My Discussion Regarding the Milwaukee Bucks and Their Series Loss to the Indiana Pacers

Folks, I have neglected my blog lately. I am sorry about that. I’ve been running out of hours in the day, and writing, whether it’s blogging or some fiction or whatever else, is taking a big backseat to Life (TM) these days. But as I am a fan of the Milwaukee Bucks, and as they were in the playoffs, I made sure to either listen or watch every single game this past week. (Considering I try to listen or watch every game during the regular season as well, that’s not too surprising.) And I have some thoughts.

Here we go.

I was fortunate enough to watch the Bucks play the Pacers in their last two playoff games (I listened to the others). I was seriously impressed by how hard the Bucks played despite their overall series loss to the Pacers (more on this in a bit). They were brilliant in Milwaukee in Game Five, which they needed to be in order to force Game Six in Indiana. One of their two big stars, Damian Lillard, played in Game Six after having to sit out the two previous playoff games, and did rather well, especially considering he was dealing with a strained Achilles tendon. He led all scorers, in fact…but despite good defense from nearly every Bucks player (including Lillard, and his forte is definitely not defense), the Bucks ran out of gas. They lost, 120-98, and the Pacers now advance to the next round.

Mind you, the game was not quite as lopsided as the score says. The Bucks coach, Doc Rivers, took most of his players — the starters, the main bench people, etc. — out of the game starting at around the four-minute mark. I believe the Bucks were down by sixteen at that point, and while that’s potentially doable if someone like Lillard hit a bunch of three-point shots and the extremely tired and gassed defense was able to get four or five stops in a row, it would’ve been a very long shot. I think Rivers did the right thing in pulling out guys like Lillard, Bobby Portis, Khris Middleton (who had a brilliant series of his own, especially in Games Four and Five), Patrick Beverley (aka “PatBev”), and Brook Lopez. Those guys should all hold their heads up, as they did the best they could all the way around.

Why do I say this? Because the biggest star on the Bucks, Giannis Antetokounmpo, was not able to play at all. He averaged something like forty points a game against Indiana, even though the Bucks as a whole had not done all that well against them. So, if you count him, and you see all these other players doing what they just did in stepping their games way up (or in Middleton’s case, reminding everyone why he was an All-Star a few years ago), I think at minimum the Bucks would’ve forced Game Seven in Milwaukee. At maximum, they would’ve won.

One stat for Game Five tells pretty much the whole story. There had never before been a playoff team, without its top two scorers (in the Bucks case, those were Lillard and Giannis), that had actually won a playoff game before. But the 2023-4 Bucks did just that. Middleton and Bobby Portis (a Sixth Man of the Year candidate; he finished third for the second year in a row) both scored twenty-nine points, and had twelve and ten rebounds, respectively. In addition, PatBev played the point position and passed the ball around — something he usually is not called upon to do — and scored thirteen points with twelve assists. Center Brook Lopez also scored twelve points. The Bucks played outstanding defense, held the Pacers to just 92 points in Game Five, and beat them 115-92.

In other words, without Giannis and Lillard, they were more like the “little team that could” (except for how tall they are, of course). They believed in themselves, and it showed. It was good that they got one more win at home and got to hear the love from the Milwaukee fans, because they really did pour it all out onto the floor.

So, the Bucks should hold their heads high despite losing the series to the Pacers. They did their best. Lillard came back in Game Six, and, while obviously not healthy, scored twenty-eight points and played far better defense than I’d expected. Portis had twenty points and fifteen rebounds. (The Indiana crowd hates Portis, so this was I hope some small amount of solace for Portis going into the offseason.) Lopez played one of his best games of the year, scoring twenty points and pulling down five rebounds. PatBev, while obviously tired and injured — he’d been playing despite an oblique injury for the past several weeks — again pulled down five assists and scored six points. (Remember, he’s not usually called upon to do either one. He was used primarily as a defensive “energy” guy, which makes sense: Beverley has been a member of the NBA All-Defensive Team three separate times.)

I was — am — happy with my favorite team. I wanted them to win Game Six just as much as they did…well, maybe not quite as much, but certainly I wanted them to win.

They didn’t win, no. But they did their level best. I can’t get angry with any of them.

For other sad Bucks fans out there: You need to remember that in any playoff scenario, a good team is going to go home in round one. Maybe several good teams will go home in round one. It doesn’t matter if it’s the NCAA Basketball Tourney, or the major league baseball playoffs, or the wildcard games in football…a good team or two always ends up going home sooner than expected. Oftentimes, it’s because key players were injured and/or were not able to play up to full capacity.

And we both know who wasn’t able to play at all, while several others couldn’t play up to their full capacity (but did their best and came darned close to it).

What I saw from my favorite team, the Bucks, was perseverance, grit, teamwork, and a never-say-die attitude. I hope most of the players will be back next year (I think it’s a lock that Lillard and Giannis aren’t going anywhere, and I’d be stunned if Middleton went anywhere either), as I think if folks like PatBev (a midseason acquisition) had played with everyone all year long, it’s possible this team would’ve forced Game Seven even without Giannis (a former two-time MVP of the NBA, a past multiple winner of the all-defensive team, and, like Lillard, a member of the all-NBA 75th anniversary team).

What I will take away from this loss is this: You can hold head up high when you do your level best. You may not win all the time. You may not be able to meet your own goals (PatBev said right away he wanted to win the NBA Championship just as soon as the Bucks traded for him; he also had some negative history with Damian Lillard, and said he had to “get right with Dame”). But you will still impress people if you give it your best shot, and most especially if you go outside of your comfort zone and do things completely unexpected of you. (That would hold true for the vast majority of the 2023-4 Milwaukee Bucks.)

