Appreciating a Gift

Recently, I have been telling a story about the most wonderful experience in my life. I was lucky to have grown up in the 80’s in Boston. The Celtics were my team and they were my Gods. Larry Bird, Kevin McHale, Chief, Cornbread Maxwell, and Dennis Johnson. DJ was my guy. I loved his tenacity, grit and basketball awareness. Those no-look passes to Larry Bird down low are as clear in my mind as if it were 1986.  I still remember Johnny Most, "There's a steal by Bird, underneath to DJ!"  Who always drew the defensive assignment on Michael Jordan or Magic? Dennis Johnson. It was because of him that I worked like hell on my defense.

In 2005, I boarded a flight from São Paulo to Miami. Like always, I was full of anxiety and itching to get home. As people filed in, I started playing my game of Seat Roulette, “That person, no, that one no, maybe that one, DEFINITELY not that one.” Some people, unfortunately, look like science projects gone bad and you definitely don’t want them sitting next to you for eight hours.

I had noticed an awful lot of tall guys with USA Basketball jackets coming down the aisle. I thought to myself, “That’s pretty cool, USA basketball on my flight.” It was not going to make me suddenly rich or famous but possibly worthy of a trip anecdote. I recognized maybe one or two guys. Then, suddenly, time slowed down. The angels sung. There he was, Dennis Johnson, entering to economy class.

I quickly put my head down. I was nervous. I thought to myself, “OH MY GOD IT’S DJ, IT’S DJ, OH MY GOD.” I tried to grab my cell phone to call someone. I dropped the phone. I bent over to pick it up. My hands were trembling, palms sweating. I got my phone, looked up, looked left, and there, in all his glory, was Dennis Johnson in the seat next to mine, the Angels were holding the high note. Again, I looked down, left, right, left right. What was my name? Could I form vowels?  I had Parkinsons. I felt faint.

Dennis Johnson tapped me on the shoulder and I passed out. When I came to, he spoke and simply said, “I’m sorry I’m a pretty big guy. If I fall asleep and you need to get up, don’t hesitate, shake me, elbow me, it’s not a problem.” I tried to respond. My mouth opened at least. All I could manage was a grunt and a head nod.

I slowly regained control of my muscles and my mind. I turned back to the TV screen for a second then blurted out as quickly as I could, “Mr. Johnson, I am straight, but really you were my hero and my idol growing up, I loved watching you, the way you played, your intensity, your awareness, your passing, your defense. I copied all of your moves. I had posters of you in my room. I even know why you spin the ball before a foul shot. You have no idea what I am going through right now having you sitting next to me.”

His reaction was stunning. All he said was, “Thank you. I appreciate that.” I was calming down, quickly becoming a 34 year old man again and not some 12 year old school girl at a New Kids on the Block concert. We then chatted, the basic chat one does on the plane. As we taxied and took off, we went from chat to conversation. He talked to me about Robert, Larry, Kevin, KC, as if I were on a first name basis with these guys as well.  I felt as if I had been part of the Celtics in the mid 80’s. It was so cool! DJ told me about his goal to one day coach in the NBA.  He had recently  accepted a new job to coach some team in Texas and had to leave Florida.

Then came an even more incredible move.  DJ asked me what I did for a living and so I explained it. I remember he told me that it was nice to hear about things other than basketball and how lucky I was to travel so much. He asked me about my family and how they deal with me being away. At that point I felt at liberty to go even further and asked him for advice, for at the time I was coaching high school basketball. He shared some pointers and drills that I could implement. By the time dinner was over, I felt like we had become friends. At the end of our flight, we shook hands and I expressed to him once again, the incredible luck in meeting my childhood idol and the joy in talking to him. I wished him luck and he thanked me. For some hours, to me, he was Dennis Johnson the man, down to earth, considerate, and humble.  

I had been given a gift that became even greater because in early 2007, Dennis Johnson suffered a massive heart attack and died while coaching practice for his team in Austin, Texas. He never made it to the NBA as he had told me he wanted on that flight from Brazil. Larry Bird called him the greatest basketball player he had ever played with.

