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Precious Time

I’ve been in the middle of compiling a separate blog for a few days but as I try to finish it up I’m overcome with the insignificance it really has after learning of the tragic news of another one gone too soon. Even though Jessica and I weren’t close friends, we were friends all the same and losing someone who was so genuine and had such a promising future it opens up old wounds on my internal struggles and a topic I’ve been internalizing – time.

As many of you know, I’ve always been open about my thoughts and feelings. The lesser known side of me is deeply personal and I often keep my family and relationships out of my status updates. It’s been over the past year I have been going through likely what is the most challenging personal trials of my life. During that time I have lost loved one’s, relationships old and new, friends and to a large degree – myself.

This isn’t going to be a tell-all entry, but I’ve screwed up. Definitely more than my fair share. I own it. I’m sorry for it. I hope I can be forgiven. With most things it’s never one person’s fault. Perspective is a mother fucker and I’m the worst when it comes to beating myself up. This entry is my attempt to right the ship.

The plan was to drink until the pain over But what’s worse, the pain or the hangover?

Much like someone who is trying to cope with these difficulties in life by drinking, I would get lost in my work. Keeping my mind busy was my way of drinking until the pain was over. It wasn’t until after work slowed that I had time to reflect, and feel the hangover of everything I had been avoiding.

To be clear it’s not work’s fault, it’s mine. It was too easy for me to put off confronting all these things when I could fall back on, “I don’t have time. Work.”

I never really dealt with my feelings for the person in this world who I loved and admired most. I never truly grieved. I don’t know why, I guess it was because I never truly had to do it before. As my mind has settled into an idle I’ve realized when I’ve been doing “nothing” and avoided that’s what I regret most. It’s the lost time, all of it. What would I have done different? How and with whom would I have spent those extra minutes, hours, days? I can think of a thousand ways. And it hurts a lot.

(Insert Lost One Lyric Here, I have to choose ONE smh) But time don’t go back, it goes forward. Can’t run from the pain, go towards it

During some of my downtime the past two months my own mind has become a prison that I’ve been torturing myself in. Over these past few weeks it’s become crystal clear I have to move forward because standing still is really moving backward and it’s what is keeping me trapped. I’ve been standing still for years and I don’t have the luxury of time to continue doing that or the stamina to continue punishing myself and building these regrets. It’s been extremely difficult but I’ve finally figured that much out.

All I can do is learn from my experiences and try to improve myself from them. I’m not sure what’s going to happen in my future but all I can do is concentrate on those things I can control. One thing I can definitely get control on is me. It’s likely there will be some changes in my life. Change is scary but necessary. All I can ask for is support on my journey to rediscover myself, it’s something I have to do for me and do by myself. I hope those of you who read this and may take that statement the hardest understand that.

Maybe I have finally learned the difficult lesson that has been too long in the process: Don’t waste time, not one second. Time is a resource that’s unrecoverable once it’s gone. Every minute of time should be used to be who I want to be, love who I want to love, and given to those who support and love me.

I’m going to do my best. Ben

Don’t Call, Don’t Text, Don’t Tweet, Don’t Email

This post was started on Jan 21, 2012, after the Spurs lost to the Rockets, the team’s second straight loss. This entry has been added to, edited, blown up and resuscitated several times until our final demise in Game 6 and was finally published on June 10, 2012.

To many sports are a recreation. A hobby. Entertainment. Relaxation. An escape.

For some of us, sports are all of that and then some. Even more than that, it’s our livelihood.

I can’t recall a moment of my life where I didn’t want to have a career in sports. No matter what twist or turn my life took, there was one constant goal of knowing my future industry.

Growing up in eastern Kentucky it’s easy to dream of these things and escaping Appalachia. It’s much harder to actually do it. But this is not a story about getting out of the mean hollers of Pike County. It’s about the work-life I live and the emotions involved.

Not too long ago I spoke with an old friend. We had grown up together and were like brothers but over the past decade we had lost touch. While catching up he told me, “You’re doing it man. We’ve all just gone through the motions but you know you did it while the rest of us are just sitting on our ass.”

As good as that made me feel and as awesome as some of the experiences I’ve had there’s very little sense of “normalcy” about my life. We all sacrifice for our careers, but I’m going to say working in non-stop professional team sports it’s a little different for us. I get to live basketball 365 days a year with the Spurs and Silver Stars, and it has taken a toll on my personal relationships, but that’s what I chose to do and I’m lucky to have friends and family who support me.

I love games. I love being part of the action, in the mix, all the lights on, all the sports world’s attention on one moment, one close-out game, one game winning basket.

I also love winning. Working with teams gives me the opportunity to have that feeling quite often, especially with the success we’ve had here in San Antonio. But it also gives me a feeling I hate, hate more than I love winning – losing.

It’s never as good as it seems or as bad as it seems.

Now there are those out there, who may say that we don’t win or lose, we just work for the team. To these people, I would like to extend both middle fingers to you because you clearly have no idea what you’re talking about. I can’t speak for other organizations, but for me and my experience and those who I work with, we put everything we have into our jobs and we’re all one team. Granted I’m not hitting shots or playing D, that’s Tim, Tony and Manu’s job. But each one on our staff is the backbone of everything our organization is.

