May 8, 2014

Dear portfolio reader:

 My name is Richard. I am 48 years old and I have been out of school for over 30 years. In high school I always struggled in my English classes. My greatest weakness was sentence structure and punctuation, and it hasn’t improved over the years. You could say writing is my kryptonite. The rules of writing never made sense to me, I tried but never did very well. Walking into English 101 that first day had me exhibiting feelings of nervousness and insecurity. I have been out of school so long and had no idea what to expect. To my delight I found the class to have a charming atmosphere and with the help of my instructor and classmates I found writing to be enjoyable at times. I feel that the three essays I am submitting are the best works I’ve ever written. Although I still have a lot of room for improvement, I feel more confident going forward with my education now that I have completed the course.

My first composition, “Lesson for a Lifetime”, is about the first time I played Little League baseball. I was eight years old, skinny, and afraid of my own shadow. I recall the memory so vividly because it was the first time I was forced to face my fear. It was an experience I believe has influenced how I face and overcome my fears to this day. In this essay I use vivid details and descriptions to allow the reader to step in my shoes and experience my fears, hopes and dreams.

My second composition, “Tomorrow’s Superstars”, is a paper about the subculture of young children working out with personal trainers. When I hear “personal trainer,” I think of professional athletes or movie stars; not kids. I was pretty shocked when I was made aware that my twelve year old nephew is working out with one. In this piece I feel I exhibit the skills needed to observe and document the surrounding and the people within them. I really enjoyed this assignment. Watching the kids training and listening to their lingo, all while taking notes made me feel  like a writer for the first time.

My third and final piece is “Should the NHL ban fighting in hockey?” I love to watch professional hockey and I am concerned that the National Hockey League (NHL) is considering to remove fighting from the game. I feel I made a strong argument with plenty of facts supporting that fighting belongs in the game.  I found this essay to be far more time consuming than the others. It required a lot of reading and research. I must have poured through fifteen articles to find the ones that suited my point of view. I feel confident I can research, organize and cite other author’s work for the purpose of supporting my thesis.

When I first started the course I don’t think I could have compose a literate paragraph. My first essay was riddled with sentence fragments, run-on sentences and punctuation mistakes. With the help of my instructor, I feel I have improved greatly. Although I still have a long way to go, I am much more confident when it comes to writing. I believe what I have learned will help me to succeed in future academic courses, and in life. I would like to thank you for taking the time to read my essays. I hope you can find some entertainment value in them.

Sincerely,

Richard Brow

 

 

 

I can remember it as if it were yesterday. I was 8 years old, and my mother had just signed me up for Summer Little League.  I had just received my first baseball glove for Christmas, and I had only used it once. The first practice was at Legion field in Bridgewater, Massachusetts. The field was located just behind the William Middle School, which was the school I was attending.  I was so excited, I couldn’t stop talking. I remember my mother telling me, “Calm down.” I can recall the smell of the fresh cut grass as I looked over the field. It looked huge, with bleachers to either side of home base. This was the first time I have ever been on a baseball field.  All the other kids were displaying the same enthusiasm that I was experiencing. Before the practice even started I made a new friend. His name was Bobby Brady who was a year older than me. I always remember him because of the TV character on the Brady Bunch.

          My coach’s name was Mr. Pacheco. He was a giant of a man, probably 6’4 250 to 275 pounds. He had wild blond curly hair, and crooked teeth. His hands were so big they were as large as my baseball glove. He had a very deep voice and at first yelled a lot, and it seemed mostly at me. I’m not ashamed to say I was petrified of him.  As he would soon find out, I was not a very good athlete. I was under sized for my age group, weighed 50 pounds soaking wet, with spaghetti strands for arms and two pencils for legs.  My main problem was that I was afraid of the ball. A few days before the first practice, I had a few mishaps tossing the ball with my father. The ball hit me in the face striking my bottom lip. It left me with a cut and swollen mouth for a day or two. I believe this is where my fear originated. Since that day, where ever the ball was going. I was running the other way. During the first game, I warmed the bench for the first four innings. In the fifth inning, coach put me in to bat. I could hear in the background the cheers of my mother, and the coach yelling, “Stand in there, and hang tough.” I have never been so scared in my life. My knees were trembling and I had that nervous sour feeling in my stomach. I thought I was going to throw up. I stepped into the batter’s box and look at the pitcher. He looked like he was at least ten years old. He was much taller and broader than I. He pitched so fast that I jumped out of the batter’s box every time. It seemed like the ball was whizzing by my head every time, and I was called out on strikes. I headed back to the dugout with my head hanging low. I could hear my teammates laughing and making jokes about me as I entered. I was feeling pretty low. On the way home that evening, my mother asked me why I was so afraid of the ball. I told her, “I didn’t know, I just am”. She tried to tell me in the best way she could. “You know it’s a little embarrassing to see you jump out of the way of the ball all the time. It makes you look like a baby.” At first I didn’t say anything. I sat there and stared. Then after a few minutes. I told her I was sorry and I would try to do better. I was really thinking that she should stand there and let someone throw a ball right at her head, and then let’s see how she feels.