Watching Sports (Without My Father)

Folks, as most of you know if you’ve been reading this blog for a while, my father died last October at the age of 86. He was a huge sports fan, as am I, and I’ve been reflecting on how different it is to watch, listen, and read about sports without being able to talk with him about it.

Now, you might be wondering why this, in particular, is what I’m ruminating about. There are many things that people miss when someone they care about dies. But for my father and I, who were so different in many ways, talking about sports was our common denominator. We could discuss the various things like Brewers trades (he’d have not been happy about Corbin Burnes being traded to Baltimore recently, that’s for sure, no matter how good the two players are that we got for Burnes), Milwaukee Bucks basketball (Dad remembered watching the Minneapolis Lakers — yes, the LA Lakers were once in Minneapolis, folks — when George Mikan was playing, and after that he never stopped being a fan of pro basketball), the Green Bay Packers successes and failures over the years, and more.

See, Dad was up on current events, yes. But mostly he saw politicians failing to do their jobs. Or not representing the people they claimed to represent with any sort of humility, honesty, or integrity. Or just being huge buttheads for whatever reasons of their own…and none of that impressed him.

(Nor does it impress me. But I digress.)

And while professional sports has many things that are frustrating — the officiating, the huge salaries, the various strategies teams use when they want to move a team (such as the Oakland Raiders moving to Las Vegas a few years ago, and the Oakland A’s wish to leave Oakland now for Las Vegas as well) — there are more hopeful stories there to watch, listen to, and ponder.

For example, in Milwaukee, Dad and I got to watch as Giannis Antetokounmpo was drafted as an all-but-unknown 18-year-old. He was raw, but very talented; we didn’t know it at the time, but he also was one of the bigger human success stories of the past thirty or forty years (at least when it comes to sports). Giannis grew up in poverty, and his family were undocumented immigrants living in Greece. They went there for the reason immigrants have gone to other countries forever: to live in peace, to strive for a better life, and to be able to raise their children in a more peaceful environment, too. But Giannis and his family had many struggles in attempting to become registered “aliens” (that is, known immigrants waiting to become citizens), including some struggles just to be able to leave Greece to be drafted by the Bucks in the first place. Giannis has said, fairly recently, that if he and his family had not been able to get visas, he wouldn’t have lasted a year in the NBA — not because he didn’t have the talent, but because his family means more to him than anything.

Anyway, Giannis has had the experience of playing for several excellent coaches, including Jason Kidd and Mike Budenholzer. Every coach who has dealt with him talks about Giannis’s work ethic, his values, and about how hard he works to master everything aspect. (He still needs work on his free-throw shooting, but he has improved somewhat in the past few years.)

Still. When he was drafted, no one knew much about him. We had no idea if this was just another of the Bucks’ overreaches, or straight-up draft busts…it wasn’t, and isn’t, and instead Giannis has become one of the best players in the NBA over the past ten years. He’s world-famous, and Greece, now, is delighted to claim him as a favorite son and citizen. Giannis has even played for Greece’s national team in international competition…talk about a huge change in circumstances, huh?

But this is only one of the stories the Bucks have had over the years, with the most recent story — happening before Dad died — being the replacement of Coach Budenholzer with rookie head coach Adrian Griffin. (I wrote about this at the time Coach Bud was fired, and felt it was unfair and unjust.) Dad didn’t know how Adrian Griffin was going to do, and he didn’t get a chance to watch or hear the Bucks in regular game-play. (I think he might’ve heard a few pre-season games on the radio, but pre-season can’t tell you very much when you’re dealing with a veteran team rounding into shape.)

Then, if you have followed the NBA at all, you know what else happened after my father passed away. (No, not ’cause of him dying, but still.) The Bucks replaced Coach Griffin, even though he had a sparkling record of something like 30-13, because the Bucks were not playing good defense. To be honest, the Bucks weren’t even playing average defense; they mostly were playing very, very poorly, and while they were still winning most of their games, they had to scrap and claw and fight at the end of the game to win too often for the front office’s liking. That’s why they brought in the next coach, well-traveled veteran coach Doc Rivers.

Now, Rivers played for Marquette, years ago. He was an excellent player, and his number was retired by Marquette (if memory serves). He enjoyed Milwaukee, and he said the only reason he decided to come to Milwaukee mid-season — doing something that’s almost unheard of — is because he really wanted to be here again.

Rivers, BTW, is going to be coaching in the All-Star game this weekend, something even he believes is bizarre and nonsensical. (He’s said so several times, too, mostly on the local broadcasts and in the papers and blogosphere.) He said he’s going because a) the coaching staff deserves it (all those assistant coaches get an additional paycheck, and of course they also get some more notice league-wide), and b) he believes Adrian Griffin deserves a paycheck. (I am guessing Rivers looked into whether he could bow out of this without adversely affecting the Bucks coaching staff, and wasn’t able to do it.) Rivers has said firmly that he does not deserve to be the coach of the All-Star game and I hope he does indeed send the paycheck to Adrian Griffin.

These are all things I wish I could’ve discussed with my father.

Mind you, Dad did not in general feel that the All-Star game was very important. He mostly didn’t want anyone to get hurt in a meaningless game, as he did worry about such things. (Too many Brewers, Bucks, and Packers over the years have been injured in meaningless games, whether in the pre-season or in the All-Star Game/Pro Bowl, for Dad to think otherwise. I agreed with him, too.) But this All-Star game probably would’ve been different, at least regarding Adrian Griffin’s situation.

Finally, one of the biggest sports stories since Dad died in October was when former Brewers manager Craig Counsell decided to become the manager of the Chicago Cubs instead. Counsell was the Brewers manager until the end of the season, and had said he would make up his mind after the season ended. We fans had been led to believe that Counsell would give the Brewers the opportunity to match any salary quoted to him by any other team, but that doesn’t appear to have happened.