For me I’m fully invested in my job and the team. I’m not shy to admit it. Call me the eternal optimist, there hasn’t been a game in the past six playoffs runs and regular seasons that I didn’t truly believe we had a shot at winning each and every time. Sure I know we’re not going to win every game, but there hasn’t been a moment where I felt the team was counted out.

That ultimate confidence could be a problem. That doesn’t mean I’m interested in getting use to winning less, because I have zero interest in that. Again, I hate losing and when the eventual loss happens it hits even harder. With the countless hours or work, physically and mentally supporting a team from within it makes losing excruciating. To get to that place, one has to go through those anxiety ridden moments that lead to the eventual gut punch.

First step is sheer disbelief:

“We got this.”

“This isn’t going to happen.”

“We’ve come back x-number of times, believe.”

“Gonna make a stop this time down, and a big bucket momentum is gonna swing.”

After things don’t go so well and time is dwindling urgency really picks up, close to panic levels.

“Gotta have that stop now boys.”

“SHOTS WHY ARE YOU NOT FALLING!?!”

“A STOP. Just make a STOP.”

“Are you serious right now?!?!”

“Now we need a bucket in the worst way.”

“And a stop.”

Around the one minute mark panic says hello.

“DZKXHIFHFDHIGPGIDENNGPDHGSPPJDJOYD!”

At this point there is one thread of hope dangling and it is the this-is-going-to-be-the-greatest-comeback-I’ve-ever-seen-and-I-might-die moment. I have yet to see this moment, but it’s always there around the :45-:30 remaining to play of an almost out of hand game.

Finally there is the loss. The horn has sounded. It’s all over. The season, the playoffs everything you’ve done for months has been blown away by the wind as quickly as you can blink. For just a moment total disbelief, then the reality of the moment sets in.

Game is over. We lost. All that effort, all that dedication is for not this year. And I still have roughly two hours of work to do, “crap I have to get back to work and go in the losing locker room.”

By the way, the losing locker room of a close out game is the worst. I know going in there that no matter how I feel these gladiators feel worse. As bad as I know they feel, many if not all of them know I’m feeling the same way. And for someone who has never felt this type of gut punch you may never understand how either feel.

Winning wants to be shared with everyone. In 2007 I texted, called, and emailed almost everyone I knew. After suffering a loss the last thing I want to do is share it. I don’t want to be connected to the world having comments, questions and condolences coming in. Please leave me alone for a few hours to let the initial sting go away.

I think I was over the OKC loss about… yeah I’m not over it just yet. Merely having a conversation about the series earlier in the day brought back some bitterness, not much, but some.

My hate for losing is so much greater than the love of winning because being on top of the world is gone in a flash while the negatives of a loss stay to eat at you much longer. Thanks in advance for understanding and don’t call, don’t text, don’t tweet or email me about it.

Tags: losing sucks

Eulogy of My Papaw

Ed Hunt April 27, 1921 – April 7, 2012

“Love and be good to one another.”

That’s what Papaw told me.

He probably told me that dozens, maybe hundreds of times. “You should love and be good to one another.” He would say.

Usually I was pretty sure he was talking about my brother and I since it’s quite possible we were quarreling. But looking at it now Papaw wasn’t just saying it about me and Patrick.

As long as I can remember everything Papaw did, he did because he loved us. He was thoughtful, he was caring, he was good to us and he was a great friend. He loved everyone of us with everything he had.

Papaw spoke to me often about his final days and when he would no longer be with us. When others he knew would pass, he would tell me he wished to slip off in his sleep, to not be in any pain or suffering, to not be a burden on anyone and for us to love each other.

He would also tell me about how much fun we had together. Climbing the mountains squirrel hunting, pitching a baseball for me to hit, playing Rook, fishing in the creek and being his buddy helping him work outside the house. He told me so much about coal mining, I felt like I’d been working that Joy loader myself.

But that’s how we all knew him. Whether we called him Papaw, Daddy, honey, Eddie boy, Ed – with one D or with two, we knew exactly who he was and we knew he loved us. There’s simply not enough words to describe what he means to us all.

He was the best and I will miss everything about him. We all will. But if we take away one thing from all the lessons he taught us, let it be, “love and be good to one another.”

The One Where I Met Dominique Wilkins

Did I tell you all about the first time I met Dominique Wilkins?

So the first time I met Dominique Wilkins, it was an accident really. I was looking for Micah Hart who then worked for hawks.com and I went into the media dining area.

Just a little background here, I had never met Micah before. We had spoken on the phone and exchanged emails, but we had never met.

Anyway, I go into the media dining area… There was a table of unfamiliar faces among the crowd of regulars. Figuring these were Hawks peeps, I asked them if they knew Micah.

Little did I know that the man with his back to me, who I was directing my question of, “Hey guys, do any of you know Micah Hart?” was my favorite player of all-time growing up, Dominique Wilkins.

So Nique, being one of the coolest dudes since George Gervin proceeded to bust my chops. “Ha! Do we know Micah! Well you’re looking at him.”

(Micah was at the table.)

I was like “Hahaha, oh Mr. Wilkins you’re funny. But do you really know Micah?” Nique then pointed across the table. And at that moment Micah revealed himself, we exchanged pleasantries and I patted Nique on the back.

Needless to say I was a little embarrassed for not recognizing one of the game’s best and one of my personal favorites but I got a handshake and shuffled on out of greatness’s way.

This entire story was build up because today is Nique’s birthday. So Happy birthday to the Human Highlight!

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