To me, Dennis Johnson is my hero and my idol because he was simply a good man.

Pardoxical Irony

There were many wonderful ironies during last week’s buildup to the NFL game in London on Sunday. How great was it that the “Patriots” were playing on British soil? There was the actual football game in the land of another kind of Manchester United, where that sport is also called football. Yet, there was a striking contrast that was likely missed by most.

To discover this obscure contrast, one had to have looked just past Tom Brady at his press conference. Tom Terrific stood on a podium, in front of cameras, reporters and the like, as he has done hundreds of times. Behind him, there was a large Dunkin Donuts advertisement. This is the same Dunkin Donuts, founded in Massachusetts that is currently conquering the world with its delicious coffee.

The Dunkin Donuts sign was placed over a plaque memorializing some Brits who lost their lives in World War I. Many other companies leverage mass marketing and branding as a way to rule the world, such as Starbucks, McDonalds, and so on. We are fairly immune to this, except when it comes to the desecration of famed stadiums and ballparks. But in World War I (and World War II) the path to world domination was war. Yet in London this weekend, the power of modern day media trumped yesterday’s British power of valor and sacrifice.

Had it not been for the British and the United States in World War I, Dunkin Donuts and other companies would not be conquering world palettes. It is plausible that today they would go by different names and peddle fine schnitzel and warm beer.

In World War I, many British paid the ultimate sacrifice to defend their homeland and in a trickle down process have allowed the West to flourish. That is how Tom Brady was able to have his press conference on Saturday and how Dunkin Donuts can continue serving coffee in other countries, even Colombia.

Dunkin Donuts of course has a contract with the Patriots that cost the company millions of dollars for advertising rights. So, one the one hand, legally, they did nothing wrong. Since we are immune to mass marketing, except for the Super Bowl, we surely were oblivious to this contrast. But, the question must be posed: why couldn’t Dunkin Donuts skip one press conference? For one second, imagine the significance. It would have been nice to have Dunkin Donuts sacrifice those ten minutes in the spotlight by not arrogantly displaying its logo over a remembrance of those that died battling tyranny. Or, maybe they could have just found another angle or venue.

I remember when 9-11 happened, People magazine came out with an issue dedicated solely to that tragic event. On one page there would be a photo of someone jumping from a tower. The opposite facing page would have an advertisement of a smiling woman and her wonderful shampoo. Imagine for a second if Dunkin Donuts had not hung its logo that one time, out of respect for those British that gave their lives in World War I. The final irony is that companies would gain greater respect and customers by once in a while skipping the advertising.

The Hispanic and Latino Impossibility

In the United States we throw around two seemingly interchangeable terms, Latino and Hispanic, without even the slightest idea of how to define these words. From job applications, to the census, to scholarships and on and on, this country seems hell bent on classifying people. Yet, the words Latino and Hispanic will never be adequately defined. Let’s look at just a few basic reasons why not.

With regard to the classification of Latino, there are many paths this can take. Should it be someone with Latino roots? If so, would this, therefore, include Italians, French even Romanians? Or, should it be a requirement that this person be from this side of the Atlantic? Maybe we should only include Spaniards and their offspring from "over here"? What about Belize, in Central America, where English is the primary language? One thing is for sure, Brazilians don't like being labeled Latinos, altough their language has Latin roots, so that will limit a geographic definition.

Geography is one way to possibly define a Latino or Hispanic. But, should we also limit how many generations removed a person is? If a person was born in the United States, to parents born in the United States, whose parents immigrated from Colombia, would that be too far away to be considered Latino or Hispanic? Is a person born in Argentina to parents from Italy also Latino or Hispanic? If we accept this, then we creep closer to including those aforementioned countries in Europe under the Hispanic and Latino definition.

Now, these terms also present another challenge, one of misconceptions. From my experience, Hispanic, for example, has been used to describe a "minority" in the United States (sometimes in a derogatory way). But, who is Hispanic? Is a white Chilean an Hispanic? A Spaniard? Is a Brazilian also an Hispanic? After all, the Portuguese settled Brazil and while sharing the same peninsula with Spain, Hispania. Unfortunately, many people in the United States somehow equate Hispanic with Mexican and there go the stereotypes. But, we don’t all like tacos and mole.