Dad didn’t think Counsell would go anywhere. First off, Counsell was a home-grown player who had partly become a manager in the first place because the Brewers had seen his potential during Counsell’s last few playing years (spent with the Brewers). Second, Counsell had an almost unparalleled status in Wisconsin as someone everyone liked — they might not always like his managing, but they liked him. Plus, Dad felt that if Counsell did go elsewhere, he’d pick an American League team that didn’t play the Brewers very much, just out of common courtesy.

None of that happened. Counsell went to the Cubs, a team that’s just down the road; the National League Team closest to the Brewers, rather than a team further away that we’d not see much. Counsell also is getting paid a reported $8M a year to manage, which almost doubles his salary from last year with the Brewers. (Note that the top-paid manager last year was Terry Francona of Cleveland, and he made, I think, $5.5M. No one was even close to Francona; Counsell was probably as close as it got, else.)

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, Counsell made a video for the Cubs — and no, I’m not going to link to it — that says something to the effect about how he was “born a Cub.”

That’s just wrong, you know? That’s wrong. That treats the Brewers fans like we don’t matter, like everything we did wasn’t enough, and it’s astonishing to think that a Wisconsin-grown man can do and say something that’s so tremendously classless.

I’m sure this is how my father would’ve felt about it, too. He’d probably have called Counsell a “Benedict Arnold,” and have been upset that a man who has worked in baseball all his adult life, who’s made an excellent living and has an even better retirement ahead of him no matter what else he does, would choose to spit in the face of the Brewers fans and the state of Wisconsin as a whole just for the sake of $3.5M a year.

Counsell is not a guy who’s going to lose his earning potential anytime soon, either. So this is not a “swing for the fences, this is the only time I’ll even get a chance at making $8M in my life” sort of deal. Instead, this was meant to try to raise the salaries of managers overall — Counsell had said something like this, a few years ago, and it’s been dwelled upon in the Milwaukee radio market somewhat. (It’s also as good a reason as any for Counsell to do this, but I digress.)

I’m all for raising the salaries of managers. They are underpaid, compared to the players. So are the rest of the coaching staff.

But I am not for treating fans as dismissively as has Craig Counsell. Nor was my father.

So, as time goes on, I’ll probably think of more things I want to talk with Dad about. Players will get traded, released, injured (though we never wanted to see that, and I still don’t), all that…new, young players will make impacts (such as Brewers rookie OF Jackson Chourio, one of the most highly-touted Brewers rookies in the last twenty years), too. Coaches and managers will change, as we’ve seen three times in a year with the Milwaukee Bucks, and also with the Brewers when Counsell went to take the job with Chicago. (BTW, the Brewers elevated bench coach Pat Murphy, an extremely sensible choice. Murphy has a sense of humor, too, which will be a nice change from Counsell’s laconic, stoic game summaries.) Other things, stuff I hadn’t ever considered possible, no doubt will happen, too.

Now, my whole family is doing its best to watch the Bucks, Packers, and Brewers’ various situations, as we all know Dad can’t anymore. (I’d do it anyway, at least to a point. Especially when it comes to baseball, my favorite sport.) I think this is our way of saying that Dad mattered to us — or, at least, that it’s my way.

At this point, I just hope my way makes some sense.

When Life Does Not Go As Planned…

Folks, this past week has been a difficult one for me. I’m ramping up to the nineteenth observance of my beloved husband Michael’s day of death, something I call a “sadiversary” (a contraction of sad and anniversary). But I’ve also noticed a few other stories that I wanted to discuss, also about life not going as planned…so, let’s get started.

First off, Aaron Rodgers’ plans to be the New York Jets’ starting quarterback did not go as planned. He played one series and got sacked; he couldn’t get up. It turns out he has a ruptured Achilles tendon. This puts him out for the year.

Now, most of you are probably thinking, “What does this have to do with me? Aaron Rodgers has a ton of money, he could just retire, he goes on all sorts of jaunts all over the world, and even participated in a ‘darkness retreat.'”

What it has to do with you is this: No matter how much money you have, no matter how much status you’ve attained (as Rodgers is a sure-fire first-ballot NFL Hall of Fame pick), your life won’t always go as planned.

I mean, who wants to have to rehab a ruptured Achilles tendon? Whether you’re an athlete or not, that’s just painful. It’s more common in professional sports than in everyday life because of the wear and tear athletes put on their bodies, not to mention the other pro athletes they play beside and across, who also put wear and tear on their bodies in a different way that sometimes interacts with you. (Such as when Rodgers was sacked by the opposing Buffalo Bills’ defensive line.) But it’s painful, and because I’ve known some folks in everyday life who’ve had similar issues, I know it’s life-disrupting, uncomfortable, and unpleasant.

No amount of money makes the healing go any faster, either.

So, here you are if you’re Aaron Rodgers. You’ve made a huge move from Green Bay to New York City. You participated in all of the off-season workouts, as well as the entirety of training camp — not something that most long-time quarterbacks do as it does put more wear and tear on the body, especially as they already have a ton of wear and tear as it is. You did everything you possibly could to get ready for the NFL season with a new team, new-to-you players, and a new attitude.

Then, your season ends after Week One.

What comes to mind for me, with regards to Aaron Rodgers, is this: How much Netflix is he going to be watching? How many rehab appointments will he have? How many stints in the “warming pool” (what the rest of us would probably call a Jacuzzi) that he most likely has at home? (Many players do for obvious reasons.) Will he try to help the Jets as an unofficial coach, or will that not be allowed or wanted?

See, this was not what he wanted at all.

