SUPERCUTS: AS HIP AS I WANT TO BE

 

About eight months ago, I was preparing for an interview for a job interview. Resumes?
Check. Suit cleaned? Check. Shoe shined? Check. Prepared answers that I'm a team player,
hard worker, and enthusiastic. Check, check, and check.

I was buttoned up and going to be dressed to the nines. That was until I passed a mirror and
saw that my hair looked like Nick Nolte's in that famous mugshot. "Oh, my God,"
I said to myself.  "I can't go to the interview with this head of hair. It's all over the place."

Panic didn't set in, initially, the interview was near the end of the day so I had plenty of time.
However, after my regular stylist said she couldn't get me in, I got a little jumpy. Now, I had
to scramble to find a place to get a hair cut and most likely get it from a person I didn't know.
I figured, just as long as it didn't look like I got it cut at a pet shop, I'd be all right.

I drove down the main strip near the town I live in and noticed a Supercuts franchise pretty
quickly. I said, "Oh, what the hell. A hair cut for anybody trained is like making scrambled
eggs: pretty hard to screw up."

Unfortunately, when I arrived the place was pretty jammed up with the people waiting to
get a SuperCut. I went to the counter and asked how long it would be and a woman replied,
"Well, Marvin is going to be available next, Do you want to get a hair cut with Marvin? And
at that point, the entire place stopped dead in their tracks. Silence.

It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop, so the sound of my cell phone hitting the floor
must've sounded like an M-80. Everybody was looking at me as I looked at Marvin who was
in all his glory. He was  wearing purple from head-to-toe. Purple jeans, purple t-shirt, and a
purple Yankees hat to the side just like CC Sabathia. Marvin had a big smile on his face and
bore a striking resemblance to former NFL running back Jerome Bettis.

"Sir, do you want to get a hair cut from Marvin?," the woman repeated."

Talk about pressure. How could I say no? That would've been so embarrassing for him
to be rejected in front of those people, especially since my mouth was still wide open from
the thought of getting a hair cut from a dude dressed in all purple. He looked more like a guy
spinning DVD's as a dee jay than a hairstylist, that's for sure.

"Um, OK.", I answered hesitantly.

When I strode over to the chair, I asked Marvin, jokingly, if he had ever done this before.
He responded just as jokingly, "a few times."

Shortly, after I sat down in the chair, Marvin wrapped the bib so tightly around my neck and
with such force, I got light-headed.

"Marvin, lighten up, will you?" I told him. "I don't want you giving me CPR after I pass out."

Marvin just continued on with the big grin on his face as if he just won the lottery. He started
whacking the comb on my head of hair as if it were a head of lettuce.

"Marvin, if you keep doing it like that, I'm calling the police and having you arrested for assault,"
I told him half-kiddingly.

"Sorry," Marvin said sheepishly, but with that big grin on his face. I wasn't sure if Marvin was
a real stylist or just lost a bet with a co-worker where he had to change places with him for
a day.

I cringed, shut my eyes, and threw caution to the wind, as well as a few expletives under my
breath. I just hoped for the best when it was all over. Or just that I didn't look like Anthony
Weiner.

 

Somehow, someway, Marvin's art work came out good. Honestly, I was amazed that I didn't
just have to shave it all off and start over. It was actually the best hair cut I've gotten in
a long time, at least that's what woman between the ages of 58 and 75 tell me.

Marvin did the job. And the best part about it all was when he said, "that'll be $15.95".

$15.95! What a deal. In this day and age, that's a deal!

I keep going back to Marvin and will as long as I live around here. I go just as much for
the entertainment as the hair cut. Marvin is one funny dude. Always happy, always with
that big, cat-ate-the-canary grin on his way.

Supercuts. As hip as I want to be. Oh, I didn't get the job, but I did find a place to get
a good, cheap hair cut with a lot of entertainment.

BILL BELICHICK OWNS WES WELKER

As Bill Belichick was reading the comments made about him by Wes Welker (and make no
mistake about it, the Patriots head coach sees and hears everything said about him by former
players), I'm sure that trademark smirk washed across his face.

