It's amazing how one person can have such a strong affect on a person's life. This summer is the summer of two things in the sports world: Lance Armstrong and steroids.
Lance Armstrong has had a tremendous impact on so many people's lives over the past decade. You all know the story: it started when Armstrong, an up-and-coming American cyclist, was diagnosed with cancer. He then vowed to beat the disease and continue his cycling career. He not only beat multiple types of cancer and continued his career as a pro cyclist, but he destroyed the record for consecutive Tour de France victories, essentially making him the most dominant performer in his sport (and arguably any sport) of all time. He is now the seven-time champion of the most prestigious bike race in the world, and he went out on top. His story is an inspiration to not only cancer patients who are battling life-threatening diseases, but to Americans everywhere who struggle with their everyday troubles. One man took on the daunting task of beating cancer and becoming a champion, and now other Americans have more hope for their futures.
On the other end of the spectrum this summer are steroids. While Armstrong was suggested to be taking illegal substances (mostly by jealous Frenchmen), he passed all sorts of drug tests throughout his seven-year run as the Tour de France champion. The same cannot be said for a handful of major league baseball players this year. With the release of Jose Canseco's book earlier this year, the images of many future hall of fame baseball players were tainted. One man, Jose Canseco, had a very negative effect on many people's lives. That's not to say he did the wrong thing, per se--telling the truth was the right thing to do, though Canseco's motives may have been crooked. When Congress decided to investigate (ridiculous in the first place, but that's another issue), Mark McGwire, the one-time single-season home run king and my personal childhood idol, came off looking terrible. He pled the fifth amendment rather than categorically denying steroid usage, which essentially meant he was guilty of using steroids in the past. Even as a (then) 19-year-old baseball fan, I was crushed. It was as though everything McGwire did that I admired had been wiped away.
The fallout from the Congressional hearings was even worse. Questions arose surrounding the possible steroid use by other players not named by Canseco--including the 1993 Phillies, who collectively were my favorite sports team of all time, and the first team I ever loved. While former players from that team deny the allegations, there's no denying that something is fishy about that season--almost every hitter in that lineup had a career year, as well as pitchers in the rotation and bullpen who had previously been very mediocre. That's what made the team so loveable--they were raw, rude, and raucous--three favorite traits among Philadelphia sports fans. But somehow, the team came together and had an amazing season, damn near winning the World Series. Now all those youthful perceptions of mine have been dashed away. The memories are still there, but they are now tainted by the cloud of steroids.
Two of the greatest baseball-related moments of this year for me involved Rafael Palmeiro. In that same hearing where McGwire came off looking terrible, Palmeiro came out and assertively denied ever having used steroids. I was beaming afterwards. Then, during the baseball season, Palmeiro reached one of baseball's most prized milestones--the 3000 hit club. Palmeiro is now on the very short list of players who have 3000 hits and 500 home runs. While I don't care much for the 500 home run club, since it seems even players like Richie Sexson and Adam Dunn will eventually end up in it, the 3000 hit club is a truly prized honor in my mind. Hits are the ultimate measure of offensive production--they take hustle, discipline, and power all into account. I truly respected Palmeiro when he reached this plateau.
Then, the unthinkable happened. Palmeiro tested positive for steroids under Major League Baseball's new drug testing program. Officially, it means he will be suspended for 10 games. Unofficially, it means his entire career has been tainted. What's worse is that it exposes his testimony in the Congress hearing as an outright lie. Palmeiro not only used steroids, but when he was put under oath and asked about using them, he told a bold-faced lie. When I heard the news, I felt like crying. There was a small ray of hope when Raffy said he may have
unknowingly taken a banned substance, but a secondary report came out yesterday explaining that he tested positive for steroids and steroids only. Consider my hopes shattered.
With the growing pressure on MLB to crack down on steroid usage in recent years, many lives have been changed. First of all, players who used to be sure-fire hall of famers, like Sammy Sosa, McGwire, and Palmeiro, have all been put under the microscope. Now Palmeiro is officially a culprit, while Sosa's production is way down this year. McGwire's tape-measure blasts and the thrill ride that was his then-record-setting 70 home run season will all be scrutinized in the future. His legacy will no longer be home runs, but steroids.
