Why Fishing Isn't Fun and Other Social Trends

A necessary element of blog writing is brevity. So as inspiration presses me to articulate recent ruminations, I struggle with length and also whether it should be a series or stand alone. The prep for this post has been difficult because it should be two separate articles but the ideas are connected in the tea leaves of societal trends.

There is a war brewing inside competitive fishing right now. As with any meaningful competition, there is always tension and testosterone fueled, toothpaste out of the tube moments of hyperbole and regret. And there has always been generational suspicion and back biting in everything from golf to NASCAR.

But with the unfortunate help of social media (comments of the crazies), the bickering over FFS (forward facing sonar) technologies and whether it should be utilized in fishing competition is more than heating up.

I am somewhat shielded from this because I don't even pretend to be a competitive angler. Fishing is fun for me- a release. But more and more, I find my friends bent out of shape to the point that I'm finding fewer and fewer folks happy to just fish and find blessings of sun, water, sky, and the joy of finding a fight with these elusive game fish hiding in cover; infused with a God-given ability to resist the temptation of a pulsating jig right or twitching jerk bait at their nose.

Is there anyone left that just likes to fish? Can we be happy for guys who did their work, caught that big bag, and likely will be humbled the next time out? Can we all agree that the difficult part of competitive fishing is that it takes the cooperation of the aquatic creature who may not be in the mood to oblige us that day?

At the end of almost every tournament at all levels these days I find more whiners than winners. Because of human nature and the large isolation of the arena, it is a sport that is prone for cheating.... but find me a tournament where the winner isn't accused of impropriety and I'll likely think it took place on Mars. Can't we just shake hands and try again tomorrow? Do you have to hold your club's trophy to be validated as a man?

So for brevity sake- what about technology? How much is allowed and should any of it be banned? In fishing there are a number of rules on help, advice, etc that can get complicated and can even be harder to prove guilt or innocence. There are probably more polygraph tests used after fishing tournaments than in murder cases. And again, there are cheaters... and those proven to cheat should understand that it comes with a very high penalty. I'm all for punishing those folks, but I don't support blackballing people based on the intensity of unproven accusations either.

Thought this was funny in the debate

 FFS- is it a bridge too far? 

 

There have been a lot of people weighing in on the subject.

Let's think about it...shall we?

My best friend in fishing is Jeff Davis. Jeff grew up at Lake Logan Martin and that has been basically his home lake for decades. He has fished tournaments, and knows just about every knot and crevice of that very pressured reservoir on the Coosa chain near Birmingham.

Jeff remembers the first time he got a depth finder on a boat. Before then, they would use their concrete bucket anchors to drift around until it ran aground of a high spot in the middle of the lake. Jeff was an offshore angler before the offshore was cool. He remembers when there was a Texaco sign at the Texaco hump in Cropwell- a community stop by most anglers when the bite is on.

What I admire about fishing with Jeff is his imagination. He has all the latest in electronics. All the graphs did was show him WHY all those waypoints were good back in the day. The close together contour lines were already in his mind before he ever saw them in color on a graph.

But when Jeff is casting, he is already well acquainted with what is underneath him- he 'sees' the ditch, and the point, and the notch, and the chunk rock. All his lure does is confirm what he already expects. 

And because of that, he knows to anticipate the bite- it keeps a positive expectation in his fishing. He isn't just casting, he is truly fishing. He knows what the lure is doing and before long, he knows what the bass need to finally bite what he is serving them.

I'm just throwing out and retrieving, 

I still think there will always be a separation to those who have talent and those who don't. Fishing talent is part instinct and a lot of hours of very hard work. 

But the technology is not going away. There is too much money at stake. As long as people will stretch their credit to purchase the stuff, they will keep making it and selling it. 

It may not be sexy to see guys staring at graphs and playing video games, but what produces big fish will be used.

The catch-22 is that it may not really be producing great anglers. That is what time will tell.

All competition requires adaptation. The only immutable entity is God, everything else must adapt or die.

Again, I am somewhat immune from a lot of this. I don't have the time or money to use the latest and greatest. I'm happy fishing even if I am not catching. But I also am THANKFUL for side imaging, spot lock trolling motors, and power poles. Is it a crime to use things to help me find what I am searching for?

There are limits of course....

 I wouldn't be happy to send a robot out to swim down and bring me back a fish- unless I needed it to eat of course.

To the older generation- don't whine. Either use the stuff or be happy with your way. It doesn't matter but the technology isn't going away unless we all become communists.

To the younger generation- be careful and learn from the past. Don't be so tech obsessed that you never learn how to truly fish. Know the 'whys' and still use your imagination when fishing. Instead of staring at the graph AFTER the cast, why don't you learn to work the lure and study the line and rod tip? You are frustrated that he isn't eating because you aren't fishing, you are just playing a video game.

But can't we just learn to have fun again?

OK- that is the fishing part- feel free to stop reading here- but here is the cultural implication:

I am worried about the mood of our society and what we are leaving behind.

I recently took note of some things I am seeing and hearing regarding our becoming unlinked or maybe un-moored is a better term from foundations of the past.

I know of a situation where an athletics director was advocating for a person to be hired for a coaching job. One of the winning qualifications for that person in the AD's mind was 'longevity' and 'loyalty' to the school. That coach had been in place there for over 15 years.

That AD was surprised to find that a lot of the committee members he was working with counted longevity very low on their list of qualifications, even considered it a detriment.

