Because that Was Yesterday

I’m a pot-stirrer by nature. Yet, I am also very much non-confrontational. My pot-stirring is geared toward the “sport” of discussion and debate more than for drawing argument. In the end, I’m really more interested in generating ideas and seeing where ideas intersect than creating division. In the end, I detest rancor and discord.

With such competing qualities about me, I shouldn’t be surprised to find myself in conflict from time to time. In fact, I should come to expect it – except when I’m minding my own business. This is exactly where I found myself this past weekend. Minding my own business one minute. Ambushed and fully engulfed in spiritual and emotional hostility the next.

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A Lesson on Grief from a Who Dat

The Who Dat Nation (a/k/a New Orleans Saints’ fans) are in a deep state of grief over the murder of our hopes of seeing our team play in Super Bowl LIII (a/k/a #SuperBowlLIE). The massacre occurred when at least two – if not three – highly-trained, qualified, and experienced NFL officials failed to call two obvious penalties on the same play – a pass interference and helmet-to-helmet contact. This cold-blooded slaughter of a people’s hopes and dreams was witnessed by 73,000 or so fans in the stands and millions of viewers around the world.

The Who Dats are banding together mourning that grief with an outpouring of reactions that range from petitions for justice, to lawsuits, to downright hilarious memes, to pulling our support of the upcoming game (#boycottbowl), to pulling our support for the advertisers who pad the coffers of the NFL. We are coming together in our little corners of the world to mourn our loss and to celebrate the season that was.

National sports’ pundits have chimed in with outrage. Even fans of other teams have lent compassion and support because “there but for the Grace of God….” Other fans have experienced “lesser losses” in the form of a bad call that may have cost them a game or a missed call that hampered their hopes of winning. So, they kinda know how we feel.

 “Football” losses and “real” losses are a lot alike. Read more

Justice is Served

I’ve spent the better part of the last twenty-five years pleading a case. My office was a courtroom where I arranged facts for a judge so that he or she would ultimately see things my way. Of course, there was usually someone on the other side of the room who arranged the facts differently in the hope that the judge would see things their way instead.

The judge didn’t always see things my way. If I’m being entirely forthright, then I must admit that sometimes my version of the facts wasn’t always the best version. Then, there were other times when I still feel strongly that the judge sided against me wrongly. My facts were better, but justice wasn’t served.

Don’t you feel a little like that when seeking justice in your own circumstances? You are dealing with a cheating spouse. Thieves run off with your car. A “friend” gossips behind your back. A drunk driver hits head on. Where’s the justice? Read more