Legendary NFL quarterback was suspended this week for his "taco" comment. I really think that we, as Americans, are a little too sensitive. I personally believe that ethnic food jokes are good fun. For years, being a Louisianian, I've had my crawfish called fish bait. We know the Scots love their haggis. The Texans love their barbeque. The yanks love their brats. The Irish love their potatoes. Blacks love their fried chicken. The Asians love their rice. The Italians love their pasta. This morning in Morocco, the wealthy might splurge on monkey brains! I consider it all fair game. Hearing the Griese story makes me segue into a story of my own. It's 1975 and I'm 12 years old. My father and I are golfing at a lodge in North Carolina. We're on the 10th tee, I'm lining up my shot, and my father says "Don't worry about Bob Griese on the driving range". Bob along with his future NFL quarterback son, Brian, are hitting balls on the driving range. Immediately my brain starts repeating "don't slice, don't slice, don't slice". Well sometimes the brain forgets the DON'T part. Wouldn't you know that I hit a long slice heading straight for the future NFL hall of famer. My father yells out a loud "fore" and the Griese clan scatters. My dad drives the cart to the edge of the range and says "go get your ball". So to add to the humiliation, I have to go out on the range and search for my white ball amongst the hundred striped balls with Bob Griese himself looking on.
So what's the moral to these two stories? One, lets be able to laugh and laugh at ourselves. Two, focus, focus, focus. I think that teaching "focus" was my dad's intention with the teebox exercise. In these confusing times, keep your focus. Tell your brain to "hit the ball straight" instead of "don't slice"!
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