The Warrior vs. The Explorer Part 2

I recommend you read part 1 of The Warrior vs. the Explorer 

It's taken me nearly 14 years to get back to the Philippines. And if its a bookend this time around., it's a fitting one as I'm here, with intention to use basketball. In that, it is just like the first time. In '99, the goal was to get on with a team in the Philippine Basketball Association (PBA). So I came over having sent my footage ahead. I remember getting here and thinking, "I don't. Even know where to begin." Cell phones weren't a part of my regular rotation yet. But I eventually worked out for this one team and a week or two later was on my way back stateside. Thought I'd be back the very next year but by Janury of 2000 I was in seminary gettin" drowned in heady speak about the Yahwist and Elohist blah blah blah.

All these years later there's still Jolibee everywhere, basketball craze and traffic. But I'm here in a position to learn oh and my wife came too. She wasn't here in '99. Not sure she would have been down with who I was then anyway Lol. But this time I have a team with me of phenomenal people ready to serve and receive. This time basketball has a utility that can't be stifled. And yet the first trip is inextricably connected to the second because 6ixth Man was birthed from the first trip. SUBMISSION TO TRUTH may have been solidified during the uncertainty of whether I would ever play professionally. It was in the Philippines and on the plane home that I had to admit I wasn't able to control destiny the way I'd anticipated up to that point in my life. Tenacity is one thing but nothing could dispute that the PBA was out of reach and quite frankly it was a motive purifier. It's quite possible that last 14 years have been my condensed wandering in the wilderness. Being back here could be a passage through to promised land of contentment in simply "going hard" to share both the authenticity of Jesus Christ's ethos and have closure. There's a big picture and maybe now I'll ne able to see it in serving kids who have far less than I did. Good to be back in the land of Lumpia and Adobo Chicken. #longroad #2wisdom

Middle Skool

They say that junior high is one of the most awkward times of a person's life, particularly for males. To the most manly lookin' go the spoils. And the spoils include attention, affirmation, a glimmer of fame and even preferential placement. So if you're undersized, a late bloomer, a plane Jane, or the like you better be good at something. And by something I don't mean French Horn. You better be an athlete, have wealthy parents who host your early-teen parties and personalize your invites or be talented in a YouTube-worthy sort of fashion. 

I was at my cousin's basketball game yesterday and ear hustled some conversations while observing the middle school animal in its natural habitat. Powder Foundation? At 12/13? For real? Hair, nails and flirtation? These girls are already in competition mode. Survival of the cutest is the rule. Well maybe not but it's certainly up for debate.

And then these boys, these males, these hybrids. They're like half child half 'grunter/snorter". I saw one complain because he thought he got fouled. He was competing fiercely, attempting to define himself with basketball prowess, sportin' neoprene sleeve and Dwyane Wade-esque Nike combat gear. But alas, when he had the ball stolen from him and tripped, he resorted to...tears. His dad hoisted him and held him like an infant in his arms. It was the kind of episode that would ruin a high school male whose machismo is permanently infused already. But these budding alphas are a mysterious, impressionable blend. They want an identity in the worst way.

The only reason I ended up on that campus yesterday was because my cousin hit me up like, "Hey, Norman I have a basketball game at South Pointe at 3:15 if you want to come." Translation: "Can you come, can you come, please, please bro, come man, I'm really really good. It would mean everything...!!!" I had to go once the interpretation came through. LOL

Maybe puberty is the most volatile transition because it's so tangible, so immediate, so public and so conflicting. Maybe we hated Junior High because we didn't have a tour guide through human development, a mentor/confidant to help manage the journey.

THE YEAR OF THE DREAM DEFERRED?

As 2012 ended I realized I was having a mid-life crisis at only 37 years old. Maybe it wasn't so much mid-life that defined the crisis as it was just life in general. I looked in the mirror a lot last year, mostly to count the greys in my hair which is thinning a very strange way. I saw greys in the go-tee as well. Some nights I couldn't sleep in 2012 and I developed this crook in my neck that I thought was from sleeping weird but who knows. I normally do a little traveling throughout the year for basketball camps and/or speaking engagements. In 2012 I did no traveling. But I did a lot of other things.

I completed a full school year of teaching 7th and 8th graders at Amelia Earhart Middle School in Riverside California. I was laid-off at the end of the year due to budgetary constraints. While teaching, I coached varsity basketball for Western Christian High School in Upland, California. In the Spring of 2012, my wife noticed a coaching position opening at Columbia International University in South Carolina and told me it was a fit. CIU didn't even have a team yet and they still don't. They were searching for a coach to come in and build a quality, Christ-centered, mission-minded, character-driven basketball program. So I stepped to the stage quickly, figuring I'd at least get an interview for a job at a University that doesn't even have a basketball team yet. I assumed the criteria they had thrown out would deter coaches who just want to raise money and field a team of athletes. My thinking was that for what I lack in college coaching experience I make up for with conviction and a commitment to developing men regardless of outside pressure. I'm the guy with nothing to lose, or at least that's how I live out most pursuits. I called the basketball office 3-4 times to follow up and see if the search committee was screening applicants. I told my wife I might need to hop on a plane and go interview. We started getting our heads around moving from sunny So Cali (where we riot not rally) to THE SOUTH. After the application was submitted and the clock began ticking, I realized I really wanted this job.