Belichick knows that he's gotten in the head of Welker. He knows that Welker is already in
a mind game that he cannot win. He knows that when Welker comes to Foxborough with the
Denver Broncos on November 24, Welker might try too hard, be a little too tense, and be ripe
to make a mistake at the wrong time.

Belichick still owns Welker even though he's with another team nearly 2,500 miles away.

In a cover story on Welker and the Denver Broncos in Sports Illustrated, Welker took a
few digs at his former coach, saying, “It was just kind of hard,” Welker said. “One of
those deals where you have to  endure him, put up with him . . . But he does it to everybody,
it’s the way he is.”

Let's get one thing straight: Bill Belichick is responsible for making Welker the player that
he is. Belichick saw the potential in the diminutive wide receiver and traded for him when
every other team could've had him for a song with the Miami Dolphins. Welker was an average
player with the Dolphins, a team that was clearly in disarray at the time, recording a career-
high 67 passes the year before he arrived in New England.

In his first season with the Patriots, playing in the offense designed by Belichick, not Charlie
Weiss or Josh McDaniels, Welker caught a mind-boggling 112 passes. Belichick knew how
to employ Welker in his system and create match-ups that would leave Welker wide open
most of the time.  Playing with Tom Brady, who played as big a part as Belichick in Welker's
development, he became a star. To his credit, Welker was tough, durable, and a gamer. He
averaged more than 100 catches during his six years with the Patriots. But he never would've
put up those numbers in Miami, or anywhere else, for that matter.

Belichick made Welker who he is, not the other way around. From rescuing him from the
black hole that was Miami, to utilizing him in the Patriots sophisticated offense where Brady
could zip passes to a receiver who was usually wide-open, Belichick was the genius who
made it happen.

Now, Welker says he's free to be wide open in Denver where he can be himself,
which is what many players often say when they get out of an environment where they
think they've been controlled by a dictator.We've seen it before with athletes, and we'll
see it again. They always think the grass is greener on the other side, then when they
realize it isn't. they often say, "Man, I didn't know how good I had it there."

Nobody gets better after they leave the Patriots, not Drew Bledsoe, Lawyer Milloy, Ty
Law, David Givens, Richard Seymour or even Randy Moss. Welker is bound to put up some
big numbers while playing with Peyton Manning, but he might just do it with the Hoodie
very much in his head.

“When I’m answering questions from the Denver media, I’m not worried about what the
Broncos’ people are going to think,” Welker told Sports Illustrated . “I’m worried about
what Belichick will think. Isn’t that crazy?”

Not really, Wes. That's the beauty of Belichick. He still owns you.

DREW BREES AND THE 'TIPPING' POINT

The decaying of our society began a long, long time ago, but with the advent of social media,
its taken the fast lane straight into the gutter. Facebook, Twitter, and camera phones,
have turned the world into a junior high school cafeteria on steroids---filled with gossip, jealousy,
and hate. He said this, she did that, OMG, I think I'm going to post this for the entire world
to see and comment about. Yeah, I'm SMH.

On Wednesday, someone at a restaurant in the San Diego-area where Drew Brees orders
take-out, posted a picture on the Internet of the receipt showing the quarterback of the New
Orleans Saints leaving a $3 tip on a $74 bill. By Thursday morning, the story was "trending"
everywhere. Matt Lauer talked about it on the "Today" show and ESPN pontificated about
the tip with a panel of experts. Good, grief. The stories and all the talk painted Brees as "cheap".

How sad is it that this even made the news? What does it say about our society? Trivial?
Childish? Resentful? No, forget about the sleaze ball who took a picture of the receipt and
then posted it on the Internet like a child, people want to try to take some of the shine off
a Super Bowl winning quarterback. That's what our world has become today.

Nobody is criticizing the guy who wanted the entire world to think a $100 million quarterback
stiffed the staff,  but instead, they're slamming one of the really good guys in the NFL.

Brees has done so much for the city of New Orleans with his charity and personal donations
that for this to even come up in conversation, much less for the entire world to see, is truly
ridiculous. Brees is part of the fabric of the Big Easy, not only for bringing it a championship,
but for his commitment to the city. For him to receive any criticism for something as petty
as the supposed small tip, is absolutely mind-boggling. Riley Cooper is dropping the N-word
and Aaron Hernandez is sitting in prison on a murder charge and people are criticizing Brees?
What's wrong people? What's wrong with this picture?