The countries south of the Rio Grande have such a rich cultural and ethnic mix that it makes it almost impossible to define these terms. The skin colors are as varied as the foods, holidays, religions, and ethnic backgrounds. Set foot in Peru and observe how many Japanese descendants there are! In Argentina, there is an important Jewish population. The Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Venezuela and Cuba have many blacks who can trace their roots to the slave ships and Africa. Also, there is an important Arab influence in many countries "down south." The original peoples of the continent still exist as well.

In the end, the terms Hispanic and Latino will never be satisfactorily defined and I speak from experience and from the heart. I was born in Spain to a Spanish mother and American father. I consider myself Hispanic, Latino, American and Spanish.

At different moments of my life, different definitions of these words have prohibited me from participating in certain activities. One that I recall vividly was an Hispanic scholarship that was unavailable to me because I was not considered Hispanic. A classmate of mine, who was born in the United States, to parents who were also born in the United States, of Guatemalan and Mexican roots, won it. In culture, language, and birth, he was exponentially more American than I. He did not even speak a word of Spanish.

To define Latino and Hispanic, we must dig deep beneath the surface and consider many variables. In so doing, we will discover how incredibly dynamic, broad and rich the cultures are that came from the Romans. We can even make a link via Peru and Brazil that the Japanese and Latinos/Hispanics are cousins by marriage.

Mocking Domestic Violence

When Rhianna was beat up by her boyfriend, it was splashed all over the news. A spotlight was shed once again on the issue of domestic violence. Quickly, the media shut off the light and Rhianna’s problem seemed to have disappeared. But, not completely. It is back and more serious, only it is presented in a different way.

Rhianna has a new album and the cover sure is racy and sexy. In it, she is naked except for barbed wire covering her private parts. The media has come back to her once again yet instead of portraying her as a vicitm, she is called intelligent, daring, sexy. They say she is pushing the envelope and they're in awe.

So today, I looked it up to see what all the hulabaloo was about. Sexy, yes. Racy, absolutely. I can understand all the fuss and know there will be more. Show a pair of breasts to most men and they’ll call the woman anything! Intelligent? Sure, if it helps. But, the reality is that it’s not hard to market a naked woman to men.

Daring? Yes, how dare she. After becoming a media figure for the abuse she took from Chris Brown, Rhianna’s album cover makes a mockery of the seriousness of domestic violence. When a man beats a woman, it stems from insecurity and his needs to feel powerful and in control. The woman is not treated with respect nor as a human, but as an object.

When Rhianna arrogantly exposes her breasts on an album cover, most men will think of one thing. They are not going to study the picture and think of the beauty of a woman’s body, of how it compares to a Van Gogh painting. These men will certainly not consider her intelligence or her potential or her humaness. They will think of one thing: those two objects can satisfy these other needs. Leveraging a well known weakness in men is not that difficult.

With Rhianna’s ability to reach and influence so many people, one has to wonder if she thought this one through. It's not too smart of her. The reality is that there are many men that look at women as objects, not as art, not as equals, not as intelligent humans worthy of respect. This picture reinforces that women can be considred objects.

Recently, Nicole Kidman testified before Congress and stated that Hollywood can be considered at fault for perpetuating violence against women by portraying them as objects. This won't get much air time from the media. They are also at fault, as they are at fault for most of our ills. The media reinforces society's ills, as they have with Rhianna. By confirming that Rhianna is intelligent, daring, and pushing the envelope with this picture is deceitful. They forget her domestic violence while they applaud the picture of Rhianna’s breasts.

Rhianna has lost a great opportunity. Intelligence comes from the inside. The ability to communicate a thought clearly, string together an argument, be unique – that is the basis of intelligence. Rhianna just took a picture of herself, naked, and wrapped in barbed wire. That’s not intelligence; it is a mockery of the seriousness of domestic violence. Her brush with this faded yet in many streets and avenues in the United States, it continues for many other women. Some women in abusive relationships will undoubtedly, and sadly, end up buying Rhianna’s album.