Being Sidelined Quotes

Hope is not blind optimism. It's not ignoring the enormity of the task ahead or the roadblocks that stand in our path. It's not sitting on the sidelines or shirking from a fight. Hope is that thing inside us that insists, despite all evidence to the contrary, that something better awaits us if we have the courage to reach for it, and to work for it, and to fight for it. Hope is the belief that destiny will not be written for us, but by us, by the men and women who are not content to settle for the world as it is, who have the courage to remake the world as it should be.

I wasn't good at pretending, that was the thing. After what had happened in that burning house, given what went on there, I could see no point in being anything other than truthful with the world. I had, literally, nothing left to lose. But, by careful observation from the sidelines, I'd worked out that social success is often built on pretending just a little. Popular people sometimes have to laugh at things they don't find very funny, or do things they don't particularly want to, with people whose company they don't particularly enjoy. Not me. I had decided, years ago, that if the choice was between that or flying solo, then I'd fly solo. It was safer that way. Grief is the price we pay for love, so they say. The price is far too high.

We are so utterly ordinary, so commonplace, while we profess to know a Power the Twentieth Century does not reckon with. But we are "harmless," and therefore unharmed. We are spiritual pacifists, non-militants, conscientious objectors in this battle-to-the-death with principalities and powers in high places. Meekness must be had for contact with men, but brass, outspoken boldness is required to take part in the comradeship of the Cross. We are "sideliners" -- coaching and criticizing the real wrestlers while content to sit by and leave the enemies of God unchallenged. The world cannot hate us, we are too much like its own. Oh that God would make us dangerous!

we reduce discipleship to a canned program, and so many in the church end up sidelined in a spectator mentality that delegates disciple making to pastors and professionals, ministers and missionaries. But this is not the way it’s supposed to be.

I broke you. Over nad over. And then I blamed you for being broken...

I foresee a miracle occurring in the future.” “Which is?” “You,” Kingsley said as the team gathered on the sideline. “Being humbled.” “And what makes you say that?” Søren asked, sounding both imperious and sceptical. Kingsley only smiled on and said three words. “I met Eleanor.

Reading a book is like living a deep and fulfilling life. Watching a movie is like being a paralyzed person: watching others live their lives while you observe from the sidelines.

It’s only in faerie tales that everything works out for the best with a magik spell or a prince’s kiss. It’s only in storybooks some little bastard picks up a sword and wields it like he was born to it. The rest of us? We have to work our arses off. And we might not ever taste triumph, but at least we dared to fail. We stand apart from those cowards whispering on the sidelines about how the strong did stumble, while never daring to set foot in the ring themselves. Victors are just folk who were never satisfied being vanquished. The only thing worse than finishing last is not beginning at all. And fuck finishing last.

You can’t tell half a tale, Poison. You can’t write half a book. Whatever you choose to do next will completely change the aspect of what has gone before. if you decided to suddenly kill your friends as they slept –“ Why would I do that?” Poison interjected. Bear with me,” Fleet said patiently. “If you did, then the tale would take on a whole new light. Instead of being the journey of Poison from Gull to save her sister, it would be the terrible story of how a young girl became a cold-blooded killer. They way it would be written would be different. Do you see? Or you might die right now, and it would turn out that it wasn’t your tale all along it was Bram’s or Peppercorn’s, and you were just one of the sideline characters. The whole story has to be known before it can be recorded; otherwise it might suddenly change. That’s the beauty, Poison. You never know what’s going to happen next. When the tale is ended, then the writing will be visible to your eyes; until then it is unwritten.

Marriage is about compromising,’ he told me. ‘Families are about compromising, being anything other than a hermit is about compromising. Parliamentary democracy certainly is.’ He snorted. ‘Nothing but.’ He drained his glass. ‘You either learn to compromise or you resign yourself to shouting from the sidelines for the rest of your life.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Or you arrange to become a dictator. There’s always that, I suppose.’ He shrugged. ‘Not a great set of choices, really, but that’s the price we pay for living together. And it’s that or solitude. Then you really do become a wanker. Another drink?

Do you know why our poetry today and especially our philosophy are such dead issues? Because they've cut themselves off from life. Now, Greece idealized on life's own level: an artist's life was already a poetic achievement; a philosopher's life was an enactment of his philosophy; and when they were a part of life that way, instead of ignoring each other, philosophy could nourish poetry, poetry express philosophy, and together achieve an admirable persuasiveness. Today beauty no longer acts; and action no longer bothers about being beautiful; and wisdom operates on the sidelines.