Most people don't leave a tip on a take-out order. Few people even know it's an option. Brees
left $3. How much was he supposed to leave? 25, 50, 100 dollars? It's really nobody's business
how much he leaves. And why should anybody judge Brees on how much he left on take-out?
Absurd.

Perhaps, the media needed a break from Anthony's Weiner and his sexting scandal. Maybe
Simon Cowell's affair with a friend's wife just wasn't juicy enough. I don't know, but in
the words of Allan Iverson, we're talking about the tip on take-out, not a sit-down fancy
meal, but take-out. Not a gathering with a lot of food, but one person picking up take-out.
For real?

BRYCE HARPER AND FAMILY HAVE STYLE

 

Bryce Harper didn't say anything during the home run derby on Monday night, but we learned
more about him than we had ever known. The 20-year old phenom of the Washington Nationals
brought his father, Ron, and brother, Bryan, to take part in the All-Star festivities and they
showed us that style is all in the family.

First of all, watching a father throw to his son on baseball's biggest stage, was pretty special. It
brought back a lot of memories for all of us who grew up with our dad's pitching batting practice
on a local field somewhere across the United States. But as the night and contest wore on, we
got to see a lot more than that. The cameras opened a window and let the world see what a
baseball family is really like. We saw the love, respect, and strangely enough, the style of the
Harper's and it was interesting, to say the least.

There was Bryce with his unique, "Rockabilly",  hairstyle. It's part Mohawk, part something
really strange. But that's Bryce, he has long walked to the beat of his own drummer, setting
fashion trends along the way. Remember the 'war paint' eye black he wore on his face in
high school that seemed so over the top to be imitated, but lo and behold, nearly every kid
around the country was wearing their eye-black just like Bryce. I'm not sure if kids are going
to be running to their local barbers to get their hair cut like Bryce, but one never knows.

I never knew Bryce had a brother until Monday night. His name is Bryan, 23, and he stood
out  last night because of one thing: his handlebar mustache. Yeah, he's gone retro--
bringing Rollie Fingers back into the game. Bryan is a left-handed pitcher in the Nationals
minor-league system and has be the only player in professional baseball with a stache' like
that. I've never seen a kid that young sporting the handlebar mustache. It's definitely unique.

The father of Bryce and Bryan has style, as well. We didn't see much of his face the whole
night because the cameras were placed behind him as he tossed cut fastballs to Bryce. But
after he and Bryce embraced for the final time, the cameras gave the television audience a
close-up which revealed a sole patch! Yep, the old man has a sole patch. Bryce has the 'rockabilly'
hair cut, Bryan has the handlebar mustache, and dad has a sole patch. How cool is that?

In this day and age of Facebook, Twitter, iPhones, and iPads, nobody seems very much
into style anymore, but it's clear the Harper family is. I used to think they were all about
baseball and not much else, but I was wrong. They are cool

AND WHY DO PEOPLE HATE TIM TEBOW AGAIN?

Our world has seemingly become a more hateful one, fueled by jealousy, envy and a social
media super highway that makes it easy to attack others without fear of repercussion. We
often despise others because of their fame, fortune, or sadly, just because of the way they
look. Some are mocked for acting too good, while others are damned for being far from it.

Tiger Woods, Lance Armstrong,, A-Rod, and Manti' Te'o didn't turn out to be the people
we thought they were and they became athletes that we love to hate. Barry Bonds, Roger
Clemens,and Bobby Valentine never made it easy for anybody to like them and since they
didn't appear to care, they were hated even more.

The sports world is filled with liars, cheaters, and even alleged murderers, yet people have
a problem with Tim Tebow. Really?

It's littered with self-absorbed ego-maniacs like T.O., Ochocinco, Dennis Rodman, and
many others who scream out, "Look at me, aren't I great?", even though nobody but their
followers on Twitter seems to really care. Mike Rice fires basketballs at his players, Joe
Paterno looks the other way, and Ryan Braun has a new excuse for the PED cloud hovering,
just about every other day.

And people want to criticize Tim Tebow? Seriously?

