought it was awesome, I think.) And once more as my broadcasting career kicked off as a co-announcer for the powder puff football game. (We have been called bro-mates on more than one occasion.)

A brief description of powder puff football: In case you don’t know what powder puff football is please allow me to inform. This is the day when the most athletic girls in school join forces creating an uber-strong force of hotness and sport. School dress codes are null and void during this glorious game and in a perfect world competitiveness turns graphic as a result of tackling, despite the fact this is a flag football game. Everyone is welcome to skip class to be there and it stands out as one of the greatest events to take place during school hours. Pure Joy!

Wisecracking and commentating on coaching style and the level of play were among the highlights as we were allowed to do and say just about anything. If memory serves, a tense moment came when the red teams leading rusher burst around the left side sprinting for the end zone only to have her shorts ripped from her body revealing…. thank goodness underwear. It was a stellar moment for any high school teen and a perfect topping of an already wonderfully successful display of teen angst. (*see footnote)

Some gifts come in odd packages. These early days of being on a microphone would lead me further down the road of communications. I knew that if I could convey my emotions that others would listen and hopefully enjoy the sound and the words. I don’t feel like I cheated myself in high school one bit. Looking back my biggest regret remains not playing basketball all four years. It seems strange maybe but my level of confidence and the place I dug for myself prevented me from playing my favorite sport. This attitude is what brings me back to taking life by the horns and reaching out for success while welcoming failure as an opportunity to improve. We can’t always win and not everyone will like us, but we can always try and in trying we learn to like ourselves in both disappointment and success.


* There should be a graphic story about prom and how drunk I got and all the premarital escapades, but I didn’t do any of those things. Sorry to disappoint. Lots of sex stories in the marriage section though. Okay, I am being told by my wife that is not acceptable. Sorry to disappoint, again.

Happy Tuesday Everyone. Thanks for Reading!

Al Bundy would be proud.

Over the next few weeks I will be writing each and every day if for no other reason than to get the voices out of my head. Sometimes I feel special, mostly because my mother told me I was from the beginning, and other times I feel quite average and squashed nicely into a middle class wasteland. Yesterday a morning show here in Tulsa was talking about going to see a therapist. As a consistently upbeat person I have always felt that my problems were all fixable and without need of professional assistance. Turns out I was right, but now I see that my interactions with others are some of my finest moments and providing a positive outlook is as easy as simply speaking my mind. Maybe I’m not special to everyone but at least those that enjoy my musings can walk away with a smile and maybe a slight giggle.

In just the last few days I have experienced an array of emotions. I hesitate to use the phrase “life changing” at this early juncture in my writing but some perspective has been gained.

Everyone needs positive reinforcement. Everyone likes to be a part of a team. This past Sunday I was part of an alumni football game. Since the last game in high school over ten years ago, I had always assumed it was the last time I would strap on the pads and tie up the laces. It is not everyday that a nearly thirty year old “man” gets to relive the football glory days. As game time approached and the team came together in the center of the field reality sunk in with a big thud at the bottom of my gut. (I also hadn’t eaten much all day and the game was at 2PM.) As the coin flew up in the air and across the circle stood the opposing team captains I knew life had changed in the last ten years.

This was just a game, nothing more, no coaches yelling at you or telling you to try harder it was all about your desire to be there. No next day film session breaking down each play and pointing out that missed block. We were a team of guys that liked football and wanted to go out and knock some heads for a few hours. We weren’t trying to prove anything, except maybe that lack of exercise and unhealthy diet do not a good football player make.

My family and friends came out in support, I think. Maybe they are all just sadistic and were hoping for total carnage? Maybe they were just afraid for my life? Either way they were there. Showing up as you know is half the battle. I escaped without any major injuries. Between the bruises, scrapes and bumps a lack of food and an overabundance of sun, my body was spent. I told my dad I hurt all over and he said what hurts the most? My reply, breathing. I truly played for me, my wife and my son. We don’t have to tell the story of those high school days followed by a, “wish you could have seen me.” Now my son knows his dad is kind of a bad ass.