Wait...it's not even close to the sappy Christmas season!

Once in a blue moon, you see a story that makes you believe we're going to be just fine...

Here's a breaking news flash, it seems everything coming from the media these days is all gloom and doom. I'm not sure what it is about our society, our very cultural, that leads us to thirst for the negative. Don't even act like you are shocked and appalled by that characterization either.

I consider myself a very optimistic person...and even I'm guilty of the very thing!

Several years ago, I started filtering the sources of my information intake. Even that's very dangerous. Historically, I've been a proponent of the print media, but that has changed. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Tony C and I collectively decided to stop buying the local newspaper during the scrubbing of media sources process. Just too much negative, inaccurate garbage. The once honored and necessary art of investigative reporting has been dead and buried for several decades.

So why am I so upbeat today? Well, despite my media diet, I don't live in a bubble and still maintain tabs on the world we live. Last week out of New York came a story that was a shining beacon of wholesomeness in the dark pit of greed and corruption that seems to dominate many of today's headlines. Derek Jeter joined an elite club in baseball with his 3000th career hit. Only 27 other Major League ballplayers can claim that feat in the sport's long and storied history. Like a script right out of movie, the hit was also a home run...and so the mad scramble ensued for a piece of history in the left field bleachers of Yankee stadium.

Baseball memorabilia is big business. Jeter's historic ball projected to pay big. Maybe as high as $250K. Life-long Yankee fan Christian Lopez was the one standing with ball in hand when the scrum was over. He had in essence won the lottery. The big payola we all dream about.

The media was quick to arrive and question Lopez. What are you going to do with the ball now? Lopez was in the midst of his 15-minutes of Warhol fame. I'm sure the words that came out of his mouth next vastly deflated the frenzied media sharks because Lopez announced he was giving the ball back to Derek Jeter. He reasoned Jeter had worked a career for the milestone, and he had done nothing more than been there to witness. Lopez only requested, not demanded, that he be allowed to hand the ball back to the man who had hit the historic homer.

Gasp...

That's not a story! Where's the greed, the barter, lawsuits, the ruined life, or at least some profanity!!

I wouldn't be completely honest if I didn't admit even I waited for more. But that's how the story ends...well...almost. The Yankee faithful cheered and saluted Lopez in the 8th inning when he announced he was giving the ball back to Jeter on the stadium video board. Lopez was an instant hero in the eyes of many worldwide (with the major exception being the greater-Boston area where any Yankee news is bad news). But the Yankees didn't let the moment go unheralded, and Lopez was showered with a number of gifts from the club including primo-luxury seats for the rest of the season.

I like to believe...want to believe...that Christian Lopez is the epitome of most human beings, and the overload of dirty laundry we're saturated with daily are stories about the vast minority of our kind. Sure. We're all capable of less-than-honorable actions, but when the chips are down, when the spotlight is on a person's true character for often but a fleeting moment...I like to think most people would shine bright like Christian Lopez and take the honorable path. We too would just give the ball back with no thought of personal reward.

After all, that's the path that pays far more importantly over the haul of eternity.

If Barry Bonds had just been wearing his Giants uniform during the trial...

Somebody please cry me a river...

My view on political correctness is well documented on Tony C Today (see here, here, here, definitely here, here, here, here and oh yes, here). I think you get the point. While some of those post are worded with an elegance most assuredly plagiarized from a more astute intellect along the lines of...say...Mitch Albom, others are straight in your face from the gut of yours truly. 

(Okay for the record, that last line was hyperbole...I never, ever plagiarize. Borrow from time to time from David Johndrow maybe but never plagiarize.)

Political correctness, or the fear thereof,  has paralyzed our politicians, stifled our academia, and rained paranoia on our pulpits. Freedom of speech in our country is being held hostage by the tender feelings of a gender-confused, minority-born man named April who may or may not believe in a Supreme Being but is completely convinced his dog named Oprah communicates the plans of an imminent alien invasion with him telepathically...but only on Tuesday.

I'm sick of it. Just plain sick of it.