Besides baseball players who have obviously been affected by the changes, many fans' lives have been affected. What's going to happen to the 8-year-old kid who idolizes Sammy Sosa? His heart's going to be crushed just like mine was by McGwire and Palmeiro. He's lost his baseball idol. If there's anything more demoralizing to a kid than seeing your idol brought down a few pegs, I can't think of it. This could dramatically alter a generation of future baseball players, thus sending the future of baseball into a tailspin.
***
It's a sad part of life that one person can have such a major negative impact on one or many people's lives, but that's what power is. The Powerful can change lives with a single stroke of the pen, push of a button, or a simple "yes" or "no." The Powerless are the ones who are vulnerable to the decisions of the Powerful. In the majority of these situations, the Powerful have not earned their power, and the Powerless have done nothing worthy of relinquishing power. In fact, in many cases, power works opposite of merit.
I think about how powerful or powerless I am in life and how I get that way. I think the definition of frustration is when you put maximum effort into something and yet remain vulnerable to the wishes of the Powerful. I can't think of a single relationship I'm in where I wield power. My parents wield ultimate power over me, mostly because they control so many things I rely on to live. They own the house I live in, the cars I drive, and even the computer I'm using to type this. If my parents wanted to (which I hope they don't) they could take everything away from me, just like that. The same goes for my bosses at work. No matter what I do, I can't gain power at work because one can only gain power if a Powerful is willing to relinquish it, or unless someone more powerful takes it by force. I have almost zero power at work. If I slack off or call out a lot, my hours will be cut and therefore my paychecks will shrink until I get fired for doing a bad job (not that I'm doing this, but play along). If I work hard every day, my paychecks hit a maximum. It doesn't matter if I work harder than a given point, my paycheck will stay the same. This is my power limit.
My thinking about this started the other day at work--I was getting angry with my job. My boss nitpicks and micromanages me in all the wrong situations. I do a pretty damn good job for a guy who's fairly new at the place, but I've never gotten a word of praise from my boss. All I get is the same mantras that I already know: "Gotta get four per bin," "Get everything out of the bins," "What's this stuff here? Well here's what you can do with it..." I KNOW. I KNOW. I KNOW. It's my goddamn job to know. I'm not screwing up, so don't worry about me. This micromanagement combined with the fact that I'm getting fucked on my hours--I get help from another supervisor every day instead of being told to start a half hour earlier than I do--was really getting on my nerves.
When I work, I think about a lot of different stuff--my friends, girls, school, girls at school, how I'm hungry, how the sweat on my nose is really annoying me, and girls. Well, being the nocturnal workhorse I am, I don't meet many new people, and thus have a limited number of girls to think about. Eventually it got to the girl I didn't want to think about--my ex-girlfriend. Just writing this is making me angry. I thought about how throughout that whole relationship, she was always the Powerful and I was the Powerless. I didn't know it then, and I don't know if she knew it then, but I decided today that the correct term for what happened to me is "played." I got played, straight-up. Like a Stratocaster by Hendrix--turned upside-down, smashed on the ground, and lit on fire.
I'm not just talking about the end of the relationship. I mean throughout the whole thing. This was an epic showing of being played. I got played like it was an art form. I gave into every tantrum, lost every fight, and at the end even
gave permission to date other people while I stayed committed to the relationship. Well, eventually I hit the fan. My vegetables were steamed. I gave an ultimatum, and that was that. I finally got my way. I was no longer the played.
Then I took her back. PLAYED. Like Shawn Bradley. I stuck with her long enough to realize I no longer wanted to date a girl who had broken my heart and made me feel worse than anyone ever had. At this point, thanks to support from my best friends, I knew the jig was up. I couldn't beat around the bush anymore and I just broke up with her. Finally, I'd gotten my foot out of the bear trap. It was badly injured, but ready to begin nursing back to health.