The conversation was something like this: "We could care less (about whether this person has been around). That is all in the past. This current generation has little use of anything from the by-gone years. We have to be forward facing and not chained to the status quo of yesterday".

Is this a generational divide? There are some nuances here to be sure but I took that situation and compared to a recent political discussion I observed.

It was mentioned in this discussion that there is a growing sentiment among some younger voters that our founding documents (Declaration of Independence, Federalist Papers, the Constitution) are 'out of date' and no longer relevant to the challenges of current society.

This terrified me, but I noticed that it didn't even raise an eyebrow of many who were watching the debate.

How is this related to the fishing debate at the beginning of this post?

How can we glean value from history and still remain relevant to the future?

To me, you have to allow past experiences to govern the direction of the forward movement. History is a rudder that allows someone to grow without crashing over the cliff or hitting a target off course. Virtue and memories prevent mistakes and regret.

A generation that jettisons the past will repeat the same mistakes. Throw out the old documents? Doesn't that infer the greatest founding document we call the Bible?

Times change and we are prone to amnesia:

Exodus 1:8
Now there arose a new king over Egypt, who did not know Joseph. 

We need to be careful!

I want to close with a short portion of the poem, Mending Wall by Robert Frost

The narrative is that two neighbors meet each spring to mend a rock wall between their properties. The applications are deep and powerful to our discussion here:

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,

No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.

We keep the wall between us as we go.

To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:

‘Stay where you are until our backs are turned!’

We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,

One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:

He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’

Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:

‘Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it

Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.

Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

If you had the patience and time to read this- thank you for my rambling.

My prayer is that we learn to cross the divide and find charity and unity.

We need to honor the past- learn from it- but not be chained to it.

We need the moorings attached to keep us on a good path, but the leash needs to be loose enough for great creativity and growth.

The fundamentals do not change. We need to love people and use things instead of loving things and using people.

We never want to be cut loose from God, for in Him we find freedom and foundations.

Let's find some joy and fun in the process. 

I'm headed out fishing now......

(Still) Picking Them Up and Putting Them Down

This post is a re-synthesis of some theoretical notions I had as a younger man and wanted to tweak them after a few more miles of tread.

How do we keep going? How do we end well?

The burnout rate of our current culture is wearing out even the best of men.

There is a character in literature that we sometimes call 'The Hemingway Hero'. Based on some of Hemingway's characters and inspired by his life- the Hemingway hero is the man who just endures for the sake of enduring.

The Hemingway hero keeps pushing without virtue- there is nothing noble he strives for or believes in... he just does it. And in this tough consistency finds endurance for its own sake.

Hemingway wasn't the first one to capture this. Existentialists like Sartre and Camus built an entire philosophy on the benefits of perseverance and drive. No one can deny the power of 'contra mundum'- the fight against the grain.

Camus captured some of this in his famous essay, "The Myth of Sisyphus", using the greek fable to capture the man who continued to defy the gods and pushing that rock over and over again.

He ends the essay by stating:

I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night-filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

As good as this sounds at the base level- and as much as this toughness is admirable (and rare) it fails to close the deal in terms of 'the abundant life'.

In fact, the final results of these views is the loss of happiness and hope. The grind of reality tends to make all men morbid and miserable. It is hard to enter the final stages of life with vigor, excitement, renewal, and energy. But do we HAVE TO end up that way?

I have always been saddened with how Hemingway ended his life. The irony is found in his short story, Indian Camp, published in in 1924. In this story, Hemingway captured the sadness of suicide through a young child, Nick, as he asks his dad, a doctor,  about the tragedy that had just taken place.

   "Why did he kill himself, Daddy?"

    "I don't know, Nick. He couldn't stand things, I guess."

  "Do many men kill themselves, Daddy?"

    "Not very many, Nick."

Years later, Hemingway.. wealthy...famous..world traveler... adventurer... called his mom... he was desperate and depressed. He didn't think that life was still worth living.

"What do I do mom?"

"Why don't you just do what your dad did (committed suicide)."

And Hemingway took his favorite shotgun and ended his life.

Sisyphis, Camus, the Hemingway hero, Sartre... may have found power in the fight.. but in the end, the tragedy remains.


Is there another way?


I firmly believe there is! And one of my life's ambitions is to be found faithful to the pursuit.


I like to point out to football players that when I am watching film, I want to find unbelievable effort.

 Sometimes I say it like this... I want our next week's opponents to watch this film and say, "Look at the number ##- he has unbelievable effort!"

Can I live the same way? Is there an opportunity to continue in life, even as we age, to find passion and zeal for living?


Not only is this a noble pursuit... I believe it is one that pleases the Lord AND shines a bright light for Him!


I have broken it down into H words:

AN HONEST EVALUATION: Before I know where I need to go, I need to be honest and authentic about where I am. I have wasted so much of my life in pretense... trying to make myself look good. I heard someone say recently that executives at Google predicted that, in a decade (and that was 10 years ago!), people will desire to change their name to distant themselves because they will be ashamed of their past social media escapades. But why try to hide the past? How do you know if you are improving? It is no shame to admit where you have been.. they key is where are you going? And the most honest evaluation I can make is....there is nothing natural in me to live this way.