I don't get it. The sports world has turned into one giant cess pool and people want to
hate on the one guy who appears to be squeaky clean? Tim Tebow doesn't drink, smoke,
or show up on a police blotter and yet, people love to criticize him. Tebow has been tried
and true and has never wavered from his faith and people continue to bash him. At a time
when this country is yearning for role models who live their life the right way, haters want
to hate on Tebow? Incredible.

People seem to be offended because he's open about his faith, pointing to the sky or taking
a knee to pray to the Lord, but when Albert Pujols points to the sky and says that God told
him to sign with the Angels, it's no big deal. Barry Bonds seemed to do it after every one
of his final 300 home runs, but nobody gave it a name like the "Tebowing" stance, did
they?

The media has tried to bait him, his former teammates on the New York Jets talked behind
his back, and many still hate him. Tebow has just turned the other cheek, choosing not to get
into the pettiness that permeates professional sports and locker rooms. He doesn't call out
a teammate or trash him via Twitter. He's just a stand-up guy who is just trying to do the
right thing and live the way his Lord and Savior, paved the way for him to do. What's
wrong with that?

Oh, sure, Tebow is not a great passing quarterback, or even a good one. You don't have to
be an expert to know he'll never throw a pass like Tom Brady, or even Brady Quinn, for
the matter. But when given the chance, he wins, going 7-4 as the starting quarterback for
the Denver Broncos.

Winning is all Tebow has ever done---in high school, college, and with the Broncos. His
year with the Jets was just a colossal waste as the team had no idea how to incorporate him
into the offense, something Bill Belichick will have no trouble doing this season in New
England.

I read an article last week where Daryl Strawberry, twice re-born and on a whole new path,
said he wished he lived his life like Tim Tebow during the early part of his career. Strawberry
went down the wrong road, filled with drugs, woman, and a whole lot of danger, producing
a lot of deep regrets.

Perhaps, people bash Tebow because they are just envious of the way he has lived his life.
Maybe, just maybe, they, like Strawberry, wished they lived their lives like Tebow. When a
man is stripped of everything else, fame, fortune, and a career, what else is there? Right, just
you and you're reputation.

People hate Tim Tebow for all the wrong reasons. There is never a good to hate, but everybody
has the right to do it. I'm just wondering why anybody would spend any time hating on a person
like Tebow, when there are so many other shady characters in the sports world to choose from.

JASON YOST: DAREDEVIL WITH A CHAINSAW

 

The morning after Nik Wallenda walked a tightrope across the Grand Canyon before a
world-wide television audience, Jason Yost performed his daredevil act in front of an audience
of three, including me. who accepted his offer of working on his crew for a couple of days.
What I  witnessed over the next eight hours left me in awe of his talent and vocation, which in layman's terms, is a tree surgeon.

On a sizzling, 90-degree morning in North Stamford, CT., Yost, who was a drummer in my
brother's band during their days at New Canaan High School, had the mission of trying to bring
down a 100-foot tree that was sandwiched between two multi-million dollar homes. With all
the extreme weather in the area over the last two years, the client was worried the tree would
fall on her neighbors home, causing major damage, and with it, a potential lawsuit.

 

Yost, who is 5 feet and a smidge, and not more than 125 pounds when soaking wet, has been
an arborist for more than 25 years. He is old school, learning the business by trial and error,
and works with equipment that has long been outdated. Think flip-phone versus iPhone.
Imagine the wooden racket of Bjorn Borg against the graphite bazooka employed by Rafeal
Nadal. There is nothing fancy about his operation like hydraulic machines his competition uses
that hoist a surgeon up to his destination in a safe and comfortable bucket.

Nope, Yost scales the tree himself  with a heavy belt strapped around his waist with enough
clips, ropes, and chains to sink a small ship. With a tree that seemed to touch the clouds, standing
not more than five yards from the neighbors yard and a meticulous garden larger than most
people's backyards in his clients, there was absolutely no margin for error. I know what you're
wondering: how the heck do you bring down a tree that size and in that spot without causing
mayhem? The answer is simple: piece by piece and branch by branch.