Two days later we had a practice in the morning, before the game that evening. Coach Pacheco told me to put on the catchers equipment. I told him I had never played at that position. He replied, “All you have to do is catch the ball, now put the gear on.” I didn’t want to, but I really didn’t have a choice. The equipment was heavy. The chest protector was a little big, and was cutting into my sides when I moved my arms. The helmet and face protector were also heavy and made it harder to see. I put on the glove and it felt loose on my hand, and I was also starting to perspire. The glove was much heavier than I was used to. Although I was more concerned with being hit by the ball, or worse the bat. The ball always appeared to be coming right at my head. But to my amazement it wasn’t that bad. The first pitch knocked the glove right off my hand. I could hear a couple of my teammate’s chuckle. I put the glove back on. This time twisting my fingers in tighter. The pitcher threw the ball and I caught it, I saw it all the way into the glove. I was starting to feel more comfortable and confident.  And then a few pitches later, my greatest fear. I was struck by a foul tip. It grazed the bat and caught me square on my right shoulder. It stung me hard at first. A stinging from my shoulder to my chest. I shook it off, and the coach asked, “You ok!” I replied, “I’m good Coach.” Next pitch was a fast ball in the dirt, and directly into my stomach. I heard the coach say, “Good block.” I wasn’t trying to block anything. It just hit me, and I realized that it didn’t hurt. It just felt like something bumped me. I felt like I was getting the hang of this. Coach yelled to me from the bench, “The balls not as scary anymore is it?” I replied “No sir.” Though I wasn’t as confident as he was. Next was batting practice. I was standing there waiting for my turn. Coach turned to me and said, “You played better today.” In my shy way, I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Thanks, coach.”  I thought to myself, he was right, I did play better today.  When I got up to bat, I didn’t hit the ball, but I also didn’t jump out of the batter’s box. I kept my eyes open and even took a few swings at the ball.

That night the sun was just starting to go down. It was warm with a light breeze. The aroma of hamburgers and french-fries was making me feel hungry. Like before I was warming the bench. It was the top of the fourth inning and the score was 3-2. The opposing team had the lead. We had runners on 2^nd and 3^rd base. I heard the coach yell out, “Brow, get your helmet on, you’re on deck.” I went and got a helmet. I was standing in the on deck circle. My hunger quickly changed to butterflies. Bobby was batting and, he struck out on 5 pitches. It made me feel better that he struck out. That way when I did, I wouldn’t feel so humiliated. Next thing I heard was the umpire saying, “Batter up.” I stepped into the box, my knees were once again trembling. The first pitch screamed right over my head, ball one. This kid was throwing heat. Second pitch also right over my head, ball two. I could hear in the background the other coach telling the pitcher to slow down and just throw the ball over the plate.  My mother was screaming, “Come on Richie!” I took a step back out of the box. Coach Pacheco told me, “Stand in there, if it looks good swing.” I could hear my mother and my teammates cheering me on. I think it was at that exact moment that I realized that I wasn’t afraid anymore. That I had nothing to fear.  The butterflies were gone, and my mind seemed quieter.  With the bat on my shoulder, I choked up on it. Adjusting my hands, and tightening my grip. I stared toward the pitcher, watching him fidget with the ball. He looked annoyed that he threw away the first two pitches. He went into his starting position and threw the ball. It was much slower, and for the first time I could see the ball. I didn’t swing the bat that hard, but I hit it right on the sweet spot. I ripped it between first and second base. I was in such shock, I didn’t even run at first.  All the parents and my teammate were cheering, but one voice drowned them out. The only one I could hear was my mother. “Run Richie run! You did it! You did it!” The ball rolled all the way to the corner of right field. I was running as fast as I could. It felt like I was in quick sand, and I almost fell down rounding first base. I made it to second safely, and scored two runs. I looked over at my mother. She was on the sideline by first base, and she look so delighted jumping and clapping. Seeing her so proud of me, the tears just started flowing. I had no control over them. You know when you’re so emotional you can’t catch your breath, you just keep gasping for air. It was a little like that. I could not believe I did it, I got a hit, and a double as a matter of fact. I didn’t have to stay out there for long, the next batter struck out. I dried my eyes and trotted back to the dugout with my head held high. The whole team was there to congratulate me. It was high fives and pats on the back. We went on to win the game. It was a great day. A day that built up my confidence and changed how I faced my fears. I learned that you can’t run away from the things that frighten you, no matter what happens. I just have to get up, shake off the dust, and continue on.