And in case the point hasn’t been made, another thing that came to my attention this week, but actually happened earlier this year, was Disturbed’s lead vocalist David Draiman’s divorce from his wife of ten years, Lena. Draiman has a beautiful, powerful voice, a ton of musical talent — as does the entire band that comprises Disturbed — has traveled the world, has had many interesting experiences and written great music with his band…yet even he, with the money, the status in the music field, and with all the good will in the world, still ended up divorced.

Draiman is known in hard-rock fandom as being one of the nicest guys in rock or metal music. He remembers people’s names, he honestly cares about others, and some of the songs he and his band have come with in the last ten years — including “Hold on to Memories,” “The Light,” and “A Reason to Fight” — are beautiful, powerful anthems about how difficult life is, how frustrating it is when bad things happen, and how awful it can be to mourn people who are gone too soon. (“Hold on to Memories” was written partly because of the loss of his good friends Chester Bennington, lead singer of Linkin Park, and the inestimable vocalist Chris Cornell, he of Soundgarden and Audioslave fame.) Draiman also said in various places that his divorce was not due to infidelity on either side; he views this as his failure alone, mind you, from everything I’ve seen and read, but I think that’s him taking too much responsibility for something that perhaps was going to end no matter what he did.

(I say this as someone who’s been divorced. You can love someone, care about them to the Nth degree, maybe even have a child with ’em as Draiman has with his ex-wife Lena…but sometimes there’s just nothing you can do.)

Draiman, in several videos I’ve seen of live recordings made this year that I’ve viewed on YouTube (not going to link to ’em to save space), said that he feels the call of depression himself. That earlier this year — probably, and possibly elliptically, referring to his divorce — that he almost joined Cornell and Bennington in prematurely ending his life. (Both Cornell and Bennington died by suicide, two months apart. They were also good friends of each other, and Bennington died on what would’ve been Cornell’s 53rd birthday.)

See, depression can hit anyone. Even a rock star with millions in the bank, a massive following, talent to burn, all that.

Depression is just that powerful of a force to fight.

I know this myself. Every year around this time, I have to fight my own depression much harder. I think to myself, “How could I possibly have lived nearly nineteen years without my husband? It just seems like yesterday, he was here…” Then I realize it’s been such a long time, and I know with a shock that no matter how much I want him to be here in the body as well as in spirit (as I don’t think his spirit went too far away), he’ll never be here in that way for me again.

I wake up every day, every single day, and want my husband. I want to kiss him good morning. I want to kiss him good night. I want to hug him, hold his hand, talk to him, listen to his wonderful baritone voice (as he said, he couldn’t sing, but man, his speaking voice was amazing), hear how his mind works, know what he’s thinking with regards to his stories…in short, I want the incredible, amazing, wonderful, best person I’ve ever known to still walk this Earth beside me. Not just to cheer me on, though he was great at that, too. Not just because he understood me the best anyone’s ever done, either. But because he, himself, was worth everything. Absolutely everything.

It’s hard to go on when something traumatic has happened. The loss of your job — even if temporary, in Rodgers’ case, depending on whether he wants to do the extensive rehab (my guess is yes, but who knows right now?) — is a huge stressor. The loss of your marriage through divorce is also brutal.

So is widowhood.

It’s easy to say, “Find someone else.” (Or as in my case, “You’re young. You can remarry,” which I heard not two days after Michael had died. I still want to throttle that person for that insensitive comment.) It’s easy to say, “You have millions in the bank. Count your blessings.”

(Not that I have millions, ’cause I decidedly don’t. But I trust the point has been made.)

It’s really hard to get up every day, do the work of living, try to find something positive when everything inside you feels like it’s crashing to the ground, over and over again. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, in fact.

Even if, someday, I find someone who understands me well enough to know that Michael being in my life was by far the most formative influence I’ve ever had, I’ll still miss Michael. It might be easier, if that day ever comes. (I think Michael wants it to happen. He wasn’t petty. He’d want me to find any happiness I could. Honestly, that’s how he rolled.) But it’ll never be easy.

Confronting “sadiversaries” is very hard. Dealing with the blows life sends you, all unlooked for (’cause who’d want ’em?), is also very difficult.

The only way I know is forward, though.

So, for Rodgers — not that he’s ever likely to read this — I hope he knows that the work he did with the Jets was valuable and may make the difference for one or more of the players this year. I hope he knows that this was just random, in a weird way, in the same way Kobe Bryant went down with an Achilles injury years ago (injured in an NBA game). What he did mattered, even if it doesn’t feel like it now.

And for Draiman — not that he’s ever likely to read this, either — I hope he knows that the ten years he spent with his wife and son were beautiful, memorable, special things. (Draiman also lost his dog, an Akita, at age fourteen recently. That, too, has not helped…I understand completely, as I still miss my dog Trouble, a Shih Tzu mix who died at age seventeen a few years ago.) The years he spent with his dog and feeling the unconditional love mattered, the love he had for his wife mattered, the love he continues to have for his son matters and always will.

Life, sometimes, is just damned hard. But we get up, we try, we do our best, we create or build or work hard on whatever it is that we feel called to do. Even when we’ve felt like we’ve failed at our deepest levels, what we’ve done matters. Even when our lives have been shattered, what we’ve done and who we’ve loved and how hard we’ve tried matters.

So, for the “sadiversary” that rapidly approaches on September 21, I will keep telling myself that my love for my husband mattered then, still matters now, and always will. As long as I’m alive, at least part of Michael is alive. And he’d want me to “go do the best things in life…make the most of the rest of your life, make a ride of this world while you can,” just as Disturbed’s song “Hold on to Memories” says.

I will keep endeavoring to do just that.

