Play by Play Day by Day with Amy Lawrence

There’s really only one reason I adopted a dog earlier this spring. One reason I was determined to rearrange my life for a canine. One reason I had to have an Australian Shepherd. One reason I spent months researching before I made my choice. Her name is Gemmy. If it’s possible to find the perfect dog, my mom and her husband did it nine years ago. A purebred long-haired blue merle Aussie who was raised to be a show dog but had zero interest in it. They brought her home at two years old, and we all fell in love. She was reserved with people until she got to know them, and since I didn’t see her every day, it was a challenge for me. I was determined to win her over, though. I never worked so hard for a dog’s affection in my life. “Gemmers” was my special nickname for her, and I would talk to her and call her and coax her until she was comfortable and until I could see that tuft of hair wiggle. Aussies don’t have tails, but they wiggle their little stumps. On special occasions when they’re really happy, they shake their whole back ends. It gave me so much joy to see her waggle at me or cock her head when I talked in a funny voice or squirm away when I tried to give her a hug. For some reason, she hated hugs; but now and then, she accepted them from me. I never told Mom, but I’m pretty sure she knew I looked forward to seeing Gemmy as much as I looked forward to seeing her on my visits.

Gemmy got bonked on the nose by a cat at the vet’s office when she was younger, so she wasn’t a huge fan. But she and my cat Cookie had a special relationship. Since both wanted to be social and right in the middle of the action, they learned to tolerate each other. At family holidays and get-togethers, they frequently ended up sharing the same 4×4 space with their backs to each other, refusing to concede an inch. When Cookie got sick, Gem put up with her hissing and growling like she understood. She was so well-behaved, Mom could take her to school and she would lay in front of the blackboard during math class. Senior citizens loved Gemmy, and she would sit next to them and keep them company at church functions. Funniest thing about Gem was her giant bellow of a bark…when the doorbell rang, when you opened the door, when you changed your tone of voice or asked her if she wanted to go for a ride. We introduced her to skype just so we could get her to bark when I talked to her through the computer screen. Mom says she would cock her head and stare at the radio when they listened to me on the air. I even called and left Gem mesages on the answering machine because I knew it would have the same effect. Just thinking about it made me laugh.

We lost our precious dog on Sunday. We only found out her kidneys were failing a few weeks ago, but there was nothing the vet could do. We’re heartbroken, but I’m so thankful for the time I got with her this summer. Mom and Gem came to visit for 10 days in June, and then our whole family spent a week at the beach. That’s where Gemmy stole Penny’s brand new stuffed turtle. The dog with three dozen toys who knew them all by name snatched up Turtle and took it for her own. She proudly trotted around our campsite with that yellow turtle in her mouth like she won a prize. That will be one of my favorite memories; that and the sight of her and Penny running in the sand along the ocean.

She’s the reason I had to have a dog. I searched high and low for one just like her, and I came pretty close. But there will never be another Gemmy.

Can’t believe it’s been five weeks since I last blogged. Wow. There were times over that stretch I really missed writing, moments when I actually craved an hour to blog. Work, travel, responsibilities at home, Penny, tennis, softball, basketball, lack of sleep, and vacation crowded out the blog; but over the rest of the summer, I’m determined to set aside time to write! I’m harboring plenty of ideas, including one that’s simmered on the back burner of my brain for more than a month.

On this weekend, though, as I re-enter the world of blogging, our nation grieves another terrible tragedy. An unspeakable, senseless act targeting random movie-goers who couldn’t wait to attend a premiere they anticipated for months. As I write, not all the victims have been identified. But the ones we know include a young man celebrating his birthday; a pair of 20-somethings who shielded their girlfriends from the spray of bullets and saved their lives; a 27-year-old Navy sailor; a 24-year-old aspiring media mogul; and a 23-year-old “trying to find her way in life.” Then there’s the youngest victim: a little 6-year-old girl. How is that posssible? How can the life of a first-grader be cut short in a movie theatre on a Thursday night in July by some monster who calls himself the Joker?? It’s not fair, and it absolutely breaks my heart. I know the rest of the nation feels the same.