Coach Pacheco no longer appeared so frightening to me. He was really just a big teddy bear, all bark with no bite.  I wonder if Coach Pacheco knew what a wonderful thing he did for me that day. He taught me to face my fears, and take the hit when you know its coming. To leap without looking, and to believe in myself. I will forever be in his debt. Since that day I have never feared doing something new, or shied away from anything I was afraid of.  It has help me to cope with one of my most recent fears, returning to school after 30 years. Without even knowing, he had given me a gift. A lesson that lasted a lifetime.

 

 

       I replied, “Personal trainer, he’s only 12 years old”!  My brother went on to tell me that my nephew Kyle has been working out with a personal trainer for the last two years. Beginning in January and ending in April, to help sharpen his skills playing football and baseball. His sessions are once a week for an hour and a half. I voiced to my brother that I would love to see Kyle in action during one of these session. So I asked him if I could accompany him to the next one. He told me that Kyles next session was Friday at four pm, and I could meet them there.

       The name of the establishment Kyle is training at is Evolution Sports Performance, located in Easton, MA. Their goal is to help athletes of all ages and genders to strive to be their best, not only in sports but in life. I found in their brochure that their methodology is designed to achieve three goals; to improve athletic performance, avoid injury, and build self- esteem. They train athletes from the ages of eight to twenty one plus. The brochure also stated the trainers had collective degrees in Physiology/Kinesiology, USA Weightlifting Certified, US Track and Field Level 1 Sprint, and CPR/First Aid/ AED Certified.

       When I arrived, I found myself standing in front of a newly constructed, large blue metal building. I entered into the reception area. The first thing that caught my eye was about thirty pictures of young adults who had trained there. There were images of young men and women playing sports for some of the most prestigious colleges in United States. To the left was a lounge area for parents to kick back and relax while they waited for their children. There were two large screen televisions, and a large leather sofa. It was dimly illuminated, and had a warm and cozy feeling to it. To the right of reception area was offices, shower rooms, and another large room for adult fitness. It was filled with martial arts equipment.  If someone wanted to watch the training session, there was another area with bar style tables and chairs constructed of stainless steel. The glass walls gave you a complete view of the training area. The training field was green Astroturf carpet, it measured about sixty feet by ninety feet, and was marked off in five yard increments, like a football field. It was brightly illuminated, with a ceiling height of about twenty feet, and felt like an open space. Along the right side of the field was weight lifting equipment that ran the entire length of the building. The facility was climate and humidity controlled. I looked at the thermostat on the wall, it was sixty five degrees, and I could sense the atmosphere was more humid than the air outside.

       Kyle was training with a group of eight children, twelve to fourteen years old. I expected their attire to consist of tee-shirts, shorts and sneakers. To my surprise, most of the kids were wearing Under Armor and Nike snug fitting tops and bottoms, and cross trainers or turf shoes for footwear. The trainers called the children by their first names, and the kids called the trainers coach. The kids called each other by their nick names. Some examples are Chewy, Sully, Browse, and Burgee.

       The session starts with about ten minutes of kinetic stretching. In the standing and seated positions, the kids would stretch their arms, legs, back, and neck. Stretching out all their muscles from head to toe. Followed by ten minutes of dynamic stretching, which are warm up drills. Dynamic stretching uses speed of movement and momentum to stretch the muscles. The kids were running forward and backward and moving side to side, crossing one leg over the other. Then they would jump rope while running. After warming up they started doing speed drills. Sprinting from line to line, and running while maneuvering between orange cones, moving forward and then backward. Running laterally, forward and back while catching a medicine ball. They also would have the kids hooked up to a harness. It was attached to a bungee cord. The trainer would have the child sprint thirty yards and have him stop on a line. The trainer would run along with the child keeping tension on the cord the entire time. I believe this drill was to teach the kids to control their forward momentum and teach them to stop on a dime. All of these drills worked on speed development, agility, coordination, and balance. These activities lasted for about forty minutes. Then they would complete their training with about thirty minutes of total body weight training. They would break off in groups of two, each starting at a different work out station. They were preforming Squats, bench press, power cleans, and push press. It appeared only the thirteen and fourteen year old kids were using free weights, barbells and dumbbells. The children Kyles age were using work out straps. Which is bungee cord with handles on both ends. They would mimic the same movements the older kids were doing with free weights. When executing the bench press movement, they would lie flat on a bench, and lower the barbell to their chest, and then return it to its original position. Squats are just how they sound. With a barbell on their shoulders, from a standing position you move to a sitting position, and then return. The push press is performed with a barbell on the floor, then lifting it to their chest and pressing it over their head. Power cleans were performed by holding a barbell with their arms straight down by their side. They would then flip it up to their chest and return to the starting position. They would perform eight to ten repetitions, three times each for every exercise. The children always using weight that was appropriate for the individual child.  The trainers monitored the children closely, to assure they were using the proper form and weight.