A HOLY HELPER: Once I admit to finding nothing in me to aid in my quest- it makes me open to the Helper..God's Holy Spirit, Who is a seal of our salvation and a resident helper in our desire to find a fire for living. One of the Spirit's manifestations is to bring to remembrance the things we have been taught and the things that Jesus said. It is the Spirit Who breathed the words into the prophets and apostles and it is the Spirit Who enlivens the Word in our lives. Part of the journey is to be sensitive to His leading and being careful to not grieve Him or quench Him.


HARD WORKING: There is no progress without a steady, disciplined commitment to work. God is a worker, and man is called to work. Work is not part of the curse... the pain, sweat, thorns, and toil of work is part of the curse. Work is productivity. The body needs it, the mind needs it, the spirit of man needs it. This is an area of great improvement for me over the last 20 years. I find it is best accomplished according to a big plan with daily tasks. Another key is to 'do it now'... don't procrastinate.


A HUMBLE HEART: This may be the biggest key of all. Humility begins with an understanding of 'I need help and I want to be ruled." There a basically two general heart dispositions...rigidity and pliability. The rigid heart is opposed to guidance and quick to rebel. It is full of pride and therefore sees no need to improve. The pliable heart yields easily to a master and follows his lead. That is why the Scripture says that God is opposed to the proud but gives grace to the humble (James 4:6).


A HUNGRY HEART: Humility is, in a sense, an emptying. And an empty heart is a yearning heart. If we see ourselves honestly and keep a spirit of humility and a daily work ethic...all of this will produce an eagerness to 'suck all the marrow out of life'. What if you approached every day with an excitement to learn, explore, and discover! The ones who seem too cool and casual think it is always 'been there...done that'. Life will soon ebb to a deadness if we keep that attitude.


HIGHER ASPIRATIONS: I once had a friend say, 'Aim for the stars... you may only hit the moon. But you hit the moon because you aimed high." I have long term goals that will carry me all the way to the end. Part 'bucket list' and part plain old heart desires... I have in mind what next steps look like. I am in no hurry... but I want a steady, marathon pace that reaches these milestones at the proper time.


HOPE: How can you live without hope? For the believer in Christ our end point goes beyond the end of life. I tell my football players to sprint 5 yards past the finish line.. don't ease up at the end. We need to do the same. I am running one more step past my last breath and heartbeat. And that step is into the arms of Jesus!

If you put all of these together, it could be summed up in one phrase.."STAYING CHILDLIKE".

This is what Chesterton noticed:

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”

― G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

MORE STICKS... BETTER FIRE

A few last points- we burn brighter when we burn together. A stick that is removed from a fire will smolder, smoke, and flame out. Fellowship with others stokes the flames. Surround yourself with people who will fuel your passion for Christ.

My prayer is that all of us burn brightly and revel in this life until the very end. It will inspire our children and my grandchildren to see us live with vigor and passion. Sure, there will be seasons of darkness and the blues. But we must never settle. We rage against the night and we find zeal for the Lord.

Maybe this seems naive and foolish- but I am going to keep excited in even the little things- I will keep getting up when knocked down- and I am rolling up my sleeves and attacking it...even if it is today.

REVVED UP BY REVELATION

In God's good providence, He has me teaching Sunday School this quarter out of the Book of Revelation. It's not my choice per se, because I have to really work and prepare more than usual each week. In Chapters 2 and 3 we have the famous Letter To The 7 Churches Section, and I have been strengthened by the call, the encouragement, and the promises given by Christ to overcome and persevere.

Here is a quick run through- these are the Words of the Exalted Christ!

He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who conquers I will grant to eat of the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God.’ (Revelation 2:7 ESV)

 He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, with a new name written on the stone that no one knows except the one who receives it.’ (Revelation 2:17 ESV)

 Only hold fast what you have until I come. [26] The one who conquers and who keeps my works until the end, to him I will give authority over the nations, [27] and he will rule them with a rod of iron, as when earthen pots are broken in pieces, even as I myself have received authority from my Father. [28] And I will give him the morning star. [29] He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.’ (Revelation 2:25–29 ESV)

 The one who conquers will be clothed thus in white garments, and I will never blot his name out of the book of life. I will confess his name before my Father and before his angels. [6] He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.’ (Revelation 3:5–6 ESV)

The one who conquers, I will grant him to sit with me on my throne, as I also conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne. [22] He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.’” (Revelation 3:21–22 ESV)

So, as my granny would say when we asked her how it was going, even into her 80's, she would smile and say, "Great! I'm just picking them up and putting them down" and every day, I get a little hint at what she meant by that... and ultimately it is a victory lap!

When Perfection Doesn't Fit- Where to Find Help

So, I think I'll find a long white line
Curse the world and leave it all behind
I been trying all this time
But still can't climb the mountains of my mind (Chris Stapleton)

There is a mental haunting to coaching that has to be monitored closely. In my 34 years in this business, I have worked with individuals who suffered both physical and mental decline under the pressure of competition. Because of the variables of alignments, formations, and movements; football coaching has a unique ability to imprison the mind.

This game has endless hours of film watching, drawing, and creates a thrill when these thought experiments produce results on the field. In my younger days as an offensive coordinator, my eyelids would flicker the movement of plays when I finally tried to get some sleep.

48 hours before a game, I would rehearse and replay endless scenarios of down and distance in certain areas of the field and would match the opponent's defense against those calls. At the same time, I developed an idea for a base plan and the changeups required to keep the other team off balance.