Yes just a few short weeks ago, someone was offended by my playful jab at both my own culture and a certain demographic of people not necessarily from the South..not that there's anything wrong with being from the North. God loves yanke...people from the North too. I understand He's a really, really big God. Please understand blasting me as a hypocrite on your Facebook page only helps increase my blog traffic...and I thank you. I'm not, however, going to be handcuffed and walk on eggshells for the sake of global self-esteem. I have opinions. I'm going to state them. Change the channel if you don't like it. There. Now I feel I've disclaimed enough to say what I came here to say today...

I hate the San Francisco Giants!

Wow. How liberating. So when I settled in this past Monday night to watch my beloved Dodgers begin  taking the second season series from the evil Giants, I was both confused and stunned to witness the two teams gathered at the pitcher's mound holding hands and singing Kumbaya. What gives?!

Truly, I mean no disrespect to Bryan Stow, the Giants fan severely beaten in the parking lot of Dodger Stadium by a couple of common criminals, but this incident was a result of crime...not real hostilities between true fans of the Dodgers and Giants.

When I say I hate the Giants, that's not an actual indictment of malice for any individual player, coach or fan of the team. Cheering against a rival team is as much a part of being a sports fan as cheering for your own team. Not to mention in this age of free agency, someone might be the player beating you with the long-ball one season and batting clean-up for your team the next. Hating the Giants is just not a pointed, personal animosity...it's just not!

I detest what happened to Bryan Stow and hope they find the thugs and prosecute them to the fullest extent of the law. Having said that...let's please not overreact and start broad-stroke paint brushing white wash on the matter. Sports need rivalry, even resentment, to be what we've come to know and love. What we don't need is a kinder, more gentle MLB.  Going to AT&T Park to hear Giant fans yell and hold up signs that say Be Well LA is preposterous and, quite frankly, very disturbing to me. Nothing gets my adrenaline pumping like the roar of Beat LA chanting, while Andre Either drills one into McCovey Cove to put the Boys in Blue up by two in the top of the ninth. That's why we watch. That's why we buy ridiculously priced tickets, sodas and hot dogs. It's not for the Matt Kemp bobblehead doll...trust me.

Giant fans hate the Dodgers too. It's one of sport's greatest rivalries moving from the uptight East coast to the tranquilized West. In over 128 years of baseball between the two teams, the series stands at 1089-1074-12...in favor of the stinking Giants for now. Both teams have won 18 pennants and 6 World Series each.  Dodgers vs Giants is all that's great about the game of baseball.

So it's okay if we get back to a few of these each season and completely away from the pre-game hand holding...regardless of the circumstances. Fighting from time to time belongs in the game. Because most major league players make the game look effortless, fights reassure fans that players do have a competitive fire burning and the $80 ticket, $15 to park and $28 in ballpark food is well worth the price of admission...if you're lucking enough to be there when a fight breaks out.

Besides. It's not like any players ever really get hurt during fights...come on...they're baseball players!  

To make a donation to a fund set up for a recovering Bryan Stow just click here. Get well and God bless brother!

Please stop the bus here...I want off now.

Okay...I'm going to vent a little today.

Just a few post ago, I wrote about my teenager and her love of soccer. She started high school today but has been practicing with the varsity soccer team all summer. According to all indications, she stands a pretty good chance of making not just the team...but the starting 11 on varsity.

So why would I be upset about that? I'm actually quite proud of her because I know she has worked very hard. Last week, however, she left a two-a-day practice about an hour early to attend youth worship services at church. Word has it...that wasn't very well received by coaches.

Now here comes a public confession. During discussions about leaving the practice, I actually tried to talk her into staying and missing a single night of church. She wouldn't hear of it, so I picked her up, and she changed clothes on our way to church. I know the pressures and commitment required to play and excel in high school sports, but I momentarily lost my focus on the bigger picture. I'm very ashamed of that fact and will back her decision to put God first in all matters from this point forward.