Yost was like spiderman and a lumberjack rolled into the one. The athleticism and precision
he showed while baking the blistering sun, was simply incredible. The job might be best
described as a controlled demolition or dismantling. Yost would rope a large 'segment' of a
tree then have a worker hoist up a chainsaw on a rope. He'd unfasten it and then slice part of
the tree, and,  because it had been roped already, Yost would control its descent so it wouldn't
go crashing into the neighbor's yard or the client garden. He'd then turn off the chainsaw and
fasten it to his belt.

This process went on for the next four hours straight. No breaks or relief. Rope, chainsaw,
release, and repeat. It may seem boring but it was truly fascinating. Like the speed of the
athletes can't truly be appreciated by watching on television, one can't fully comprehend the athleticism, focus, and dexterity of Yost until seeing him do his thing in person. As someone
who has competed in sports, covered them, and appreciates great athletes, I can say that Yost
was electric when doing his job.

He'd take a break for lunch, remove 25 pounds of  gear, then relax for a little while before
suiting back up and scaling the tree once again. It's kind of like doing a marathon, having a
break to re-group, then going out to run another one. The work of Yost was that tough and
demanding.

Yost single-handedly took down a tree that measured almost 100 feet in two, eight hour
days that were so hot, you were dripping in sweat after blinking twice. I'm not in awe of
many things these days, but I marveled at the work of Yost. It was simply incredible.

If  it had been broadcast to the world, many people would've found it a lot more compelling
and demanding than Wallenda's walk across the Grand Canyon.

HALFWAY HOME TO 98

I turned 49 today. 49 is really not a sexy number or significant milestone like 40 or
50. It's just kind of there. In sports, the number 49 is pretty boring and  never worn by
anybody spectacular. Oh, it's kind of unique in baseball because great knuckleball pitchers
like Hoyt Wilhem, Tom Candiotti, Charlie Hough, and Tim Wakefield all wore the number.

49 meant nothing to me until last week when I reported on a woman bartender who is
exactly twice my age. Yep, double up 49 and you get 98-year old Angie McClean. She works
eight hours a day, six days a week at a bar located on the mean streets of  Bridgeport, CT.

When I arrived with my photographer, there she was in all her glory. And McLean looked like
Old Glory, dressed in red, white, and blue from head-to-toe. She had more than 30 miniature
American flags dotting her perfectly coiffed hair. McLean, is a star, who, after living nearly
a century, has more than earned her stripes. As I got set to interview her, I watched her buzz
around the bar, mixing drinks and serving customers with a smile on her face, and just wondered
to myself all the things she has experienced in her life, one that begin on April 6, 1915
.

I also said to myself, "This woman is living life. Retirement is a four-letter word to her. She
is 98-years old, working six days a week and has a smile on her face. I love this person."

As McClean settled in behind the bar for her interview, she seemed ready for my first question,
as if she knew it was coming.

"Why are you still bartending at 98-years old?", I asked.

"Because I'm not the type of person to sit around and watch TV. That's not for me," she
responded.

Great answer and one that left me saying, "Wow", to myself. I'm just praying I'm still
above ground and playing shuffleboard with my friends at 98, and this woman is loving
life as a bartender, slinging drinks six days a week. Take time to think about that for a second.......
incredible.

McLean lives by herself and is picked up by her bosses who take her to work and drive her
home after work every night. She dresses up for every holiday. On July 4th, McLean is an
American flag. On Christmas, she morphs into a Christmas tree with all the ornaments.

"Do you ever get tired from working six days a week," I asked her.

"Of course not. You have to keep moving. Life waits for no one. If you stop, it passes
you by," she said matter-of-factly.

Amazing. Perhaps, I was really talking to the sister of Norman Vincent Peale or the
grandmother of Anthony Robbins. She was so positive, so full of life and her energy
was rubbing off on me. I knew I was in the presence of someone truly special. No, she
wasn't a great athlete, movie star, or politician. Angie McLean is just a normal person
who has lived an extraordinary life exactly how she wants to live it.

Less than a week before my 49th birthday, McLean gave me a special gift without even
knowing it. She inspired, motivated, and educated me. Today, I am 49-years old, exactly
half the age of McLean. There is so much of life left to live, so much left to accomplish.

If I become a bartender for the rest of my life that won't be a bad thing, just as long as I
do it with a smile on my face like McLean has on hers every single day. Thank you
for the gift, Angie McLean.