For a 'highly functioning introvert' like myself it is an escape and a madness all at the same time. It can be tough on a marriage and create issues with children who need attention and interaction.

I miss calling plays and I believe I was really good at it. But if I am honest, I am glad to NOT be doing that as well. 

I work with an excellent play caller now but ALL play callers are subject to disdain and ridicule. It hurts a lot when people attack play callers.... it usually comes with no understanding or respect for the energy and effort by those who are actually in the arena.

The most sinister complainers are those who 'know the game' - but never stop to realize what they DO NOT know. They don't know the personnel of each team as they cross match, they don't know the analysis of both teams previous games leading up to this game, they don't know how practice went, they don't know if a play is a set-up for another time, and usually the evaluation is a simple as a good call works and a bad call doesn't.

Those people never go away, so if you go into the business, it is simply the price you pay to make those calls. Over the years, I learned how to deal with it, but that part can be aggravating!

But this post is about how it can go DANGEROUSLY wrong- and I write this in hopes that someone reading this may be helped or help someone to avoid the most senseless tragedy of all.

There is a mental drive in football that can lead to difficult places. In our quest to be best, we can get close to a waterfall of tragedy.

I was made aware of this sad story many years ago by Bob Crandall, former BCS teachers, who knew Coach McDuffie personally.

On Feb. 16, 1996 Wayne McDuffie, age 52 was found dead at his home in Tallahassee, FL. He had shot himself- twice. No one ever really knows why people choose such an illogical and tragic route, but if we don't learn from these stories, we can't prevent them from happening again.

In a by-gone age before google, i-phones, and YouTube- these stories tend have short shelf lives and not a lot of lasting information.

A lot of coaches have a time where their name is hot. And in the 1980's Wayne McDuffie was the latest to receive accolades of his innovative and productive attack. He masterminded Florida State’s high-octane offense in those days. He was also a part of Georgia’s 1980 championship team, Vince Dooley’s offensive line coach. 

High school coaches flocked to his clinics where he spoke with intelligence and charisma -he was an intense man on and off the field. Coaches admired his toughness.

He fit the stereotype of the ranting and raving coach. His language was vulgar, and he worked his players so hard in practice that even other coaches winced. Of course, we don't mind if coaches, the leaders of young men, are flawed. Everything is excused so long as they produce excitement on the field.

McDuffie served as offensive coordinator at Florida State from 1983-89 and recruited Heisman Trophy-winner Charlie Ward during his tenure.

Georgia guard Jim Blakewood: “I can’t imagine there being a tougher coach. We felt like nobody in the league worked harder than we did. The teams we were getting ready to play couldn’t survive our practices. The games were a piece of cake.”

In Tales from the 1980 Georgia Bulldogs, Dooley discussed what a great coach McDuffie was and how he couldn’t turn off his intensity. They had to send him on recruiting trips Thursdays and Fridays. “The players would be so stressed out after Sunday through Wednesday with Wayne that they needed a few days to build their confidence back up.”

But hot names cool down... and Coach Wayne was no different. 

McDuffie's haunting to push perfection was taking its toll.

In 1994, McDuffie was wearing down.... “I really thought I wouldn’t survive this year. I’m so exhausted from trying to put pieces together that don’t fit,”  It was the end of another grueling season as offensive coordinator at UGA. “I’m trying to make something from nothing. I really thought I would die. I thought I would have a heart attack and die because I worked so hard.” The team had what was, for Wayne McDuffie, a disastrous season. The Bulldogs went 6-4-1.

While McDuffie conformed to our ideas of a football coach, he also was a church-going, highly-principled father of three. He wasn't the only one to see the contradiction, but nobody could view the conflict within.All the signs were there. The amusement-park mood swings, a strong, masculine veneer hiding a spirit as brittle as a cracker.

Fired by Georgia along with the rest of coach Ray Goff's staff, McDuffie told Florida State coaches he was a candidate to become offensive line coach with the Miami Dolphins.

Wayne jogged in his golf-course neighborhood, pushing himself hard. He lifted weights. And, with his wife, he wrestled with plans for the future. He hoped a professional team would come calling. He had feelers in with the Dolphins. But his birthday (December 1) and the holidays passed, as did the big bowl games, the pro playoffs and the Super Bowl, and Wayne McDuffie was still unemployed. He was 51 years old. The chart, the map, had led nowhere. Football was all McDuffie had known. His phone never rang.

What happens to men like McDuffie when they lose their jobs, as he did after last season at Georgia? Or when they're passed over for a job with the Miami Dolphins, as McDuffie learned he had been the afternoon of his death?

McDuffie had been fired only twice in his life. In his first coaching job ever, when Florida State was winless during the 1973 season under head coach Larry Jones. And then last year at Georgia.

He had grown tired of the politics surrounding college football and had reluctantly accepted the fact that he never would reach his lifelong goal of being a head coach.

In researching numerous articles regarding this sad story, I came across a lot of details that link to patterns that are familiar to us as these stories seem to be more common than we are comfortable to admit.

Toni McDuffie's best hypothesis is that it was a combination of stressful factors that aggravated his 20-year battle with manic depression. For most of their married lives, Wayne had used various medications to control his moods, which would rocket up and suddenly down. But nothing seemed to work.

Over the last few years, he had complained about never really being able to enjoy life. On a scale of 10, Toni said her husband had hovered around a 4.