How do you handle “sadiversaries?” Do you have tips on how to get through the day? (I advise dark chocolate as one of ’em, just in case anyone’s wondering.) If so, leave a comment. (Or leave one anyway, even if you don’t have any tips or are fortunate enough not to have any sadiversaries…yet.)

What Do You Deserve from Your Employer, Or, Meditations on Mike Budenholzer’s Firing from the Milwaukee Bucks

This past week, the Milwaukee Bucks parted ways with their head coach, Mike Budenholzer. The Bucks had the best record in the NBA this past season at 58-24, and had the #1 seed throughout the playoffs. However, this only lasted for one series, as the Bucks were eliminated by the #8 seed, the Miami Heat. It’s because of this disastrous (for pro sports) outcome that Budenholzer was fired.

“Ah, but Barb,” you say. “Your blog’s title is ‘What do you deserve from your employer.’ What does that have to do with the Bucks/Budenholzer situation?'”

My answer: Plenty.

You see, for the second year in a row, the Bucks went out early in the playoffs, though last year the Bucks at least got through the first round and past the #8 seed. (Early, in this context is, “Did not ascend to the NBA Finals.”) The Bucks feature possibly the best player in the NBA, Giannis Antetokounmpo. He’s in his prime right now at age 28, and the Bucks have been built around him for five-plus years now.

I say “five-plus” because Budenholzer was the coach for the past five years. Budenholzer’s record in the regular season was stellar at 271-120, which means the Bucks won almost seventy percent of their games.

Yep. No misprint. That’s how many wins Budenholzer had as the head coach of the Bucks: 271.

Not only that, Budenholzer coached the Bucks to the 2021 NBA Championship. The Bucks hadn’t won a championship in the NBA in fifty years, but they won with “Coach Bud.”

“Barb, you still haven’t gotten to the bit about what the coach deserves from his employer. I assume that’s where you’re going with this?”

Why, yes, dear reader. That is exactly — exactly — what I’m going for, and I’ll tell you why, too.

First, though, I want to explain something else to y’all, some of you who probably don’t know much about professional basketball. When you have the best team in the league, you are expected to win all the time, no matter what.

Including when one of your brothers dies in a car accident, which no one knew about until after the Bucks had lost in five games to the Heat.

See, Coach Bud didn’t want to make the playoffs about him, so he said nothing. But he was grieving. He found out just before game four that his brother had died. And it was in games four and five that some of the coach’s decisions seemed rather odd. But he is the youngest of seven kids. One of his elder brothers died, Budenholzer was being private as is his right about his brother’s passing, but I don’t think the coach understood just how strange grief can be when it comes to anything else. Most particularly the time sense, as when you grieve for someone you loved, nothing seems real for a while. And certainly time seems sometimes like it’s running away, and other times, it seems like it’s stopped.

I don’t know about you, but I think if someone who’s very good at their job, like Coach Bud, has a bad series or makes questionable decisions after his brother dies, I think you should give him a pass. He’s grieving, dammit! His brother’s life was more important than basketball, and yet because he is a professional, and because he’d been with his team all year, he stayed to do his best and coach his team.

I admire that impulse, but it may not have the right one.

That said, the Bucks did way wrong here. They should not have fired Coach Bud, not under these circumstances. Instead, they should’ve hired a top-flight assistant head coach perhaps to work on the defense (as the Bucks’ defense got torched by Heat superstar Jimmy “Buckets” Butler and were completely unable to stop him) and let the coach grieve his brother.

Why? Well, look again at the coach’s record. Think about the fact that two years ago, the Bucks won the NBA Championship for the first time in 50 years with this coach at the helm.

In most cases, employers realize if they have a great employee — and in any case, Coach Bud was just that — but the employee is a bit off due to grief or grieving, even if the employee maybe doesn’t even realize it (it’s possible the coach didn’t), you are supposed to let your employee take time off to deal with his grief.

In other words, you don’t fire the best coach in the NBA because he was off a bit for two games after his brother died. That’s dumb, to put it mildly, and more to the point, it’s an overreaction.

So, what does your employer owe you when you have something awful happen like a death in the family? They owe you time to grieve. They should give you time off from work, with pay, to go bury your sibling in a case like this.

You don’t deserve to be fired.

I don’t know Coach Budenholzer at all. But I do know this. What the Bucks did was classless, not to mention truly horrible behavior under the circumstances. They should not have done this. And as a Bucks fan, I am incensed.

Damar Hamlin Released from Hospital, Sent Home to Recover

Folks, I am very pleased — and relieved — to know that Damar Hamlin, safety for the Buffalo Bills, was released from the hospital in Buffalo and was sent home to recuperate. This is not an outcome I would’ve expected last week when Hamlin suddenly, and scarily, fell backward. But it’s happened, and to me at least, it seems like a miracle.

Granted, there’s a saying I’ve heard that goes like this: “Miracles can happen through human hands, with God/dess flowing through.” That is, if we’re willing to help, if we’re willing to do whatever we can, then sometimes the Deity can use us. That certainly seems to be the case with Hamlin, as the trainers went right out and started CPR, then got out the AED (auto-defibrillator) and made sure his heart was in rhythm before the ambulance came to take him away.

One of the doctors at the previous hospital in Cincinnati said this is not only a very good outcome, but the rapidity of it seems remarkable. (I am giving my best paraphrase of something I saw on TV two or three days ago, so I hope this makes sense.) It’s an outcome that no one could’ve expected to have so soon…but it is warmly welcomed.

From what I heard tonight, it sounds like Hamlin will be working with the athletic trainers for the Bills along with a bunch of other specialists to help him heal. That he can do it from home, rather than from a rehab hospital, is possibly the biggest and best piece of news I’ve heard thus far.