So how do we respond? How do we find light in a world where it seems like the darkness wins way too often? In response to horrific tragedies, people often say things like “Live life to the fullest” and “Appreciate every moment since you have no idea what happens tomorrow.” Those suggestions are helpful, and ones that should be remembered. Dealing with the loss of a dozen lives in a Colorado movie theatre forces me to take a step back. I get so caught up in my personal routine and daily minutiae that I miss opportunities to be thankful. This weekend is a chance to count the blessings in my life, from the tiniest to the largest.

Where to begin? I can start by being thankful for a Saturday off. It was a day to catch up on sleep and slow down after two straight weeks of work. I’m thankful for a rare day when I feel like I accomplished everything I set out to accomplish. I’m finding solace in simple things: an evening run with the sun sinking low in the sky, burgers and veggies from the grill, flowers on the deck, and a cool night to open the windows.

Too often, I focus on the negative and what’s wrong with my life instead of staying humble and thankful for what I have. A healthy body and mind, a house that serves as a safe haven, the money to pay my mortgage, a car that may never stop running, 2 cats who make me laugh, a dog who never gets tired of me, several challenging jobs that give me a creative outlet, career goals about which I am passionate, a church where I can learn and teach, friends who refuse to leave me alone, two nieces that I cherish, two brothers who love me exactly the way I am, a mother who stays involved in every detail of my life and remains my biggest fan, and a God who sent his only Son to die on the cross for my sins. I can also be thankful for answered prayers down the road, hopes and dreams realized in the future.

Too often, I take for granted all the blessings in my life. But on this weekend, I’m reminded that thank you is a password — to a new perspective and new direction and fresh start. I’m thankful for the chance to wake up tomorrow and do better. That’s the best place to begin.

All I have to do is mention the name “Lebron James” on radio or twitter, and off you go. His name sparks an immediate reaction, just like a bolt of lightning from the sky. A passionate, volatile, emotional reaction. The responses are as varied as the kinds of flowers in a botanical garden. But that’s probably not the best analogy since most of the reaction isn’t sweet or pretty or flowery or pleasant. He’s the Tim Tebow of the NBA: a household name about whom everyone holds a strong opinion. Even the marginal fans who can’t name more than one of Lebron’s teammates will be happy to tell you what they think of him. Trust me, he’s the last person I thought I’d be blogging about before the NBA Finals. Not after his epic performance in Game 6 and his leadership in Game 7 of the East Finals propelled his Heat past my Celtics. I spent more than a hot second screaming at Lebron’s face on TV during that series. But there I was on ESPN Radio Sunday night defending Lebron from his numerous detractors…and here I am now doing the same.

It took more than 24 hours to sift through all your tweets about Lebron, and the creativity is impressive! After I solicited your reaction, you came up with dozens of reasons to hate him and root against him. Everything from a perceived arrogance to his desire to be liked by the fans to the way he announced his divorce with Cleveland in the now infamous “Decision.” One tweet accuses him of constant flopping and whining and being out of touch with reality. According to so many of you, Lebron is not clutch and not a team player and nowhere near as talented as Michael Jordan or Kobe Bryant, mostly because he doesn’t have a ring. When it comes to Lebron, the numbers don’t seem to carry much weight. Forget that’s he elevated his play in the postseason to carry Dwayne Wade and the rest of the Heat. Forget that he’s averaging more than 30 points per game (and nearly 10 rebounds) while defending every position from point guard to center. Forget that he recently earned his third MVP award despite facing more criticism and venom than any other athlete in the NBA.

It’s somewhat ironic that I’m a voice of reason when it comes to Lebron since his Heat unceremoniously ended Boston’s playoff run the last two seasons. I hate the way he embarrassed the Cavaliers and his hometown fans by forcing them to watch his free agent “Decision” like everyone else. It still makes me angry to recall how Cleveland found out he was leaving for South Beach on TV. But I can’t fault him for choosing Miami and the chance to play with one of his best friends. I can’t fault him for leaping at the opportunity to win championships (“not one, not two, not three…”) because that wasn’t going to happen with the Cavs.  Basketball is Lebron’s business, his career. Put yourself in his shoes and remember he was making a professional decision about what was best for his future. His immaturity showed in the way he announced his destination, but he’s expressed regret over that moment. After a year of playing in anger and lashing out at his detractors, he’s changed his attitude, outlook, and tone when dealing with the media and the fans. He’s learning and growing up and still carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’s mentally focused – a man on a mission.