Ever careful not to step over the personal boundaries Wayne had set, she never asked him about his medication or whether he was taking it properly. Anything else and maybe she could have interceded, but mental illness wasn't something he talked about.

It was almost as if he considered it a character flaw instead of a medical condition.

"I know Wayne could be depressed at times," a friend said. "He was moody in the sense that when things weren't going well, he didn't take it lightly."

I'm writing this particular blog to coaches who struggle with this. Looking back over my career, I see patterns here. And I recently had to revisit some of the same concepts as I face the reality of turning 60 this summer.

I want to reach out to  stern-faced individuals....elite competitors, who drive themselves because they believe they can squeeze perfection from an imperfect world and mercilessly drive themselves  and everyone in their sphere totally convinced that it is  all for a greater good.

Do you see Coach McDuffie in yourself? Do you know one that you are close enough to have the conversation?

I gathered a number of articles in my research, I wanted to include parts of this one in particular:

Those who knew him would never imagine Wayne McDuffie admitting anything resembling weakness. "I'm trying to make something from nothing. I really thought I would die. I thought I would have a heart attack and die because I worked so hard. I worried so much and tried so desperately to hold this thing together." 

His wife lived for those moments when her tough, chiseled husband would open himself up to her. When he would express some vulnerability. When she could help Wayne carry the weight accumulated through his carefully regimented climb from playing at Florida State and coaching for more than two decades, including two stints each at his alma mater, at the University of Georgia and even for the Atlanta Falcons.

Of course, Wayne would rise above his pain. She knew that was what he always did--that he had wrestled with manic depression for years and that with her help and the help of his medication, he could cope. He would always, always pick himself up--and never admit weakness to anyone but her. He would be back to being the Wayne McDuffie that she alone knew--someone far removed from the grim, oppressive, aloof, abrasive perfectionist so many others encountered. 

 She also knew that, as Wayne turned 50, he allowed most people to see him only as cold. Mean. Egotistical. Someone to be feared, someone who could be brutally sarcastic and humiliating.

But she alone knew that his mind was forever racing, analyzing, reviewing. That there was never a moment when he wasn't sorting out some problem inside his head. His distant demeanor wasn't egotistical or intentional, she thought--it was just a byproduct of an extraordinarily active, preoccupied mind.

Wayne's mind, thought his wife, was always going in a thousand directions.

"He was absolutely the most unique character I've ever met. I'd see him in the weight room late at night, killing himself," says Matt Braswell, a former All-Southeastern Conference offensive lineman at Georgia. And when Braswell and other players would drive by the jogging McDuffie, they would lower their car windows and listen as the coach violently cursed himself for not running harder and faster. "He was a son-of-a-bitch. The closest analogy I can draw would be a drill instructor. But Wayne taught me more football than any other coach. I'm not sure it was his mantra 'to never give up.' I think it was, 'If you're going to do it. then be the best you can be . . . and if you can't do it, then you quit.'"

"He was a tough, hard-nosed football coach. You won't run across any harder," says Ray Goff, a close friend and the former Georgia coach who worked hard to lure McDuffie to his staff. "People would recruit against you because of Wayne. They'd say, 'You don't want to go there (to Georgia), the guy is too tough he's too hard.' He wanted to be the best at everything. He could not stand anything not being the best Maybe he tried to keep that same persona off the field that he had on the field-and he had a hard time distinguishing where to cut it loose."

Goff realized McDuffie was unlike anyone else he had ever met. "He was truly the most intense guy I've ever been around in my life. I've never seen the likes of Wayne McDuffie."

Something did happen. At the end of 1995, he was fired for the first time as a coach. Fired after five years, mostly successful, at Georgia--including a year when he thought he had almost given his life to the school. It was, truth be told, something Wayne saw coming. Something, said some, he had invited. Last October, he spoke to the Athens Touchdown Club and publicly suggested that Goff's staff had already been fired by athletic director Vince Dooley. McDuffie's animosity toward Dooley was thinly veiled.

"I had to address him professionally on a couple of issues that I thought he was wrong on. I called him down. But when I did it, it was over. It was just a professional thing," Dooley says. "But he may have carried it with him . . . he could have." After the Touchdown Club speech, Dooley waited three or four days, thinking that Wayne would come in to apologize or explain. "I thought he had not conducted himself the way he should have. What he did at the Touchdown Club was shocking to everybody. . . . I had a responsibility to talk to him about it."

A month later, Wayne and the rest of Ray Goff's staff were fired. 

Wayne McDuffie, everyone said would be coaching somewhere soon. But, only those handful of friends knew that was small comfort for someone who wanted to be a head coach and who studied and remapped that career path--until the reels were mindlessly flapping over and over again. 

 He watched members of the old staff move on to other jobs. He even knew that Goff was spending more time at the little farm he had in Georgia Wayne jogged in his golf-course neighborhood, pushing himself hard. He lifted weights. And, with his wife, he wrestled with plans for the future. He hoped a professional team would come calling. He had feelers in with the Dolphins.

But his birthday (December 1) and the holidays passed--as did the big bowl games, the pro playoffs and the Super Bowl--and Wayne McDuffie still was unemployed. The contract for that lakeside retirement paradise still sat unsigned on his desk. He was 51 years old. The chart, the map, had led nowhere.