See, recovering at home, when you can, is by far superior to having to stay in a nursing home (rehab place). You have more freedom, more autonomy, you can make more choices, and it’s far easier to relax in your own home, besides.

When I wrote the first blog about Hamlin last week, I had no idea what would happen. Like a lot of others, I prayed for a good outcome for him, as he’s only twenty-four. (I’d have prayed anyway, mind you, no matter what his age.) I hoped he’d wake up, know himself, know his family, know his team, and what he’d been doing before he collapsed, and he’s done all of those things. In addition, in the last couple of days (since this past Sunday, for sure), Hamlin has been Tweeting, and he’s also using his entrepreneurial spirit to sell t-shirts to raise money for the first responders who helped him.

So, in the span of about ten days, he went from sudden collapse due to a cardiac arrest to resuscitated due to the quick-acting and quick-thinking first responders to waking up and asking questions (including whether or not the Bills won the game) that showed he was “neurologically intact.” (This phrase was used several times by the Cincinnati doctors.) Then, after that, the ventilator was taken out, he started talking, then he started to Tweet again, was released from the hospital in Cincinnati to be flown to a hospital in Buffalo, and now he’s been released to go home so he can rehab on his own (with a lot of helpful people on his side, to be sure).

That’s amazing.

That’s the outcome everyone I knew was hoping for.

To my mind, it’s a medical miracle that Hamlin not only is alive but seems to be thriving (as much as anyone can, ten days out from a cardiac arrest).

Again, I am very, very happy that he’s back home and doing so well. May it continue to be so.

Figure Skating’s Black Eye, 2022 Edition

Folks, I’ve written about figure skating before. I love the sport. At it’s best, it can be both artistic and athletic; it also can transport in the same way as music, dance, or literature.

So I don’t enjoy writing posts like this. But it must be said.

Russian figure skater Kamila Valieva, who’s all of fifteen, failed a recent drug test before the Olympics started. However, this only came out in the past week.

After several days of dithering, the various places that debate such things — as a fifteen-year-old has less responsibility by rule, apparently, than an older person — have decided that she should still be allowed to continue to skate at the Olympics despite her failed drug test.

Now, Ms. Valieva is the best female skater in the world at the present time. She has a few quadruple jumps — four revolutions in the air after takeoff — and is also excellent artistically. She’s someone who doesn’t need to cheat, in other words, and when the word came out about her positive drug test, most people were shocked.

The drug she tested positive for is a heart medication. She’s fifteen and does not need this medication. Supposedly, taking it will give her greater endurance than someone who isn’t.

Have I mentioned yet that she doesn’t need to cheat?

Anyway, her coach, who I will not name as I am disgusted with her, is known for pushing her young athletes too hard. The young Russian skaters basically are used up in four or five years. They have multiple injuries and skate anyway. Some, including Julia Lipnitskaya, end up retiring in their teens with numerous bone breaks. Lipnitskaya herself, along with the bone breaks, also has apparently had depression and a serious eating disorder. (The heavier you are, the more difficult it is to jump. That’s the excuse given to force these young skaters to eat almost nothing; that it is true at base, but wrong as we all need to eat, just makes me even angrier.)

Quite a number of athletes, including former US figure skaters (and Olympians) Johnny Weir and Tara Lipinski (herself a former Olympic gold medalist), have come out and said this decision is flat-out wrong.

See, Russia, in general, has had doping scandals before. That’s why Russia, the country, is not allowed to compete. Instead, it’s the “Russian Olympic Committee” that’s competing.

Same coaches. Same skaters. Different name.

And, unfortunately, the same old outcome, which is this: Ms. Valieva gets to skate, will almost certainly win the gold medal, and her other Russian compatriots — also very young, with quadruple jumps in their skating “arsenal” — will probably be second and third.

That is not right. That is not just. And it should not be allowed to stand.

It cheapens the sport of figure skating. It cheapens the entire Olympics.

And it does look, as track athlete Sha’Carri Richardson said today on CBS TV, as if there is a different standard for Caucasian athletes than Black ones. (She was held out of the Olympics for testing positive for marijuana. That’s not a performance enhancer in any way. She had extenuating circumstances in that her mother died, and she was grieving, and she smoked around that time. It didn’t matter; she was out of the Olympics.)

So, where is the justice here? I, for one, don’t see it.

I have sympathy for Ms. Valieva. She is young. And I’m sure that she didn’t cheat on purpose.

That said, she still cheated, and she should still be out of the Olympics.

Anything else is flat-out wrong.

Congrats to the NBA Champion Milwaukee Bucks!

Folks, last night I watched the Milwaukee Bucks play game six in the National Basketball Association’s (NBA’s) finals against the Phoenix Suns. Bucks stars Giannis Antetokounmpo (there’s a reason Bucks announcer Ted Davis calls Giannis “the Alphabet,” folks), Khris Middleton, and Jrue Holiday, along with many other excellent players like P.J. Tucker, Thanasis Antetokounmpo (yes, Giannis’s elder brother), Pat Connaughton, and fan favorite Bobby Portis, helped the team win the first NBA championship for the city of Milwaukee (and for the Bucks franchise) in fifty years.

All I can say is what I’ve said in the title: “Congratulations!”

The Bucks as a team are excellent, but the people who make up the team are even better. Giannis is a good person, known for his philanthropy and down-to-Earth attitude. (Giannis also overcame a huge injury, that of a hyperextended knee, in order to play exceptionally well in the NBA Finals, finishing game six with fifty points. Yes, fifty points on a bad knee! But I digress.) Middleton is a hard-working sharpshooter and a devoted family man. Holiday is married to an Olympic athlete, is planning to play on the US Olympic team this year (along with Middleton), and was quick to integrate himself into the team and helped a great deal with his unselfish attitude and play.