Hard to predict what happens when the Heat and Thunder tip off in this highly-anticipated NBA Finals. Lebron may revert back to his previous Finals form when his scoring average dips almost 10 points below his production in other playoff series. He may not be able to handle the pressure, and his teammates may not provide enough support. You can be sure millions will root against him and say “I told you so” if he fails. As for me, inexplicably, I find myself hoping Lebron finally proves to everyone he’s a worthy champion – that for a few hours at least, it doesn’t matter what people say.

Over the last month, I’ve spent extra time thinking about women in sports broadcasting, specifically radio. A college student asked for my help with his senior project investigating females in sports media; so I answered a series of questions about how I got into this business, what obstacles I’ve faced along the way, what industry changes I’ve seen, and what can be done to create more opportunities for women. The introspection gave me a chance to look back with gratefulness at how far I’ve come and peak forward at how far I still have to go. There has definitely been progress in the last 15 years, but women in sports radio face an uphill climb that stretches to infinity and beyond. Just last week, a male listener took exception to a word I used in talking about the Thunder-Lakers playoff series. He sent me a tweet to tell me and tagged it by saying, “This is why women shouldn’t be allowed to talk about men’s sports.” While I’m certain his sentiment doesn’t represent every male listener, I’ve received countless messages of similar prejudice during my time in the business.

My ultimate career goal is to earn a job as a radio play-by-play announcer in the NBA (thus the title of my blog). If I happen to be the first female to reach that plateau, so be it. I didn’t set out to be a trailblazer, but it comes with the territory. Play-by-play is dominated by men, more than any other area of sports broadcasting. There are several women who call football and basketball games on TV like Doris Burke, Pam Ward, and Beth Mowins; and Suzyn Waldman serves as the analyst for Yankees’ radio. But in more than a decade of play-by-play, I’ve never once crossed paths with another female handling the same duties on radio. A couple female analysts and a handful of sideline reporters, yes; but play-by-play? No. This past winter, I had the privilege of filling in on a Hartford men’s basketball broadcast. More than 10 years as a play-by-play announcer, and that was my first men’s college game. I recently had a conversation with a company that hires radio talent for college sports broadcasts all over the US. Forty-nine schools with roughly five voices per school, and they don’t have one female voice. Not one! No sideline reporters or analysts and certainly no play-by-play announcers.

As I use this year to seek out new opportunities in this area, I anticipate resistance. As one NBA broadcaster reminds me, some people simply don’t want to hear a woman’s voice calling games on the radio, no matter how talented she is. Others will always see sports as a “man’s world,” no matter how knowledgeable and credible the female sportscaster. To that end, plenty of universities and pro teams see hiring a woman as a risk. Of course, I need experience to be considered a serious candidate for an NBA job, and that means putting more men’s basketball on my resume. That first men’s game in January was a HUGE step forward. While I always believed I could handle the speed of a men’s game, having the audio to prove it is like holding a winning lottery ticket.

There is no timeline…no true precedent…no road map to follow to the NBA. But I’ve come this far, so there’s no turning back. It’s truly a journey into the unknown, accomplished with baby steps. While there’s no way to know when that door will open, I will be ready when it does. All it takes is one team to give me a shot, and I’ll prove that a woman blazing a trail into NBA play-by-play isn’t as risky as it seems.

Most nights in my house, we’re all sitting within 10 square feet of each other. Me, Sugar, Ellie, and Penny. Never in my wildest dreams did I think adopting a dog would be such a blessing. Even though I did all the research about the right pet to add to the mix and even though we have a long history of Australian Shepherds in our family, there was no way to be sure if Penny would fit in. Admittedly, I was apprehensive.