By mid-February, there were times when he and Toni didn't talk. She knew, without asking, that he was struggling. But, like he had in the past, she also knew he would rise above it. On February 16, she left for her job at a Tallahassee middle school. It was 7:30 a.m. Wayne told her that she might not see him when she got home, because he was going hunting. Toni took it as a good sign that Wayne was communicating with her. As she left the house, she saw her husband watching her from the kitchen window.

Toni returned home at 4 p.m. Wayne's red car was still in the driveway, and she assumed someone else had driven on the hunting trip. There was an unerased message on the answering machine from the Dolphins: Wayne hadn't gotten the job. She left for a while to feed her horses and run errands. As Toni cleaned up the house close to 7 p.m., she sew Wayne's hunting boots on a back-porch table. She looked on the porch and stared at the blood.

Sometime that day, Wayne McDuffie had taken two shotguns, two handguns, guncleaning supplies and several rounds of ammunition and placed them on his patio table. He partially disassembled one shotgun and took the cylinder from one handgun. Dressed in blue jeans, white socks, brown leather shoes and a white Atlanta Falcons shirt, Wayne McDuffie raised the other handgun and shot himself in the chest.

Then he got up, walked one lap around the pool, sat down and shot himself again...this time in the heart.

A few years ago (May, 2022), I dedicated a number of posts to the topic of mental health and athletics- you can find the first one here:

Athletics and Mental Health

I wanted to include a portion of the last post as a help to those who struggle in the area or now someone who fits this profile:

Though modern Christianity often tends to shy away from these topics… the Bible and the history of Christianity is a hard core, blunt testimony to believers who walk in periods of darkness and despair.

If you doubt this - read David’s laments as he cries through lonely nights, Naomi who called out to those around her to change her name. She said “Don’t call me Naomi (pleasant), Call me Mara (Bitter)”. Jeremiah was known as the ‘weeping prophet”.

There is an ENTIRE book called “Lamentations”- I guarantee we don’t read that book a lot.

Martin Luther was famous for fits of what he termed a malady of melancholy.The great nineteenth century preacher Charles Spurgeon suffered from acute depression. Often he was bedridden and unable to preach, sometimes as much as twice a month.

Now, again, it is so important here to not put all of these experiences in a simple basket called 'the blues'.

The more we learn about these conditions from acute to chronic, from chemical and genetic disorders, from weather related conditions, from trauma in early life, from tragedy in life, from fear and anxiousness, to identity crisis… even spiritual crisis… this is never going to be simple and the cure will often appear out of the reach of reality… but God is never absent and we are never without hope.

I also wanted to make reference and distinguish to something similar, but not the same. Early church fathers spent much time on a season they referred to as , “The Dark Night of the Soul”.

The phrase comes from an 8 stanza poem by St. John of the Cross (1542-1591), a Spanish monk and mystic.Gerald May, in his book  Care of Mind/Care of Spirit, says that these dark night places are doing a work that is deeper than our experiences of emotion, thought or action. In some ways, it might be more helpful to call the “dark night” a non-experience or a process of ‘unknowing’ .

The word ‘distinction’ is so important in ciphering through these experiences….

“It is important for us to make a distinction between the spiritual fruit of joy and the cultural concept of happiness. A Christian can have joy in his heart while there is still spiritual depression in his head. The joy that we have sustains us through these dark nights and is not quenched by spiritual depression. The joy of the Christian is one that survives all downturns in life.” R.C. Sproul

SURPRISED BY DEPTHS OF LONGING AND DEPRESSION

I may be wrong, but I NEVER remember being ‘depressed’ for any length of time throughout my teens, 20’s, and early 30’s. Sure, I got ‘disappointed’ and I suffered loss. I went through seasons of unrequited desires.

But not only do I not remember fighting depression or negativity, I actually had little patience with anyone who did. I disliked anyone who spoke in defeatist terms.. and the ‘blues’? My shallow and unfeeling reply was ‘get over it, you loser’.

BUT LIFE (and God) made sure I experienced what Ecclesiastes was promising.

Sure I was still a man of faith, I was loved, I was blessed- I was a peaceful man more with joy than regret..

but I also found myself dealing with a strange new friends… fears, doubts, loneliness, and emptiness. And they were tangible.. I could taste them. They made my eyes tired, they kept me up at night, and I couldn’t even introduce them to my wife.

It wasn’t dramatic enough to be labeled a ‘mid-life crisis’- I wasn’t thinking of convertibles and Corona’s…..But I was pulled by a strong gravity inward to wrestle with deep desires and questions that I had hidden with youthful exuberance and a smile.

Now, here is the weird thing….looking back over 20 years of meeting these friends in sneak attacks and seasons of grief or pain….. It was wonderful!

Because I did find the one person who met me there, in the dark, under the accusing crooked fingers of my demons.

Jesus was and is there, though many times I did not see Him. He didn’t say much.. but I knew He cared. You know the old Marine saying? “You can pretend to care, but you cannot pretend to be there.” One of the greatest growth moments of faith is to look into the darkness and know you are not alone... HE WAS THERE!

How was He there? I found that God’s Word powerfully attached to all of those dispositions. I particularly found healing in Psalms and in the gospels.

“We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies” (2 Cor. 4:7­-10).

The apostle Paul in writing to the Philippians gives me the admonition to be “anxious for nothing,” telling me that the cure for anxiety is found on my knees, that it is the peace of God that calms my spirit and dissipates anxiety. Again, I can be anxious and nervous and worried without finally submitting to ultimate despair.