I took two steps and BAM! My foot's stuck in another bear trap. We decided to be friends.
This is the lesson for this entry. If you take one thing from this entry, it should be this.DO NOT STAY FRIENDS WITH A SERIOUS EX.I'm going to repeat it a few times just in case.
DO NOT STAY FRIENDS WITH A SERIOUS EX.DO NOT STAY FRIENDS WITH A SERIOUS EX.DO NOT STAY FRIENDS WITH A SERIOUS EX.Okay, hopefully that's enough. Anywho, whattayaknow, it happened again. I got flat-out PLAYED. Again. Like "Yesterday"--an all-time record number of times.
At this point in the relationship, it was safe to say that I was one of three things
a) in it for the sex
b) just trying to be nice, or
c) being a stupid young boy.
One or more of those might be correct. I really don't know the right answer. But the point is, I was in it for all the wrong reasons. I'm pretty sure at this point that she was too. After all, she was always the Powerful and I was always the Powerless. She could have banged my dad and I probably would have forgiven her.
Don't get me wrong, I don't blame myself completely. She's the devil. But for the first time really since the break-up, I gave good thought to why we broke up. I mean, I'd pondered it before, but never really gave an in-depth look at the relationship as a whole. By the way, I don't know how many levels of closure I have to go through to finally get out of this ditch I've dug for myself. But moving on, the other day was the first time I really put blame on myself for anything in the relationship.
I don't like dwelling on the past. I'm progressive-minded. I hate to worry about stuff that I can't change. And I never hold people accountable for their past actions, because people make mistakes, learn from them, and grow. I was a stupid kid back then, and now I've learned some new things and I'm a different person. It's the same thing with a person who lawfully makes a mistake, in my opinion--well, not exactly the same, but sort of. When somebody shoplifts for the first time, unless they're a klepto, they tend to feel remorse for their action. Sometimes they return what they shoplifted, sometimes they vow never to do it again. Either way, that person has grown a little. That's how I look at my past mistakes. As long as I see my wrongdoing and try to never do it again, I'm improving myself.
Now I'm not (as) stupid anymore. I'm a little older, a little wiser. I know what to look out for.
But I'm amazed as to how one person could have such a negative effect on my life, a whole year after I've been seriously involved with her. I don't blame her completely for my social cocoon, poor grades, or disregarding of responsibilites; that's all my fault to a large degree. But it's shocking that a series of events with one person can set off such a huge change in a person's life.
[God, this thing is rambling. If you're still reading at this point, more power to you. I've gone off on so many tangents that I had no intention of going off onto originally, but stuff keeps popping into my head and I feel compelled to write about it. Bear with me; it won't be much longer.]
I just remembered something else I figured out for the first time recently. This change in my habits didn't start when we broke up. It started when we got serious at first. Once I became devoted to her, everything slipped. My senior slide never really began until after Thanksgiving of senior year. Following that were the half-assed essays I wrote for college applications. Following that was the mounting excuses given to teachers as to why my work wasn't coming in on time or at all. Following that was the decision that I didn't really want to go to UPenn, even though it was in the perfect location and a much better school than Penn State. I lowered all my priorities once I put her up on a pedestal. Again, it wasn't her fault completely. But she also never really pushed me to do what was best for me rather than give all my time to her. I specifically remember my punishment for doing terribly in my AP Biology class--I had to do 100 push-ups in a row, and I was grounded until I could.
I didn't do jack shit to reach that goal until at least a couple months after the punishment was given. I asked her to help me out at the suggestion of my father--"Make me do push-ups before I get on the phone with you." She refused. I never understood it. It was like she didn't want me to put my mind to anything except her. Eventually, I started doing the push-ups on my own when I found out I wouldn't even be able to go to any proms without doing them. I guess that was my last straw. But I never got to that point, because once I got another bad grade, my dad just gave up on me. He cut me loose. At first I thought it was a godsend--finally, my dad was giving me some slack. I thought I would thrive in the environment. I still haven't really reached any of his or my own expectations, and it's been over two years.
I guess it goes to show you, one person
can make a difference.
