Let's (Not) Go Bowling!

The seemingly never-ending Bowl Season has begun. It all started with three bowls on a December Saturday, including Northern Illinois beating Fresno State on the blue artificial turf at Boise State. That was the Humanitarian Bowl.

Really?

I’m a human, but I couldn’t generate any interest in the Huskies against the Raisins or whatever in the Humanitarian Bowl. But then, I’m old enough to remember when bowl games had a certain luster about them, and that was because there were four or five of them. This year there are 35 bowl games. Thirty-five.

Only one bowl game actually counts for something, because its real name is the BCS Championship. That one doesn’t get played until mid-January, and it will pit Auburn and Oregon against each other. Number One against Number Two.

The Bowl Championship Series executives and the fans of this stupid system are breaking their arms patting themselves on the back. They think it’s fantastic that the system has worked--the two teams that “should” be in the title game actually are!

Meanwhile, the Football Championship Series, formerly known as Division 1-AA, has a tournament that will pit two 12-2 teams against each other. Both teams played their way into the title game, the way a championship should work. Nobody in 1-AA is crying for Appalachian State, a traditional power and the top seed, because they were soundly beaten in the quarterfinals of a tournament. In the BCS system, App State would probably be in the championship game because they “should” be.

But Division 1-AA, just like Division II and Division III, has a real tournament. It’s had one for years, and nobody has ever claimed a negative impact on academics or any of the other endless baloney that gets thrown around as reasons for Division 1-A, aka BCS, not having a tournament.

I think that should end. The once-proud bowl lineup has lost all its value. When teams with 6-6 records qualify for bowls, how special are they? Flush the bowls; install a tournament.

Here’s my Christmas gift to the NCAA, a proposal for a Division 1-A Tournament. Start with 16 teams--sure, you’re going to get arguments every year about the teams that don’t get in, but that happens in basketball too. And there are 65 teams in the basketball tournament. So pick the top 16 and be done with it.

A 16-team tournament gives you three playoff rounds and a championship game. That totals 15 games--eight in the first round, four in the quarterfinals, two semifinal games and the title game. The top 15 bowl games, which means the five BCS “series” bowls plus the next tier but not the Humanitarian Bowl, can be the automatic tournament game sites for the first three to five years. After that, cities can bid to be playoff sites just like they do in basketball.

If cities want to keep hosting bowl games that attract 6-6 teams, they can. Nobody will watch, which is how it should be.

Announce this plan at the beginning of the 2012 season, implement it for the 2015 season, and by 2020 you’ve got a football tournament. Presto.

The NCAA can send me a thank-you card any day now. I am not holding my breath.

Surviving, Not Inspiring

A friend from high school made the mistake recently of telling me in an email that I inspired her. Although I tried to be gentle because she couldn’t have known, I replied with firmness that I really don’t like to be called an inspiration.

It was two years ago that I was undergoing chemotherapy for testicular cancer. Most everyone who knows me says that I approached chemo with a great attitude and unbelievable strength.

They were right about my attitude. I was extremely optimistic and upbeat about chemo, and I had good reason. The urologist who diagnosed my cancer, the oncologist who treated me, and an oncological nurse who is also a good friend all confirmed that my particular form of cancer was curable. The chemo protocol that I was facing has a 90 percent success rate. I liked my chances.

I tried to keep a positive attitude during chemo, which was a three-month ordeal. I got infusions of two drugs every day for five days, then two weeks off, then another five-day week of infusions. I was getting a third drug administered every Tuesday for nine weeks.

As I was about to start chemo, some friends told me I should write about the experience as it was happening. Keep a blog, they said. I actually attempted to do just that. I still have the notes from the first couple of days of chemo. Absolutely nothing was happening, and I wondered what the big deal was.

Then the fourth day came along. On that day, two chemo drugs hit me like a runaway train. I was tired; no, I was exhausted. I hit a level of fatigue that I truly didn’t know existed. A day later, I felt worse. On the day after my first five-day infusion week, I hit the jackpot: I was exhausted, weak, nauseated and I had chills. I felt horrible and, with my wife working that day, I got to feel it all by myself.

In addition to those symptoms, which my oncologists and the nursing staff had warned me about, I was extremely emotional. I burst into tears for no reason at all, at the oddest times.

I was sure at that moment that I had made the right decision by not starting a blog. I wouldn’t have been able to accurately describe just how horrible I felt. Two years later, I still haven’t found the words that truly describe the complete absence of strength and vitality that chemo caused.

These days I feel strong and I haven’t shown any signs of tumors for a year and a half. I’m grateful for cancer research and for the dedication of the medical professionals who specialize in oncology. But I don’t feel like an inspiration.

I feel like a survivor. And that’s more than enough for me.

Waging the Annual War

About 20 years ago I worked for a small company in St. Louis that was operated by the two men who had founded the enterprise. They were the original odd couple: One was an Italian Catholic and the other was a Jew.

By apparent coincidence, the staff of just under a hundred people was roughly split evenly between Jews and gentiles.

It was an eye-opener for someone who had never spent a lot of time with Jewish people. I got to ask all sorts of questions about Jewish traditions, beliefs and holidays. In fact, this company was the first place I ever worked where we had an annual Holiday Party to make sure everyone felt included.

We had our party after New Years to make scheduling easier. Look at the calendar sometime and figure out when you can schedule a celebration for a hundred people without bumping into some December religious observance, Christian or Jewish.

What got me thinking about that experience is the fact that, once again, the usual suspects are bleating about the war that the liberals and their misguided ideas about political correctness are waging against Christmas. The outrage of these people has become more predictable than the sunrise, making it pretty easy to ignore.

The usual target is the retailers who have instructed employees to wish customers Happy Holidays instead of a Merry Christmas. Those weak retailers bending to the will of the liberals. Predictable.

So the thing that really captured my attention was hearing people I know, people who don’t have talk shows and ratings to worry about, talking about the war on Christmas. Specifically, they’re railing against those who wish everyone Happy Holidays. So I decided it’s time to sound off.

Look, there’s one thing retailers care about, and it is not political correctness. It’s sales. Retailers like selling things to customers. Several years ago, they caught onto the fact that Jewish people like to buy things toward the end of the year and give them as Hanukkah gifts. With a strong desire to avoid alienating any potential customer, retailers started telling employees to wish customers Happy Holidays. That’s a greeting that covers everybody.

Trust me on this: Liberals have no influence over the retail industry. Unless they can drive down sales. If you think liberals have the power to dampen sales during Christmas and Hanukkah, you just don’t pay attention.

So have yourself a merry little Christmas. Or a happy Hanukkah. And if you don’t like hearing “Happy Holidays” from employees at particular store, shop at another store.