IDENTITY CRISIS AND EMPTY SLOGANS OF LIFE

Before you give me a wreath of victory… the struggle remains. And for some people, it is a lifelong battle that requires consistent medication, evaluation, and professional support. At this time, I haven’t had to go there, but it is no lack of faith and no reason for shame if I did.

I was also helped by Os Guinness in a book titled, “The Call”

For me,  Os Guinness began to articulate about finding authentic love and truth in the dark.

He writes: The notion of calling is VITAL to each of us because it touches on the modern search for a basis for individual identity and an understanding of humanness itself.

He outlines stages of human identity that is connected to our own sense of purpose. All human worldviews and philosophies speak to aspects of these ‘labels’ of identity

One is “I AM CONSTRAINED TO BE”– this simply is where we are right now by following the path that led here. It is the lot we find ourselves, and can present itself like a prison of our own circumstances. Sometimes these constraints look insurmountable… and some are.

The next one is “COURAGE TO BE”- this is the one that I held to as that optimistic 20 year old. I bought into all the snappy slogans that turned into self-help best sellers. “Be all you can be”- “Shoot for the Stars”. Now, to he honest- these are great challenges and they do ‘birth’ dreams that are helpful in the process of pulling against our restraints.

The third one is “CONSTITUTED TO BE”- this one is where most secular philosophies stop and ‘mission accomplished’ is celebrated. We have broken out of our constraints and now revel in a life. We have FOUND our identity in context of experience, passion, and skill. The power is within ourselves and can be described as a kind of 'intestinal fortitude' or 'guts'.

But the Bible does not stop there… it wants me to take one more step… a step of faith..and it is a huge deal…

‘CALLED TO BE’– this is the relationship of love that moves us with purpose and not a product of chance and whim. By being called to a person… especially the Creator and Lover of our souls, we have a place to go when our soul is wounded and crushed or flooded with anxiety. Who can we depend on when our 'guts' run out?

R.C. Sproul said it like this:

The presence of faith gives no guarantee of the absence of spiritual depression; however, the dark night of the soul always gives way to the brightness of the noonday light in the presence of God.

My relationship with a FATHER… THE FATHER.. the lover of my soul… gives me a NAME that matters.

My despair... anxiety... loneliness.. depression... grief... was good- because it drove me to the One who was seeking me all along.

C.S. Lewis says it is in our stories…. a ‘desire for a far off country’  the scent of a flower we have not found… the echo of a tune we have not heard..news from a country we have yet to visit”

And when we find Him in the depths.. we still don’t know a lot… but we know Him. And our question becomes “What do you desire me to do?”

Remember Naomi… the one who wanted to be called “Bitter”?

Naomi knew darkness. She and her husband had to sojourn in famine conditions in Moab. She had 2 sons who married Moabite women. Life was tough, but grew desperate as Naomi had to experience the death of her husband and, 10 years later, she went through the pain of losing her two sons!

And the women said, “Is this Naomi?” She said to them, “Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me. I went away full, and the LORD has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi, when the LORD has testified against me and the Almighty has brought calamity upon me?”  (Ruth 1:19-21 ESV)

But, OVER TIME, Naomi experienced the love of God through Ruth and God stepped in and provided a Kinsman Redeemer and lifted this family up!

I hope you know the story about how Boaz, a kind and devout man, met Ruth and sacrificially worked to gain Ruth as his bride. And when Ruth gave Naomi a grandson… the blessing was complete.

Naomi’s identity was miraculously changed:

“Then the women said to Naomi, “Blessed be the LORD, who has not left you this day without a redeemer, and may his name be renowned in Israel! [15] He shall be to you a restorer of life and a nourisher of your old age, for your daughter-in-law who loves you, who is more to you than seven sons, has given birth to him.” [16] Then Naomi took the child and laid him on her lap and became his nurse.” (Ruth 4:14-16 ESV)

The depression/anxiety that we struggle with may be profound, but it is not permanent, nor is it fatal.

And sometimes, all we can do… all we need to do is just keep breathing… our hearts need to keep pumping… and listen for the word of Your Father… He is THERE and He does CARE.

As a coach, these struggles have made me better. I'm not tempted by the glory of sports fame nor chained to achievements... the stuff never loves me back.

Instead... I have just loved being with athletes and I feel their anxiety and my heart aches to help them. And the cool things about kids.... the have an uncanny sense of knowing if you REALLY care about them. And one they know you care.... there is no end in how you can help them. And I don't mean how to better read the safety as he rolls to 3 cloud... or how to switch the pass pro when they feel a filed pressure coming... no you help them in deeper ways.

i want them to see me faithfully fighting with relentless optimism....

I want them to see me not running away from God in the midst of chaos and tragedy of life.. but inspiring them to cling to the One who loves and restores.

One day we will all see Him face to face...He will wipe away our tears… and we will truly know a freedom from human misery, death, and deceit.

"The Lord is near to the broken-hearted and He saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18

Can you dare to believe this?

If you or anyone you know of has patterns or signs of concern, make sure you reach out and find help.

We can go though a lot of things together, but no one ever really wins alone.

Brother John- Frère Jacques

Though this title is a shout out to the long famous nursery rhyme about a Monk who overslept his duty to ring the bells - Ding, Dang, Dong.... I actually wanted to write a little about John the Apostle and how he is often overlooked, at least in my life.