       One of the observations that I found most surprising was the discipline and focus of all the children participating. There was no joking or fooling around, it was all business. When a trainer would criticize a child, he wouldn’t put their head down and pout like some children would. They keep their head high, and nod to the trainer. “Ok coach.” They never talked back or said I can’t do it. They train with the determination to do better each time they perform a drill. All the children were working hard, sweating and panting, the kids were encouraged by the trainers to take lots of water.

        There was one child that stood out among the group. He was wearing Under-Armor snug fit top and spandex bottoms, with Nike turf shoes for footwear. His name was Shaun, aka Chewy. The kids call him Chewy, after the character “Chewbacca in Star Wars” I asked my brother why they make that similarity? He replied. “Just look at him, he’s a foot taller than the others, with thick brown hair. “Laughing, he said, “He probably started shaving when he was eleven.” Shaun is thirteen years old, five foot ten inches, and about one hundred and seventy pounds. He was stronger and faster than any other kid there. Maybe even faster than the trainers. He had explosive speed, and great eye- hand coordination. He was the exact definition of a young athlete. His performance was so impressive that I thought to myself, I would be hearing this kids name in the future.

        Near the conclusion of the training session, the trainers would call all the children together. They would tell each child what he did well, and where he needed improvement. The trainers then praised all the kids for a good training session and said their good byes.

       At the close, I got a minute to talk with Kyle and two of his friends, Matt aka Sully and Tommy aka Burgee. I expressed to them how impressed I was with their performance. I asked them why they do it, and what they hope to get out of the training sessions. They replied collectively, each contributing to the answer. They told me though they all dream of one day playing professional sports. Their main goal is to have the opportunity to attend the college of their choice. And to be the best that they can be, in the sports that they participate in. They are taught their natural skills will only take them so far. If they want to be the best and have an edge over others, they have to constantly sharpen their skills.

       My nephew Kyle is five foot three inches tall, and about one hundred pounds, with blond hair and blue eyes. I have witnessed him play third base in baseball, and corner back and half back in football. He’s truly a gifted athlete for his age. He told me his greatest wish is to play college football. I asked him if there was one school he wanted to attend more than others. He replied “As long as it a Big time football school, and is located in Miami, Texas, or California, I don’t care.” I replied, “Keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll have a good chance getting there.”

       When I think of a personal trainer, I think of professional athlete or movie star. I would never think of young kids. After seeing it with my own eyes, I can see why each decade, athletes continue to get stronger and faster, and break new records. I was very impressed with the facility, trainers and the athletes.

 On my way out the door, I had a quick conversation with the receptionist. She was a very sweet lady and made a statement that stuck with me. She said “If you teach a child at a young age to respect their bodies, they are less likely to abuse them when they get older.”

        I found these kids to be in a class of their own. They are polite, mature, focused, and confident. They know what they want, and have the self-discipline, will, and determination to go get it. In my opinion there already Superstars.

      As concussions in professional sports seems to be under a microscope, one issue that seems to be getting increased attention is fighting in the National Hockey League. (NHL) Those most concerned with the sport are asking the question: Should the NHL ban fighting to decrease concussion injuries? I’ve been a hockey fan for 42 years, and have always felt that fighting was a way for the players to police their own game, and reduce cheap dirty play.

      In 2012 NHL players were polled, and asked if there was a place for fighting in the game. Their overwhelming response was that 95% of players believed fighting was a necessary part of the game (Gormley). Washington Capitals Captain Alex Ovechkin grew up playing in European leagues, where fighting is not allowed. Ovechkin was asked if fighting belonged in hockey,and he replied “One hundred percent” (qtd. In Gormley). Ovechkin went on to say if there was no fighting, goons would go after the best players inflicting cheap shots that could result in injury. This would please them because there would be no one to fight them for retribution (Gormley). Capitals winger Brooks Laich also weighed in saying “I think you might be trying to solve one problem, but you’re creating five others” (qtd. In Gormley). Laich also said there would be more cheap shots and stick work and that the star players would feel the greatest of the abuse (Gormley).