Of course, there’s also coach Mike Budenholzer to thank, as he worked tirelessly to put together a game plan that would give Giannis, Khris Middleton, and Jrue Holiday the ability for each of them to do what they do best. Plus, he’s been great at working the bench players into games, and seems to have a sixth sense as to when someone needs a rest.

For that matter, I’d like to thank Bucks General Manager (GM) Jon Horst, as no team succeeds without a great GM.

So, while the state of Wisconsin and the city of Milwaukee continue to celebrate, and rightfully so, I wanted to say thank you to the entirety of the Bucks organization. Everyone — from the ticket sellers to the beer vendors to all of the assistant coaches and trainers plus the Bucks announcers on TV and radio — played a role in this championship. And every one of them deserves to be proud, not just of the Bucks, but of their own hard work on the Bucks’ organization’s behalf.

Remembering Henry Aaron

Last Friday morning, baseball Hall of Fame great Henry “Hank” Aaron passed away in his sleep. Aaron was many things in his lifetime: a phenomenal player, a good husband, a wonderful father, a great friend, and possibly most of all a humanitarian.

I never met Aaron, personally, but I remember going to one of his last games when I was quite young. This was in 1976. Aaron was 42 years old and a designated hitter for my hometown Milwaukee Brewers team, and it was cold, a bit rainy, and windy…when Aaron hit the ball over the fence, no one was sure if he had hit it fair or foul. To me, where I was, it looked fair. (No instant replay in the stadiums, back then.) But the umpire called it foul (no way to challenge that, back then, either), and that was that.

Aaron already had 755 home runs at that point, making him at that time the greatest home-run hitter in Major League Baseball history. But that near-miss home run is what sticks with me, mostly because Aaron didn’t complain. He didn’t yell at the umpire. He may have shaken his head a little, but he went back into the batter’s box and finished up his at-bat. (I think he struck out.)

Put simply, Henry Aaron was a class act.

Tom Haudricourt of the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel wrote an article today about a service held in Atlanta earlier today, where many different people spoke. (Some spoke by Zoom, some by recorded messages, and a few in person, as is proper during a pandemic.) Here’s one of the salient quotes from that article from Atlanta Braves chairman Terry McGuirk:

“He will always be known as our home run king,” McGuirk said. “For our organization, Hank was much more than those stats, much more than the greatest ballplayer of all time. He helped guide our organization ever since his playing days ended.

“Doing things the right way was one of his mantras. The saying on the front of today’s program, which is also on one of the pillars here, reads, ‘What you do with your life and how you do it, is not only a reflection on you, but on your family and all those institutions that have helped make you who you are.’”

I think that quote sums up what most of us are trying to understand in this lifetime. Think about it a little bit: “What you do with your life and how you do it is not only a reflection on you, but on your family and all those institutions that have helped make you who you are.” This, in one pithy saying, gets to the heart of the matter: we are who we are because of what we’ve learned, because of the people we’ve come into contact with, and because of our own efforts (the phrase “have helped make you who you are” is key in that).

Henry Aaron was 86, and lived a good, long, honorable life. He was a tremendous player — even in 1976, his final year as a player, it was obvious that everyone on the field had great respect for him. The stats can’t possibly show his value and worth as a human being, though…only those who knew him, and of his philanthropic nature, and of his wish to lift others up as he, himself, had been lifted along the way, can fully know that.

But what I know is this: We lost a wonderful person when Henry Aaron passed away.

We truly did.

Now, all we can do is remember his mantra (as stated, above, by McGuirk) and live every day the best way we can. (Or, to go back to my blog about the John Wesley saying, “Do all the good you can, for as long as you can, for as many you can.” That’s my paraphrase, but I hope it works.)

And if you’re able, do one small thing every day to better someone else’s life…just ’cause it’s the right thing to do. I think Henry Aaron would approve of that — and I, myself, definitely do.

Johnny Weir, Individuality, and You

Recently, I’ve been watching the American version of “Dancing with the Stars.” I had stopped watching regularly a few years ago (though I would catch it if I happened to be near a TV and someone else was watching), mostly because all the storylines seemed the same.

But not this year.

Nope. This year had my favorite figure skater, Johnny Weir, partnered with a new pro, Britt Stewart (who’s Black, dignified, and quite talented). And the two of them danced like nobody’s business; they were a dynamic, engaging, and energetic pair that did more interesting things in ten weeks than I’d seen in the previous five or six years on the show.

Now, why do you think that was?

(I know I’ve been asking myself this question, anyway, ever since Johnny and his partner Britt were eliminated earlier this week.)

My view is this: Johnny Weir knows who he is, as an individual. And Britt obviously knows who she is, too. They both understood each other, down to the ground, and because of that, were able to work together and create some truly amazing dance routines. (Johnny and Britt’s tribute to Amy Winehouse, for example, was simply stunning. And that’s only one of the fine dances the two of them created together.)

“But Barb,” you say. “What’s this about being an individual, and how does that apply to me?”

It’s simple. The better you know yourself, the better work you can do. And Johnny and Britt showed that, over and over again, during this season on “Dancing with the Stars.”

You know, if you’ve read this blog for any length of time, that I am a firm believer in being your authentic self. I think it wastes time and energy that most of us don’t have to keep up a front. I also think the better you know yourself, the easier it is to get things done.

If you use Johnny and Britt as examples — and I think you should — you can extrapolate a little. For example, the two of them, together, were able to bring a certain style and verve into the ballroom. Johnny is more of an extrovert when he performs, while Britt has a quiet dignity to her. The two, together, were more than the sum of their parts.

And it all started because Britt apparently decided, when meeting Johnny for the first time, to use that uniqueness of his — not to mention hers (though she probably takes that for granted, as she can’t see herself from the outside anymore than any of the rest of us) — to create movement and magic.