Throughout my time in reading the Bible, I have often gone into thought experiments about Biblical characters, thinking about their life story and their personality. And in that, I identify a lot with Peter and even have a series on 1st and 2nd Peter where I interweave a fictional re-telling of some of his stories (April/May/June 2020- A Fisherman's Tale) 

Recently, I have begun to think through the life of John, especially in preparing for a Sunday School series on the Book of Revelation.

Biblical history is tough- there are so many divisions of conservative and liberal Biblical scholars that it makes digging into the history problematic- jaded skepticism and human presupposition makes honest history less science and more narrative.

Even the battle about the date of Revelation leaves plenty of room for doubt. Was it written in 65-68 AD or 95AD? Was John the same John for all the Books in the Bible with his name? The worldview of each scholar is baked into his analysis and conclusion.

So as I weave this 'account' of John, note that it has many dissenters and critics to counter each piece. This account is based on reading both Biblical and extra-Biblical sources and - this is just a blog post and my view....

John and his older brother, James were fisherman. They were the sons of Zebedee and Salome and it is likely they were cousins to Jesus by the fact that Salome and Mary were sisters. It is reasonable to believe that John the apostle was an early follower of John the Baptist and when Jesus called to Andrew, I believe John was the other one. Andrew then went and told Peter about Jesus as well.

The official call for discipleship came soon after that, "going on from there, he saw two other brothers, James, son of Zebedee, and his brother John. They were preparing their nets in a boat with their father, Zebedee. Jesus called them, so they left the boat and followed him (Matthew 4:21:22, Mark 1:19-20)

It is a long church tradition to mention John as the youngest of the disciples.

John was an inner-circle disciple- The one whom Jesus loved and John and James must have been characters to be called Sons of Thunder (Boanerges). In Luke 9, these two wanted to call down fire of Samaritans who rejected Jesus:

When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. [52] And he sent messengers ahead of him, who went and entered a village of the Samaritans, to make preparations for him. [53] But the people did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem. [54] And when his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to tell fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” [55] But he turned and rebuked them. [56] And they went on to another village. (Luke 9:51–56)

Sons of Thunder indeed!

Mom shows up in Matthew 20 with her request- notice the brothers answer....

Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee came up to him with her sons, and kneeling before him she asked him for something. [21] And he said to her, “What do you want?” She said to him, “Say that these two sons of mine are to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.” [22] Jesus answered, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I am to drink?” They said to him, “We are able.” [23] He said to them, “You will drink my cup, but to sit at my right hand and at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.” (Matthew 20:20–23 ESV)

Sadly, both did- James was the first martyr after faithfully serving the church in Jerusalem.

Acts 12:1–2

About that time Herod the king laid violent hands on some who belonged to the church. [2] He killed James the brother of John with the sword, (Acts 12:1–2 ESV). Please note that this is not the James who was the leader of the Jerusalem council and by tradition was thrown from the Temple and then stoned.

Back to John- 

At the last supper- his place was next to Christ on "Whose breast he leaned"

He was at the crucifixion where Jesus asked him to take care of Mary.

He out raced Peter to the empty tomb where he saw and believed.

He was mentioned with Peter in Acts 3, thrown in prison in Acts 4, and with Peter again in Acts 8

An extra-Biblical source says he was tortured for his faith BEFORE being sent to Patmos where he has the visions and message to write Revelation. 

The church historian Tertulian said that the Roman emperor Domitian commanded that the apostle John be boiled to death in oil, but John only continued to preach from within the pot. Thus John, the head of the church in Ephesus at the time, was banished to Patmos around A.D. 95- 97.

We read from John in Revelation:

[9] I, John, your brother and partner in the tribulation and the kingdom and the patient endurance that are in Jesus, was on the island called Patmos on account of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. (ESV)

[10] I was in the Spirit on the Lord's day, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet [11] saying, “Write what you see in a book and send it to the seven churches, to Ephesus and to Smyrna and to Pergamum and to Thyatira and to Sardis and to Philadelphia and to Laodicea.” (ESV)

Revelation is a beautiful testimony to the faithful witness of John- it could NOT have been easy to see and write about what he saw! 

And throughout the book we read: then I turned/ when I saw/ after this I looked/ then I saw/ I saw/ then I looked/ now I watched/ and I looked/ after this I saw/ I saw/ then I looked/ then I saw/ this is how I saw it in my vision/ then I saw/ and I saw/ then I saw/ then I looked/ then I saw/ and I saw/ after this I looked/ then I heard/ and I saw/ after this I saw/ .... and ON AND ON- from 1:12 all the way until 22:8

I worry we make too much of the Book if we don't understand that John is being faithful to what Christ is showing Him....

Finally, church tradition says this:

Two years after John’s exile, the emperor Domitian died, and John returned to the church in Ephesus. The youngest of the disciples lived also to be the oldest, dying in peace in Ephesus around the age of eighty after over half a century of resilient service to Jesus’ church.

If the timeline is right, John lost his brother, James in 44AD and then had another 50 years in which he too "drank the cup" to the glory of Christ!

It is believed that John was buried in the southern slope of Ayosolug Hill near Ephesus (modern day Turkey). Three hundred years after his death, a small chapel was constructed over the grave in the 4th century. The church of St John was changed into a marvelous basilica during the region of Emperor Justinian (527 -565 AD).

It later became a mosque and then deemed unusable after an earthquake.

John is NOT SLEEPING- he is alive with Christ and one day I will get to meet him!