People wondered if I’d have time to care for a dog and if I could alter my lifestyle to accommodate a canine that requires a lot of attention. It’s been an adjustment, for sure. But the only thing missing is sleep…not Penny’s, MINE. Ha! Our routine is atypical, but we’ve settled into it. Walks in the morning and evening and some major exercise in the afternoon keep me active, whether I feel like it or not. Penny loves to play fetch and visit new parks and take car rides and chase around in circles at breakneck speed. There isn’t a squirrel in town she hasn’t treed or a neighbor she hasn’t tried to befriend. Of course, there’s no one else outside when we take our 3am walks, and Penny’s not always sure what we’re doing out there. Last week, we literally traipsed up and down the street in the middle of the night for 25 minutes until she figured it out.

This dog gets around. In her short time in New England, she’s been to church; a kids’ birthday party; softball games; countless parks, fields and trails; and Ohio (our first road trip). She’s a great companion, and she makes me laugh constantly, even when I have to towel her off a fourth time on yet another rainy day. When we leave the house, my arms are full of her treats, water, leash, ball, and plastic bags. When we’re home, the interaction among the animals is priceless. One of these days, I’ll have my camera out to capture their nose touches or one of those times when a curious Sugar is creeping within inches of an oblivious Penny. Even when the dog realizes the cats are right next to her, she only wags her tail and tries to sniff them. Now and then, the felines will gang up on Pen, but she takes it all in stride and keeps wagging. This dog must burn half her daily calories by wagging her stump of a tail (Aussies don’t have them) and then her entire back end when she’s REALLY excited.

It’s only been 2 months, and my life now revolves around Penny’s schedule. Who knew I’d sacrifice so much sleep and who knew it would be so hard to leave her when I need to travel? I stress more about house-sitters and dog-walkers than anything I need to pack. I wouldn’t change a thing, though. Love this dog. One of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

Dreams of being a pro athlete are not limited to little boys. When I was younger, I used to imagine a life playing basketball at the professional level. Don’t ask me how I thought it would work as a female, but when you’re a kid, those details don’t get in the way of a great dream. Fast forward 15 years, knowing NOW what I didn’t know then, I wouldn’t trade places with a professional athlete for all the money Alex Rodriguez has made in his baseball career. Most pro athletes are handsomely paid to play a game, and their lives may look perfect on TV or in magazines. But the money and fame come with their own set of problems.

Easy to start plotting what we’d do with $100 million, isn’t it? Right now, I’m thinking about the mortgage and school loans I could pay off and how I could ensure my family is set for life. There are home improvements, a boat, a trip to Italy, and some charitable organizations I’d like to support. The best part would be seemingly never having to worry about money again. But that’s a smoke-screen. Money doesn’t fix everything; in fact, being rich includes a unique set of challenges. Money is a huge temptation for many, and this world is full of free-loaders and people who think family or friend ties guarantee them a cut. Generous athletes with big hearts, especially those from meager backgrounds, often shell out millions to take care of everyone around them. Or the dollars burn a hole in their pockets, and they go crazy spending like there’s no tomorrow. Incredible how many athletes who earn millions end up broke because of poor choices, poor management, and poor relationships. It’s hard enough to know who to trust in this world, but the rich are a magnet for the greedy and those with less-than-noble intentions.

My friends like to tease me and call me “famous.” Of course, I’m not. It’s only a very small percentage of the people who listen to sports radio that recognize my name. While my Facebook and Twitter bases are growing, they’re nothing like the 2.2 million fans who follow Paul Pierce. I can’t even fathom that kind of notoriety or the lack of privacy that comes with it. I take great pains to protect my privacy by keeping my family anonymous and by hiding as much personal information as possible. I’m also extremely careful with my posts on social media, knowing that once I publish, my words can never be permanently deleted. Again, I’m NOT famous like the pro athletes who have to stay on guard all the time. Everything they say, tweet or post, everywhere they go, everything they do, every mistake they make ends up a matter of public record. They live most of their lives in a fish bowl. Very little remains sacred in today’s culture of smart phones equipped with camera, video, and instant internet access. Google, YouTube, and the 24-hour news cycle make it impossible to fly under the radar as a star athlete.