Granted, if you think about it, it makes perfect sense. Johnny’s been a figure skater since the age of twelve. He knows about movement. He studied some dance (though I think it was ballet) because that helped him express himself through movement on the ice.

And knowing about movement helped him a great deal, I think. It meant Britt did not have to teach him from Ground Zero.

However, it also may have hampered him a bit, because ballet — and the associated movements of that dance — are nothing like either ballroom dance or Latin dance. They’re not even that close to “freestyle” contemporary dance.

What that meant for Johnny was, he had to unlearn at the same time as he learned. And that’s tough to do.

How do I know this? Well, Johnny once said, about learning a new technique for one of his jumps, that he was “old.” At the age of twenty-five or twenty-six, he said this. (Chronologically, of course, that was just silly. But with the wear and tear of figure skating, I’m sure he did feel old.) And he admitted, at the time, it was not easy to unlearn the previous technique.

(I probably should say “jettison,” but learning is not like that. It stays with you. It can’t truly be jettisoned. You can only use it, or not, or get past it, or not. But I digress.)

So, Britt taught Johnny, as well as helped him correct various issues, and worked with him and his uniqueness from the get-go. (Maybe all of the pro dancers do this, but it seems to me as a longtime viewer of “Dancing with the Stars” that it was far more pronounced in Johnny’s case.)

Being an individual, see, has its charms as well as its quirks. You can do more, if you know exactly who you are. (Again, I think it has something to do with refusing to waste your energy on non-essentials.) Add in the fact that when you’re doing more, you are giving your all to it rather than holding some back to “save face.” And top it off with a good, healthy dose of self-skepticism, for that matter, as that will keep you from getting too arrogant to be borne. (That last has nothing to do with Johnny Weir or his partner, Britt, but it certainly should be factored in by the rest of us.)

Anyway, the points of this blog are simple:

1. Be yourself. Be unique.
2. Don’t put on fronts, as they waste your time and energy.

That’s the way to “win” at life, you know. Because that’s the way you will be remembered: as the unique, powerful individual you are, who touched many lives and did many things and knew many people and tried your level best.

Anything less than that just isn’t worth bothering about.

Narrative Framing, the Milwaukee Bucks, and You

Folks, over the past week or so as I’ve battled an illness, I’ve been thinking about how we shape our own narratives. (Again, as this is one of my besetting sins as a novelist.) And that led me to ponder the Milwaukee Bucks, which have had one of the best years in their team’s history and have made it all the way to the Eastern Conference Finals…which you’d think would be good enough for anyone.

But as the Bucks were expected throughout to go to the NBA Finals, people have been up in arms (including yours truly) when they lost game 5 to the Toronto Raptors at home to put them down three games to two. They now face elimination in game 6.

The thing is, if you think about it, just getting to the Eastern Conference Finals is wonderful. The Bucks were “one and done” last year. And, I believe, the year before that.

But this year, they swept their initial playoff series, against the Detroit Pistons. And then they won easily over the Boston Celtics in the second round.

This, mainly, along with a stellar regular season, is why Bucks fans have taken a doom-and-gloom attitude.

And that led me to consider how else we tend to frame our own narrative in our lives. Do we think of the bright side? (Should we is another question, but that’s for another day.) Or do we think of what’s not working rather than what is, and concentrate on our failings rather than our successes?

I don’t know about you, but I tend to think about the failures, myself. I think about how I could’ve done this, that, or the other better. Sometimes, in the moment, it’s almost like I see myself from above and wonder, “Why can’t I do better than this? Why is it that I can barely explain myself? Why is it that I can’t make better decisions? Why do I run out of time?” and so on.

I wonder if that’s where the Bucks are at, right now. But I strongly suspect, as their season is not over, that they aren’t.

Are they happy to be down 3-2 and facing elimination? Of course not. (Who would be?)

But they have things they can still do. And I believe they’re most likely concentrating on them, and how they need to just do a few more things to get a win (in sports parlance, a W)…they may even be focusing on past success against the Raptors, and be looking at what they’ve done differently (and worse) in this series that hasn’t been working.

Forward, they are probably looking. Not back.

Now, does this make any difference in what happens in Game 6? You better believe it does. They can go in there and do their level best, knowing their season will be over if they don’t give it everything they possibly have.

And of course they could still lose. But if they do, they’ll know — providing they gave it their all, and tried their best, and focused their minds and bodies properly — it wasn’t their time to shine after all.

That can be a bitter lesson, sometimes. Because we try our best, and we want to shine all the time.

But no one — not Michael Jordan, not LeBron James, not Wilt Chamberlain, not George Mikan, nor any other basketball superstar over the years — has ever shined all the time. Because it’s not humanly possible.

So, let’s take a step back, and frame this differently, OK?

The fact is, the Bucks’ Giannis Antetokounmpo is a great player. He may well win the NBA Most Valuable Player award this year, and if so, it’ll be richly deserved.  And he’s  led the Bucks to an excellent season.

These pluses are not negated, nor should they be, if the Raptors do succeed in beating the Bucks.**

How does that relate to your own, personal situation, though?

In essence, you need to learn how to frame your own narrative. Stop beating yourself up because you can’t seem to get ahead no matter how hard you try. Think about your successes once in a while, rather than always and only your failures. And do what you can to remember that you are a vital person with a role to play whether it seems like it or not.

That’s how you can learn from the doom and gloom over the Milwaukee Bucks and their current situation.

What do you think about this blog? Tell me about it in the comments!

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**As a fan, I will admit that if the Bucks can’t win game 6 and force a game 7, for a few days I will go around with a bad taste in my mouth. (That comes with the territory.)