Always a Champion: Josh Hancock

The Hancock family of Tupelo, MS lost a good man this past weekend. So did the world of baseball. Josh Hancock was a champion on and off the field.

The relationship between a professional athlete and his fans can be difficult to completely define. Much like other relationships, the tone and the intensity can vary from day to day. Becoming an avid supporter of a professional athlete usually starts with an appreciation for his style of play or his passion for the game. Your support blossoms when you see inklings of what might be strong character, kindness, humility, all the things from which good people are made. And at its peak, a certain level of admiration develops and you officially become a "fan."

That's what holds true for me anyway. I am a baseball fan and a St. Louis Cardinals season ticket holder. And much to the enjoyment of the fans around me in section 505 at Busch Stadium, I was a fan of Josh Hancock. Really, in section 505, everyone was.

Josh Hancock may have never taken Major League baseball by storm or lit up the record books. In his short pitching career, Hancock appeared in only 102 games. Yet in that time, he garnered the admiration of many. Hancock was a team player, taking the ball whenever it was handed to him, in good or bad situations, and according to the Cardinal staff, never questioning why. He did what was best for the team. From my seat, I witnessed some of the interaction with the fans and watched as he brought joy to many a child leaning over the railing of the bullpen between innings, hoping to get a ball. At charity events or social functions, Hancock represented his team well. He was respectful and courteous and always offered, at the very least, a smile.

Josh Hancock's work ethic on the field made it easy to become a fan. And his attitude and presence off the field made me proud to be a fan. As news of his passing spread across the country, the people closest to Josh Hancock began stepping forward with stories of confirmation that he was, indeed, worthy of admiration.

To me, and to all of his fans, Josh Hancock will always be a champion. We will cry for a while but we will never forget the contribution he made to baseball, to Cardinal nation and to the world around him.

The Art of the Ass-Smack

The art of the ass-smack has been perfected by the male species. No longer is it a gesture limited to the playing field. It may, quite possibly, be an acceptable greeting, replacing the pat on the back or the handshake.

Back in the day, it was accompanied by phrases such as "nice catch," great play," and "way to go." Those phrases are often still used but they are accompanying the ass-smack at various social gatherings and family events as well as its place of origin, the sporting event.

"Nice shirt!" (smack) "Hey... hot new girlfriend!" (smack) "Way to bag those groceries!" (smack)
While I have yet to witness its implementation in corporate America, it is conceivable that the ass-smack might work well in meetings, at conferences and following your annual performance evaluation.

"Great year, kid!" (Followed by the follow through ass-smack as you walk out the door.)

Guys grow up honing their ass-smacking skills through little league and pee wee football. It's a concept foreign to women, much like the numerous adjustments men make when wearing the protective cup. (I wear two cups every day and I am not constantly shifting things around.) That explains, my male friends, why grabbing a woman's back side or slapping her as she passes evokes a yell or gasp from her lips. We aren't used to that.

I have to believe this smacking is not a free for all and I am going to take a shot at what I think the rules should be. First of all, you should know the guy. No stranger smacking. That's just filthy. And secondly, standard man rules apply so places where it might be inappropriate to strike up a conversation (i.e. the urinal) are smack-free zones.

Correct me if I am wrong guys. You ARE the experts here. Shoot... if we were in the same room right now, I'd extend a hand and give you a pat myself.

Hockey Pants

As hockey season winds down (& comes to a close for my beloved St. Louis Blues), I reflect on one of the most important aspects of the game. The uniform.

Having never played one minute of hockey in my life, I lack an appreciation for the uniform and the gear. I am sure, however, that each protective item that makes up that gear serves its purpose, gets the job done.

But let's talk about those God-awful pants for a moment. They aren't really pants at all, are they? They are shorts. Shorts with really tall socks. Why not just wear pants? Pants may be more difficult to skate in, I suppose, but it would stand to reason that the more coverage there is, the more protection there is. And let's not neglect the fact that hockey pants are the only pants in men's professional sports that aren't... true to a man's form. What's a girl to look at on a slow night? Between those pants and the bike helmets they wear, it's really tough to pick a favorite player.

I do love that they call the shirt a "sweater" though. That just tickles me. It's better than jersey or... shirt for that matter. And, it almost makes up for the pants.