After hearing about the shocking death of former NFL linebacker Junior Seau this week, I spent time thinking about the pressure on pro athletes. A man known for his wide smile, boundless energy, passion for football, commitment to community, and a successful foundation shot himself to death. The pressure to cultivate, promote, and maintain a reputation with mass appeal must be overwhelming. Pro athletes are deemed heroes to be worshipped and obsessed over. They’re not supposed to have flaws or weaknesses. Maybe that’s why Junior Seau didn’t reach out for help, why he didn’t even tell his family or closest friends that he was struggling. The pressure to perform doesn’t end when a pro athlete retires.

Maybe the adrenaline rush of nailing the game-winning shot or tossing the touchdown pass to win the Super Bowl is unmatched by anything in my life; but I’ll happily take my townhouse in the woods, tiny bank account, and relative anonymity.

I love birthdays! I love making a big deal over people on their birthdays. They deserve to be celebrated. I think they beg for recognition, but I know not everyone shares my exuberance, especially as the years pile up. When I was working in Providence, Rhode Island, I received an email calling me “selfish” and “arrogant” and “childish” for mentioning my birthday on the radio. Actually, it doesn’t matter to me if anyone outside my family remembers my birthday; I will still celebrate every April 7th. I even pamper myself with a few gifts (in 2012, a dog and a plane ticket). Surviving another year on this planet is nothing short of a miracle.

When we’re kids, birthdays equal attention, parties, cake, and presents. While I still enjoy all of those things (especially cake), they’re no longer necessary for a proper celebration. On my birthday last weekend, I saw no one except a few colleagues at work and the woman who handed me my special take-out dinner. Ha! It was a quiet birthday, probably the most low-key birthday I’ve ever had. Phone calls, text messages, Facebook & twitter greetings galore, but no fanfare; and I wouldn’t change a thing. This birthday was special in other ways: a symbolic slam of a door behind me and a giant step toward the future.

For many reasons I don’t care to revisit, 2011 was the most challeging and difficult year of my adult life. Personally, professionally, emotionally, and spiritually; no part of my world was untouched or unquestioned. My birthday was an opportunity to pause, turn around, and appreciate how far I’ve come in the first few months of 2012. It’s the last time I’ll ever look back; that part of my life is now dead and gone. I’m thankful for the valuable lessons learned; but honestly, I’m more thankful to have last year in my rearview mirror. That’s worth celebrating!

Life is hard. Sometimes I wonder how we survive and advance. It can feel like navigating a minefield. Natural disasters, health crises, death of loved ones, mounting financial pressures, job stresses, family conflicts, personal failures – we all go through them. To face those challenges head-on and emerge with your blood pressure stable and sanity intact is no small feat. To cling to hope in the face of despair and believe despite all odds requires supreme effort. But to know God lends His strength and company in the midst of darkness is invaluable. And to finally reach the bright light at the end of the tunnel is priceless. That’s worth celebrating!

To get wiser as we get older is both a blessing and a curse. When friends joke about how “old” I am, I immediately point out I wouldn’t go back to my 20s for all the money in the world. Boy, was I stupid! Ha! I caused myself (and others) a lot of extra stress and heartache with my poor decisions. Understanding the magnitude of those choices and living with regret is the curse that comes with age. But there’s greater blessing in the knowledge I never have to repeat those mistakes — in the knowledge that every new day and every new year is a chance to get it right. That’s also worth celebrating!

Despite marking my birthday with very little pomp and circumstance, I couldn’t ask for more than the peace in my heart, excitement and anticipation for the future, and another year to develop into the woman God’s called me to be. Happy Birthday indeed!

One of these days, I will be a mom. It’s definitely something I look forward to in the future. In the meantime, I enjoy spending time with my nieces, baby-sitting my friends’ children, and teaching junior high school girls at my church. I also love being a pet-owner. Until last week, it was a pair of cats. But then I introduced a dog into the mix; and over the last 7 days, I’ve decided that everyone who wants to have kids should be required to own a dog first.

I’m compiling a list of valuable lessons, courtesy of my dog, Penny, that I will take forward into parenthood.

