Joe Gilbert and Jake Burns’ 2018 NFL Draft Big Boards 1.0: 20-11
March 20, 2018Bradley Zimmer and the Spectre Cast On Prospects
March 21, 2018Both of my grandfathers passed away in their 60s. When we’re young, 60 seems old. They were both weathered and grey, working harder through their respective lives than I could ever imagine. Both passed away from heart issues, both while on vacation.
When my dad’s father passed, I was still very young and the loss, while I’m told made me sad, didn’t quite hit me the way that it did when my mom’s father passed away. I was nine at the time, and had spent many weekends with him and my grandmother as my parents were working weekends to help provide a lifestyle and future for me and my two sisters.
My dad is now in his 60s, turning so a little less than two years ago. I have his nose and his hairline but a fraction of his work ethic. He’s a fireman and paramedic by trade, but never stops moving. He can fix or build anything, so he’s always the one asked to help. My parents have a place up on the lake, but when there he’s working on the boat or deck or landscaping. It’s a lifestyle of constantly being on the go.
The good news is that today’s medical landscape is much different than it was a few decades ago, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say these magic numbers were dancing in the back of my mind. I’ve had multiple friends already lose their fathers, and the mere thought is terrifying.
A few years back, I found myself careening a bit. My career is one rooted in sales. But when it comes to investments, you’re selling something you can’t touch to someone who thinks they don’t need them, let alone want them. One would think making people money would be something that would sell itself, but it most certainly does not. So when you marry my competitive nature with sales goals and the finite nature of the calendar where no matter how hard you work in a given year, it all resets just because we flip from December to January… Things tend to go from simmer to boil without any sort of safety valve.
As that water begins to boil, and you add ingredients like fatherhood, non-profit work, and the daily oversight of a website that trades in a 24-hour news cycle, and things can easily begin to pour over the top. I found myself being mentally triggered by the littlest of things—many of which were beyond my control—and letting them derail my day.
I never went the way of medication. Several of my co-workers have, but I’ve always been stubborn like that. Instead, I just stopped. I stopped getting caught up. I stopped doing things that led to higher stress and more anxiety. Rather than rushing to a meeting because I’m trying to squeeze in one last phone call, I leave 15-30 minutes earlier. Rather than getting tangled in the minutae, I try to focus on things that are strictly related to process or results. It’s been life-changing in a lot of ways as 2017 was a fantastic year, professionally and personally as the two have more to do with one another than any of us would like to admit.
Which brings me to Tyronn Lue. It’s easy to log in to Twitter and spew 200-something characters about what your starting lineup would be if you were the head coach. It’s easy to spout nonsense about his compensation or the “luxury” of getting to coach a team with LeBron James and a bottomless wallet.
It’s just as easy to compare the dark-haired, thin assistant coach from the picture above, and the slightly heavier, greyer one in the picture within the body of this post and realize that that shit didn’t just happen because he went from 38 years old to 40.
I appreciate Tyronn Lue. I think he appreciates me. You get to know people a bit after covering them on a near-nightly basis, and it doesn’t hurt that we are just a few years apart in age. He shoots the shit with me before the microphones go on, and sometimes well after they’ve gone off. It’s just different with Ty.
Which is why it’s been that much tougher to watch on as this season has progressed, leading up to his stepping back earlier this week. Earlier this year, he began taking his post-practice media appearances on a stool rather than standing against the backdrop as he had the prior two seasons. His walk from the media room to the locker room after games takes just a bit longer than usual. And then there are the absences. One here, one there. In a vacuum, they were nothing, but as the season progressed, it was clear that something wasn’t right.
As I sit and realize how much stress my career and ancillary items was giving me, I can’t even begin to imagine what stress comes with the territory of having championship expectations from the minute you step foot into training camp. Add in the travel and the uncertainty of the roster and the persistent slide down the standings, and you’re talking crescendo type levels. Spitting up blood? Inability to sleep? So much dizziness that you can’t go back out on the floor for the second half of a game that you’re winning? There is no amount of money that makes these types of issues tolerable.
While I had grown concerned, I never really found the chance to ask Ty if he was OK. Given how this all unfolded, there’s a good chance he would’ve simply said yes and moved along, but after all: asking is what journalists do. What we get in response is up to the respondent.
The good news is, it sounds like Ty will be back sooner than later. Other coaches have tended to take way more time to deal with similar issues. Urban Meyer effectively retired because of his. My hopes are not that Lue gets back quickly, but that he gets back healthy. The Cavaliers are in good hands with Larry Drew, but I can no longer look at this situation through the prism of how the team does when someone’s life and lifestyle hang in the balance.
Wins are great, but life is fragile. And once broken, tends to be irreparable. We all have different tipping points as to when we feel the need to ensure things stay together, but it’s keeping them together that is truly the most important part.