Some Mood for Thought

Column Like I See 'Em: The Things We Now Know

This week proved to be one of, if not the most challenging in my one-and-a-half year tenure as a columnist for the Orient; at least in terms of deliberating what to write about. The difficulty of my situation, however, lay not within the confines of a slow news week, but rather a week that brought with it too many storylines worth further exploration: The resurgence of exciting hockey, the Eastern Conference NBA Playoffs unfolding better than we ever might have imagined, the NFL Draft set to kickoff tomorrow afternoon, and how the D'Backs have become the best team in baseball, to name a few.

Column Like I See 'Em: The Only Thing Better Than a Skype Date

So here I am. Aqu¡ estoy. In Spain for an entire semester combating culture shock, the seven-hour waiting period between meals, and a severe dearth of American sports. I have discovered rather quickly, though, that there are few things more rewarding in life than my post-lunch siesta every day, serving as my chief panacea here in Granada, the beautiful, Islamic-influenced Andalusian city that was once inhabited by the Moors...or was it the Moops? All that aside, I have still managed to keep pace somewhat with baseball's pennant races and football's introductory couple of weeks, and I've got to be honest: I still think the Yankees will make the playoffs and the Jets go undefeated.

Column Like I See 'Em

This piece represents the opinion of the author:

Chris Adams-Wall

Columnist

May 2, 2008

Dear readers,

As I type these letters onto the screen of my laptop with each of my index fingers and nothing more hitting each key, my feelings towards the world of professional sports are mixed: while the Rangers struggle haplessly against the mighty Penguins and the Yankees continue to send their best and brightest to the disabled list, Isiah Thomas is no longer a part of my life (although Larry Brown is again...kind of. Have fun Bobcats), and this Gholston fellow the Jets drafted last weekend is supposedly a fantastic defender, who can also apparently throw the ball farther than 20 yards (10 more than veteran quarterback Chad Pennington, as it is).

But all in all, I'd like to think that things are looking upwards?the Hawks have actually made it a series against the Celtics, the Diamondbacks and Kosuke Fukodome are ripping up the National League just like I thought they might, and Roger Clemens...well...he really doesn't have any place to go but up (in all seriousness though, I really do feel for the guy).

But most importantly, Chelsea FC advanced to their first UEFA Champions League Final in team history in a 3-2 win (4-3 aggregate) over rivals Liverpool at Stamford Bridge on Wednesday; John Terry and company will play Manchester United in Moscow for the championship and European supremacy on May 21 in the first all-England final in history.

In this last article of the year, before I head to Granada, Spain next fall (where I may or may not continue writing weekly for the Orient), I've decided to end with soccer ("Oh no, not again," you're all thinking): the sport that has not only been one of the chief mediums through which my sophomore year has been defined, but also the sport that has transformed my life as a sports fan.

The main reason why I started both playing and watching soccer last year, was because I really enjoyed doing both of them. Soccer was something new, something foreign, something intriguing.

I was curious and explored the sport more and more through the months, reading books, magazines, and articles to learn as much as I could about the world's game. When I thought that I had enough information I chose a team to root for based on the knowledge I had acquired, as well as pure instinct, which led me to Chelsea: the Yankees of the English Premiership?at least from a financial standpoint.

From there, I followed the Blues' every move from August up until now. At first refreshing ESPN.com's Gamecast every five seconds for each game, I finally discovered during winter break how to actually watch live games online.

Gradually, Didier Drogba, Frank Lampard, Michael Essien, and Petr Cech were just a few of the players that became almost like my friends?like the characters on a TV show that you watch incessantly?and all of whom I was absolutely mesmerized by.

And somehow, by watching match after match after match (sometimes those not even involving Chelsea) a mystical spell was cast over me, and soccer became my favorite sport (which makes me antipatriotic to some people in this country).

I watch soccer because it makes me happy. I cannot even begin to describe one iota of the sheer thrill I feel when somebody tries a long-range shot, a set piece, a scintillating run from one eighteen to the next, a penalty kick, masterful dribbling, miraculous saves, the thunderous cheers of the home crowd, flawless slidetackling, and of course, whenever Chelsea scores and manager Avram Grant bends over while sitting to scream at the ground as if someone had just stabbed him in the buttocks. I love this game. I love it because I'm happy when I watch it.

It's not that the other four major sports that have taken up so much of my time over the last 20 years have faded away, for today, I am still an avid New York sports fan, and plan on being one until the day I die.

It is just that I have found so much joy while in the arena of a fifth sport?the other football; the minority?that it has almost taken precedence over the remaining four powerhouses.

I realize that it could possibly be a fad. I mean, maybe if I had not been a baseball fan until I was 19, then learned about it and followed it, I would be feeling the same way about America's pastime. But I hope it isn't just a temporary obsession. I hope it lasts. I hope it lasts a long time.

I had what was probably the most meaningful conversation I've had at this school with one of my friends last week.

It was one of those great life chats, where you empty everything you've got on the table, while the other person picks up and examines each issue, then gives you advice, while you explain to that person what you think each one means, bouncing ideas off of each other while time dwindles away, waiting impatiently for an epiphany that might not even come. It came.

It sounds cliché. And I know that saying it sounds cliché, sounds cliché. But the magic words were, "Just do what makes you happy, man." Wow. Yes. Of course. Just do what makes you happy, man. Suddenly it was all pretty clear. If you're not happy about something, then why would you continue to do it? No one should ever have to go through that.

Take a moment now and think of all the things you do that make you happy. Go ahead. Really do it. Don't read any further until you've done so (this might actually take a really long time)...OK, good.

Now take another moment to think about the things you do that make you unhappy (this hopefully won't take as long as the first one), and think about why you do these things.

The easy solution here is simple: Just don't do these things anymore. Yet there is the other side of the sword to take into account as well; the side that shows that it will be more difficult to cease some of these things compared to others.

But you know what? It's certainly worth trying. After all, isn't happiness what we all strive for?

In addition to writing this weekly column, hanging out with friends, eating fried chicken burgers, making TV shows, and watching sports (especially soccer) are just a few of the things that I do repetitively that make me happy.

And I don't plan on stopping until they make me unhappy, at which point I'll find something better to take their place. Maybe curling. Who knows? I hope that this article does not make me sound like Dr. Phil, because that was not my intention. Yes, the message is clear. And yes, I know that you all probably already knew this. I just really thought that it needed to be reiterated... Man, I'm unhappy with that conclusion.

Thank you all for reading my columns this year, for without you, I would not even be able to write them. And if my column is not resurrected from my perch in Spain next fall, I'll see you all again next spring. I wish you all the best today, tomorrow, through the summer, and obviously, happiness. We'll see you next year.

All the best,

Chris Adams-Wall

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