• Dogs/babies get up early. So do you. This might be the biggest adjustment for me as a long-time night owl. Since the dog sleeps while I’m at work, she’s ready to go when I get home. My bedtime is pushed back until all her needs are addressed.
• When you DO finally get in bed, sleep comes in short bursts; it’s more like napping. One ear is constantly trained to capture movement or restlessness in case you’re needed again. If you weren’t a light sleeper before, you are now.
• The needs of your dog/baby ALWAYS come before your own. In fact, they rank ahead of your morning coffee. Ha! Food, water, and bathroom breaks all trump whatever you have on your list.
• There’s no such thing as a quick escape from your house. It’s not just you anymore. Now it’s you plus a constant companion. If you’re the type who tends to run on the late side like me, multiply it times SIX!
• Time is of the essence, and so is your time management. Thankfully, the more I have on my plate, the more disciplined I am. My new family addition requires that I budget my time wisely, but so far, that’s nothing but positive.
• You have more stamina than your dog/baby. While they may exude more energy in a half hour than you have all day, they wear out a lot faster than you do. What gets me up the crack of dawn and outside to walk Penny multiple times per day is the knowledge that she will collapse next to the chair after dinner. Wooo!
• If you leave it on the floor or within reach, it will end up in their mouths. Enough said.
• Dogs/babies know only what you teach them. They’re a clean slate, but they learn exponentially. And they respond to your tone of voice much quicker than they understand your words.
• Everything gets dirty quicker: your clothes, the floor, the kitchen, YOU. Dogs/babies are messy. Might as well get used to it. You can still be a clean freak, but it won’t be nearly as easy. Ha!

In barely more than a week of dog ownership, it feels as though I’ve attended a semester’s worth of parenting classes. My priorites have changed out of necessity; but so far, it’s more than worth it. More smiles, more laughter, more work, but more rewards. I didn’t know it was possible, but more than ever, I look forward to being a mom … to my dog, two cats, and a human.

It’s been 24 hours since the news broke … Peyton is choosing Denver! Peyton Manning will play for the Broncos next year, instead of suiting up for the NFC West champion Niners or staying close to home with the Titans. WHAT?? My reaction then and now remains the same. It may not be completely real to me until I see him step on the field in his #18 Broncos jersey this fall. But digging deeper, there are two sides to every story; and after time to process, my reaction also has two faces, two variations, and I’m still waffling back and forth between the two.

The Peyton face: Not kidding when I tell you this, the phrase “He’s PEYTON MANNING!” (with emphasis) has come out of my mouth at least two dozen times since I heard. Fellow football fans keep asking me what I think, and that’s my initial reply. Why? His name conjures up all the images, statistics, and track record you need to understand what he can mean to an NFL franchise. In Peyton’s 13 healthy seasons, the Colts reached the playoffs 11 times and the Super Bowl twice. They were perennial contenders, even when they didn’t have elite personnel around Peyton. The Colts won the 2007 Super Bowl and built a new stadium on Manning’s back. His cerebral approach and infamous work ethic only enhance his deadly accuracy. His signature style of calling and changing plays at the line of scrimmage forces defenses to scrap their game plans. Four MVP awards and a continual assault on the passing record books make him a first-ballot Hall of Famer when he retires. And Peyton raises the level of play around him because he demands the same excellence of his teammates. He’s a winner!

During the pursuit of Peyton Manning, two questions lingered. Is he healthy after multiple neck surgeries, and is he too far past his prime? As part of the recruiting process, Peyton went through an extensive physical from doctors hired by the Broncos, and he passed with flying colors. He also threw the football for a Broncos contingent that included John Elway. Who better to evaluate Manning’s status than a Hall of Fame quarterback who blazed the trail in Denver? Elway also won his Super Bowl rings at age 37 and 38, which is older than Manning even after he celebrates his birthday this week. Questions answered.