Paul tells us in Romans 12:1-2 to not be conformed to this world. Ironically, that was the exact message from my pastor last night at services as he stomped all over my toes. Like me, he's a big sports fan and former athlete too. However, sports were not the priority in his home growing up, and he has conveyed that in a number of messages. Despite my mother's greatest efforts and example, I can't say the same about my home while I was growing up. Now, I'm not going off on some tangent and blame that fact on the path my life would later take because that would be complete hogwash. I personally know a number of people where God was no where to be found in their household growing up, and each has lead a very spirited walk with God since coming to salvation. My choices in life have been just that...my choices.

I told my Sunday School class just yesterday that we don't understand persecution as Christians in this country. Sure, there are subtle forms of persecution, and I pray my daughter is not about to go through one of those. Let me get back to not conforming to the world though. Sports are king in our country. We idolize and try to mimic our favorite professional athletes and teams by clearing our calendars to watch them on television, paying outrageous prices to attend sporting events, and by buying the products they endorse. I've admitted I'm as big a sports fan as you'll find, and unfortunately, I've become a conformist.

Do we have to forgo sports to properly serve God? I don't think so. But when sports at any level from Pee Wee baseball to Super Bowl Sunday supersedes or interferes with drawing closer to God or being obedient to His will, we find ourselves on a slippery slope that may start with just a warped sense of priority but lead to growing ever farther away from Him. Count me out!

Tonight, Mrs. Tony C and I are going to have a talk with the teenager about letting go and letting God take over her situation. I have a few good examples of famous athletes that philosophy seemed to work out for in the short and long run. Pretty sure this guy will be in the conversation...

Please pray for my daughter and that whatever happens brings glory and honor to God.

Landon Donovan's never been on a box of Wheaties...

I really don't hate soccer...but then I also have a vested interest in the sport.

That's my teenager playing her favorite sport in the photo. She's been hard at it all week starting her day at 7-9 am conditioning drills with her new high school teammates and ending it with a 3.5 hour soccer camp around 8:30 pm.

Oh to be young again.

My daughter has been playing soccer since age 5 when the Saturday morning festivities consisted of twelve preschoolers kicking feverishly at a lone ball moving up and down the pitch in a cluster more resembling a rugby scrum than soccer. I called it 'amoeba-ball.' There were no keepers, and the goal/nets were made by Fisher-Price. We've come a long way.

Now the astute have already noted my post is starting to litter with strange, foreign-sounding words like pitch and keeper. I assure you this isn't to try to impress you with sports-specific terminology or present an air of sophistication often associated with the sport known by our Latin neighbors as futbol. I accept and acknowledge football is played on a field, basketball on a court, baseball on a diamond and soccer on a pitch. But, I came to that place kicking and screaming...if you'll pardon the pun.

The world is in a frenzy of World Cup madness today. The tournament started with 32 teams and is now down to 16. What? You're not keeping up with it? Well, you're not alone. The United States has never really embraced the sport of soccer. There was a time when soccer was the game of rich kids because it was just so much safer and less malodorous than polo. While the rest of the world's poor children used the game to briefly escape the miseries each day brought, we thumbed our noses at soccer in preference to the domestic sports of football, baseball and basketball.

That's right...the 'holy trinity' of recreational and professional sports in our country. All three games were created here, and we love to wallow in the fact each is American as Ford, Apple (i not pie) and tobacco. Sorry hockey fans. You too are on the outside looking in evidenced by trying to pronounce the names of any current NHL roster. It's just who we are in this country. If we didn't invent it...how good could it really be?

So we watch with fake enthusiasm trying just to globally fit in with everyone else as the world celebrates the pinnacle of sporting events. The Olympics? Sorry, not even close. Over 715 million people watched the final match in the 2006 World Cup between Germany and Italy. Last years Super Bowl didn't break 100 million as a matter of comparison. Mention that fact alone in the wrong place of the US South and be prepared to rumble. Football is spelled with two o's down here and must have at least one player named Bubba (nickname, not Christian name...usually).

Yes...I know...concussion is also spelled with two o's. But that's completely different!

Well, at least it looks like the toddler is interested and apt in the All-American sport of gymnastics. Wheaties box here we come!

Greek?! Are you sure about that? But Mary Lou Retton was from West Virginia! For the love of...