I wasn't going to be inheriting someone else's damaged goods and nightmare recruits who go to Christian schools to womanize and dissipate. 'Cause that's what happens all over the nation. Athletes who can't qualify for Division I or II schools due to academics or eligibility infractions often end up going the NAIA (National Association of Intercollegiate Athletics) route. So there are some Christian schools with real basketball pedigree. Unfortunately, athletics is God to many of the guys on the hoop squad and spiritual formation never takes precedence. So I was thinking, "what could be better than starting from the ground up and producing a character driven, Christ centered team of competitive sons of ....guns." I'm all about destroying the opponent within the scope of the sport. But man...to be able to do that in a way that develops men into true followers of God with his truth as the GPS. No joke, I thought this was a God sent opportunity and felt it'd be easy to take being cut from the Riverside Unified School District teaching team. You know how it is. If the girl or guy you're dating says, "It's not you; it's me," you can deal with it easier if there's someone hotter on deck.

Between March 26 and May 21, I maintained conversations with the CIU Human Resources assistant and even the athletic director. I didn't get the job, an interview or any official indication that I wasn't being considered. And it was funny because all the while, I was in other communications with a church about coming onto their staff full-time when my teaching contract ended. The lead pastor of the church had prayed with me one-on-one that I would get the Columbia coaching position even though he wanted me on his team. He even put in a call to a fellow alum from his seminary who he thought was working at CIU. On June 10 I started working at a church. And since I was technically still head coach of the Western Christian Fighting Lancers Boys Basketball program, I figured I'd still have my coaching outlet. But by  August of 2012 I was neither a college nor high school coach. What happened to the "someone hotter" waiting in the wings? I didn't get the college coaching job and now I'm not even a coach at all. Oh and all the private training I was doing dried up too. Basketball players working out with me decided that didn't want to anymore. Really? Did my Chevrons get stripped from my uniform in 2012? Felt like it but as I write this I'm realizing that I downplayed that too.

If 2012 was a basketball game, the 1st and 2nd halves looked nothing alike. But I am adjusting and I do like the place to which I've arrived in many respects. Teaching the Bible, counseling young and not-so-young and structuring programming for spiritual growth is what I'm doing now. The exhilaration is not the same. But the purpose seems to be. More to come in 2013. I am doing a basketball camp in the Philippines under the name 6IXTH MAN in April though.

Do You Suffer from Public Embarrassment Syndrome?

I can't remember the last time I was embarrassed in public. But here's what I do remember. The year was 1992 and I was a junior in high school. I was a varsity basketball player at West Covina High School but  about 10 months earlier in the spring of 1991 I was trying to make the jump from junior varsity. Most of the spring consisted of blacktop scrimmaging, some gym drill work and weight lifting. I barely played on junior varsity so I was lookin' at a long shot 'cause that's just the way it is when you're invisible and there's practically a full roster returning the following season. Long story short, I played like I was runnin' from gun fire...with freakish adrenaline. I even dunked on one of the returning players to which coach said, "You just dunked on the best 4-man in the league." Yo, that guy could've been Blake Griffin in King Kong's body for all I cared. I wanted to play Varsity.

Fast forward to winter of 1992 though and I'm getting garbage time minutes - the ones you get when the game is decided and you can't cost your team the game. One game in particular the clock probably wound down to about 30 seconds or so. Coach calls, "Coulter..." and I sprint to the table to check in. Ball hit my hands with about 7 seconds left and I'm so nervous my body does kind of this snake-like motion as I catapulted an ill-fated 3-pointer toward the rim. I BRICKED!

I was a proper victim of Public Embarrassment Syndrome (P.E.S.), not so much because my shot attempt looked like reptile venom being spewed forth but rather because all my hard work the year before had been met with a fecal reward. And isn't that much of life? Have you ever given all you had and gotten something back that didn't appear equal to your output? It's easy to build expectations in your mind and sell those expectations to the world. And it's only a problem if the image you've created has poor resolution. Could it be that embarrassment is a product of our own illuminations? When we bring attention and spotlight to things that haven't yet occurred in our lives, we build reputations on credit. We promise people we'll "play big minutes" because we believe we've earned them. And what are loved ones supposed to do? Of Course they'll buy what you're selling. But the proper way to avoid P.E.S. is simply to walk humbly in all your pursuits. I sat the freakin' bench my junior year but I started the next year and made a college basketball team after that. Timing and the resolve to get up and fight is more valuable than we know.

Norman the IMMATURE

What's funny? Advertising Wisdom and modeling stupidity. LOL

Yesterday I was at a stop light ready to turn right on red when I saw pedestrians. You know how they stand on the edge of the curb practically leaning into the street and you don't know if they see you or not? So I waited. And the car behind me began to tap his horn. I hate that. So me being the king of "Petty Behavior" decided I wasn't going to turn after all. I'm gonna let this "guy" behind me honk in frustration, which he did.