The Tebow face: Let me be clear about Tim Tebow. Even if he wasn’t a Denver Bronco, I would still be cheering for him to succeed. After watching him run my favorite team for the better part of a season, I’m sold on everything he brings to the table. Competitive fire, mental and physical strength and toughness, amazing leadership, the ability to inspire greatness, and a never-say-die attitude. Whether or not you like his unconventional style and unique skill set, you can’t ignore the 6-game win streak, AFC West title, and playoff win by the Broncos after Tebow won the starting job. Despite constant volatile criticism, you never saw him get defensive or fire back. His grace, humility, and unwavering commitment to his teammates are just part of the reason Tebow-mania consumed the NFL last season. His jersey sales were second only to Aaron Rogers in 2011. Millions of football fans can’t be wrong about his charisma, character, and impact on the field. Just like Peyton, he’s a winner!

Tebow’s entering his 3rd season in the NFL. It’s way too early to give up on him. I wish the Broncos would keep him in the fold. I don’t want to see him playing anywhere else but Denver. I already know it will sting to see him in a different uniform. Down the road, we may look back and recognize him as a once-in-a-lifetime player. But Peyton’s already there. It’s likely only two teams will ever get to claim him, and I’m proud to say Denver is one of them. The Colts’ loss is the Broncos’ gain. There are only a few quarterbacks that I would choose over Tebow, and Peyton’s one of them. I never thought I’d get to make this choice but he’s PEYTON MANNING!!!

I still remember crying when the Boston Celtics traded one of my favorite players Danny Ainge to the Sacramento Kings in 1989. He was part of the core five that won a pair of championships together. Larry Bird, Robert Parish, Kevin McHale, Dennis Johnson, and Danny Ainge. I lived to watch their games, even owned a poster which featured all five (still have it), so when Ainge was traded, I was heartbroken. There was absolutely no way to convince a young girl that dealing Ainge for a center named Joe Kleine could make the team better. I felt betrayed, and I knew my Celtics would never be the same.

Not sure that irrational fanatacism ever goes away completely. We eventually understand the sports industry is driven primarily by money. But no matter how old we get, a chasm will always exist between head and heart when it comes to our sports heroes. It still hurts when our favorite athletes move onto another chapter in their careers.

Peyton Manning IS the Indianapolis Colts: the most famous player in franchise history. Their number one draft pick in 1998, he led them to 11 playoff appearances and a pair of Super Bowls; helped them win a ring while racking up four MVP awards; and became the face of the franchise as well as an ambassador for the NFL. He’s a future Hall of Famer with an Indy children’s hospital bearing his name. Peyton IS the Colts … or rather, he WAS until this week when the team cut him loose instead of paying his $28 million dollar bonus. Granted, he missed last season after multiple neck surgeries and may not be the same player when he returns; but after a few tears, the marriage ended with no backward glance. Loyalty flies out the window in the face of business.

If there’s any consolation, Colts fans, you can be sure plenty of other people feel your pain. Not that long ago, it was Packers’ fans mourning the departure of Brett Favre, and to make matters worse, he eventually landed with their chief rival. The Niners bid farewell to not one, but TWO Hall of Fame quarterbacks in Joe Montana and Steve Young, and then they let Jerry Rice finish his career somewhere else. Johnny Unitas was shipped from the Baltimore Colts to the Chargers to play out the string. And these painful sports divorces aren’t limited to football. Lebron James stunned the Cleveland faithful by announcing his unceremonius departure on national TV. “The Great One” Wayne Gretzky won four Stanley Cup titles in five years with the Oilers, only to ask for a trade to the Kings. Albert Pujols earned a pair of World Series rings with the Cardinals but didn’t like their contract offer this winter and took the money and a fresh start with the Angels. Johnny Damon stabbed the Red Sox crazies in the heart when he donned pinstripes with the rival Yankees.

Whether it’s the decision of the player or the team, it never gets easier to see our favorite athletes wearing different uniforms, throwing touchdowns, hitting home runs, or wooing fans in a new city. When you’re a kid, you have no idea why your hero deserted you or how you’ll survive. When you’re an adult, you realize sports is NOT just a game; instead, nearly every decision comes down to the bottom line. When you’re an adult, you’re expected to be rational. You can’t cry and throw a fit and refuse to come out of your room when your favorite player is traded. But admit it — that’s what we all WANT to do now and then, right, even if the tantrum only lasts a moment? So go ahead, Colts fans, we totally understand.