     Jerome Igilna, forward for the Boston Bruins feels many fans believe fighting in hockey is for entertainment. Although it can seem as a spectacle for fans, players don’t see themselves as boxers. The purpose of a fight is to stick up for yourself or a teammate after a dirty play.  Fighting holds players accountable for their actions more than just a penalty. If fighting were taken out of hockey there would be much more stick work like slashing to the wrist and ankles and spearing to soft areas between the players pads. Fighting gives the players the ability to hold each other accountable for their actions, and for players who cross the line will have to answer for it (Iginla).

      Legendary Hall of Famer Bobby Orr, author of “There is a place for fighting in hockey,” reinforces what Iginla, Ovechkin and Laich sense would happen if fighting was removed from hockey. Orr characterizes fighting as a tool to diminish dirty play. Professional hockey is a hard hitting and fast moving sport that at times can be frustrating. Orr would much rather face an opponent face to face, instead of having a stick slashing across his wrist or ankles. Orr feels the most egregious infractions are being speared to the unprotected parts of the body, hitting from behind and targeting the head. These infractions can lead to far more serious injury compared to those found in fighting.  In many cases, certain players would go after a player just because they could. This is where an enforcer gets involved. An enforcer is a teammate whose job is to protect the younger and smaller players from the bullies stalking the ice. Certain players are on the ice for the sole purpose of creating havoc and disrupting the flow of the game. They do their best to get under the skin of the more skilled players. It’s the enforces job to challenge them and get them off the ice (Orr).

      Critics of fighting believe the act is harmful and needless, particularly when it comes to player safety and the increased awareness of concussion injuries (Iginla). They believe it is an unacceptable risk of getting an injury when one player strikes another with his fist, and experts are questioning whether the practice should be abolished (Hartell).

      Dr. David Milzman, professor at Georgetown and Washington Hospital Center, and Medical Doctor for the Washington Capitals, took a special interest in head trauma. Dr. Milzman using slow motion video studied 710 fights in 1,239 games. He recorded only 17 injuries during these games at a rate of 1.2% (Stinson). He found that it all came down to physics. To forcibly strike the skull with enough force to injure, you need to plant your front foot for leverage (Stinson). Players on skates are constantly moving back and forth and pulling on each other making it very difficult to deliver a punishing blow (Stinson). Dr. Milzman concluded “The fights aren’t causing the concussions, I can say that without a doubt” (qdt. In Stinson).

      Professional hockey is fast moving and hard hitting sport. Because it moves so fast the officials tend to pay more attention to the players closest to the puck. By no fault of their own, they can miss dirty infractions outside of their vision, and the players inflicting the infraction know it (Orr). If fighting was removed from the game these type of players would be able to continue to commit cheap shots without immediate repercussion. Many close to the game feel for this reason fighting can reduce violence on the ice (Hartell). If a player knows he will be challenge for a particular transgression, he will be less likely to commit it in the first place (Hartell).

     Hockey has always been a passion of mine. From my youth through adulthood, I’ve never lost the fever for the game. I think it is one of the most exciting sports to play and watch. I have to admit that I enjoy fighting in the game. Not only because of the entertainment value, but I believe it is an important tool to keep the game safer and maintain the integrity of the game. We should listen to the players when they say fighting has a place in the game. If the NHL is looking to decrease the amount of head injuries, they should create stricter penalties for players who habitually target the head, and continue to allow the players to police the game that so many love.

Works Cited

Gormley, Chuck. “How Would the NHL Look without Fighting?” Comcast SportsNet Washington. CNS Washington.com, 18 Nov. 2013. Web. 29 Apr. 2014.

Hattell, Seb. “Fighting in the NHL.” Sports Med BC.com. Sports Med BC.com, n.d. Web. 29 Apr. 2014.

Iginla, Jarome. “Jarome Iginla: Hockey Is Better, Safer with Fighting in It | SI.com.” SI.com. SI.com, 15 Nov. 2013. Web. 29 Apr. 2014.

Orr, Bobby. “There Is a Place for Fighting in Hockey: Bobby Orr.” The Globe and Mail. The Globe and Mail. Com, 12 Oct. 2013. Web. 19 Apr. 2014

Stinson, Scott. “Brawls ‘aren’t Causing’ Head Trauma: Doctor.” National Post Sports Brawls Arent Causing Head Traumadoctor Comments. N.p., 21 Oct. 2011. Web. 29 Apr. 2014.