Finally, he turns right with me as the light turns green and whips onto my left to look at me. That's the second thing I hate, drivers who make everything personal. So he shook his head in disdain, maligning and berating me with looks that kill. But yo, did I mention already how petty I am? We arrived in tandem to the next stoplight and I looked at him. I thought that's what he wanted right? So I rolled my window down and asked him if he had something he'd like to say. He didn't. Now there were two people in my car taller than 6'5" and black. He was one person, smaller in stature who nearly hit a pedestrian as he made his ensuing left turn.

Little things always have implications don't they. I watched the Los Angeles "On-a-roll" Clippers play the second game of a back-to-back in Utah after destroying Boston the night before. It's been said that the possibility of failure is greatest after the elation of victory. But if small things and seemingly insignificant reactions are a sign of poise and professional pedigree, Chris Paul and the gang are the epitome and I am a budding novice. The Clippers overcame a 19-point deficit in the thin air of Utah one night after a nice comfortable home win. I on the other hand responded like a child because someone tried to dictate my actions with his car horn. I am the driver I hate. 6ixth Man = Wisdom? Last night I sat my wisdom on the bench but there will be another game soon enough. Ain't no shame in a rematch with pride. Time to start a streak of humility.

THE ISO PLAY

In basketball an isolation play (the "ISO") is me takin' you straight to the cup (basket) and embarrassing you in front of your family. But roundball purists would say the individual skill to beat a guy one-on-one is overdone. Realists who live by modern assessments of the game would say, "Ain't no team game without a couple of really good one-on-one players." Who's right?

Isolation is an art form if you've watched how some of these NBA hoopers evade their human obstacles. I mean, that's what a defender is right? An obstacle? There's 30 teams in the NBA and they hold onto about 12-13 players who actually suit up. That's just under 400 jobs for some of the best athletes in the world. And yet of the 400 of them how many are Kevin Durant-like and can get off any shot at will. You've got to consider the ingredients of the rarest players currently in the league. Durant is 6'11" with, I'm told, a 7'10" wing span and guard ball handling skills. Lebron James is 6'9" and 250 pounds and Kobe Bryant has the coordination of a European soccer player. My point being that the isolation game requires either thousands of hours of rigorous practice, not ironically, in isolation or freakish physical advantages a la Shaquille O'neal's mountainous frame. Either you isolate yourself in preparation so you can destroy your opponent when you get him one-on-one or you punish foes because you have natural ability to do it.

I guess what I'm saying is that the ability to thrive in isolated situations is not common, even among the elite athletes of the world. Most people rarely encounter confrontation and so combat is both foreign and grossly intimidating. Most aren't prepared for a one-on-one and don't have the inherent skills to triumph in a one-on-one. And yet what do we see in the NBA and in life? I see lot of people attempting one-on-one exploits with one-on-none skills. And is life not similar as we battle various addictions, fears and insecurities with prideful hearts? There's a handful of people in sports who can do what they want when they want, again because of the countless hours of prep and /or physical prowess. So how do we become good in life's isolation play you ask? It's starts with humility and respect. Are we humble enough to admit weakness and risk being vulnerable? And do we respect the opponent (i.e. life's challenges) enough to prepare spiritually?

Far Below Basic

Can a person be taught not to hate, taught to value others, taught to live with integrity? A person can be taught to do just about anything but in reflecting on Newtown, Connecticut and Sandy Hook Elementary, I'm reduced back to the minimum of what it means to be human and how to teach that. 

Suddenly there's ample discussion of legislation because law is where we go when we're so disturbed, so afraid that we fear character development is too methodical. It takes too long to teach a person to value truth, introspection, responsibility, respect, etc. It's easier to turn all attention toward mandating which firearms are acceptable in civil society. That's not to say this is futile discourse but yo, there's still the reality of evil tendencies being a result of some other deficit. It seems like evil is always relegated to the realm of insanity. If someone shoots, maims, runs over another human being, they must be crazy. I submit thought that decay in any community is always possible even among the sane and coherent. Fundamentally, you don't have to be inherently evil to act in heinous ways. All you need to be is...desperate without the virtue of tenacity and resolve.

A person who hasn't had a mentor, hasn't been coached through adversity to find the resilience that resides inside them, will resort to horrific ploys to find significance. The problem is that the proof of this theory is almost completely anecdotal - based on accounts of experiences and interactions we've all had with people who throw temper tantrums. Today's meltdown could result in a loss-of-life in 10-15 years. That's our reality. So what's the solution?

Respect the interior life. Understand that no matter your religious leanings, we are more than body and mind. We have a spirit that entails emotional health. We can't thrive in duplicity and hypocrisy. Think back. How much of your formal education was devoted to development of your personhood? Who addressed your character outside of citing you for cheating (if you ever even got caught). How many hours did you spend studying for Standardized tests, cramming for finals, writing as much as you could on 4x6 index cards because the professor granted you a legal cheat sheet? What about curriculum invites students to truly explore the meaning of their lives, their purposes/destinies beyond income and their role in the lives of others? Since we like rules so much, why don't we make character development a truer school & parental partnership that is as intentional as California Standardized Test preparation. We have an Academic Performance Index but no metric for the social development of students. Seem awkward?