Be history, instead of just watching it happen from the sidelines.  Try something new, even if it scares you to death.  Learn because you love to learn, not because you’re being tested.  Don’t whine – there is always someone who’s having a worse day than you are.  Be honest with yourself, and you’ll never have anything to hide.   

Critics are those righteous experts who judge other people's hard earned accomplishmens as they themselves stand on the sidelines of life.

You're where you wanted to be, aren't you? So you're taking a few blows. That's the price for being in the arena and not on the sidelines. Stop complaining and be grateful.

I also often ask my guests about what they consider to be their invisible weaknesses and shortcomings. I do this because these are the characteristics that define us no less than our strengths. What we feel sets us apart from other people is often the thing that shapes us as individuals. This may be especially true of writers and actors, many of whom first started to develop their observational skills as a result of being sidelined from typical childhood or adolescent activities because of an infirmity or a feeling of not fitting in. Or so I’ve come to believe from talking to so many writers and actors over the years.

The majority of women in Welmont with children Charlie's age never miss a soccer game and don't earn special good mother status for being there. This is simply what good mothers do. These same mothers herald it an exceptional event if any of the dads leave the office early to catch a game. The fathers cheering on the sidelines are upheld as great dads. Fathers who miss the games are working. Mothers who miss the games, like me, are bad mothers.

I can't define it, I can't tell someone who isn't a cougar what it's like. There's something that happens at Washington State; you quietly and subtly become infected...Washington State is a passion. Being a cougar is a passion

I wasn't good at pretending... I could see no point in being anything other than truthful with the world... But, by careful observation from the sidelines, I'd worked out that social success is often built on pretending just a little. Popular people sometimes have to laugh at things they don't find funny, do things they don't particularly want to, with people whose company they don't particularly enjoy. Not me. I had decided, years ago, that if the choice was between that or flying solo, then I'd fly solo.

Don’t strive to be a well-rounded leader. Instead, discover your zone and stay there. Then delegate everything else. Admitting a weakness is a sign of strength. Acknowledging weakness doesn’t make a leader less effective. Everybody in your organization benefits when you delegate responsibilities that fall outside your core competency. Thoughtful delegation will allow someone else in your organization to shine. Your weakness is someone’s opportunity. Leadership is not always about getting things done “right.” Leadership is about getting things done through other people. The people who follow us are exactly where we have led them. If there is no one to whom we can delegate, it is our own fault. As a leader, gifted by God to do a few things well, it is not right for you to attempt to do everything. Upgrade your performance by playing to your strengths and delegating your weaknesses. There are many things I can do, but I have to narrow it down to the one thing I must do. The secret of concentration is elimination. Devoting a little of yourself to everything means committing a great deal of yourself to nothing. My competence in these areas defines my success as a pastor. A sixty-hour workweek will not compensate for a poorly delivered sermon. People don’t show up on Sunday morning because I am a good pastor (leader, shepherd, counselor). In my world, it is my communication skills that make the difference. So that is where I focus my time. To develop a competent team, help the leaders in your organization discover their leadership competencies and delegate accordingly. Once you step outside your zone, don’t attempt to lead. Follow. The less you do, the more you will accomplish. Only those leaders who act boldly in times of crisis and change are willingly followed. Accepting the status quo is the equivalent of accepting a death sentence. Where there’s no progress, there’s no growth. If there’s no growth, there’s no life. Environments void of change are eventually void of life. So leaders find themselves in the precarious and often career-jeopardizing position of being the one to draw attention to the need for change. Consequently, courage is a nonnegotiable quality for the next generation leader. The leader is the one who has the courage to act on what he sees. A leader is someone who has the courage to say publicly what everybody else is whispering privately. It is not his insight that sets the leader apart from the crowd. It is his courage to act on what he sees, to speak up when everyone else is silent. Next generation leaders are those who would rather challenge what needs to change and pay the price than remain silent and die on the inside. The first person to step out in a new direction is viewed as the leader. And being the first to step out requires courage. In this way, courage establishes leadership. Leadership requires the courage to walk in the dark. The darkness is the uncertainty that always accompanies change. The mystery of whether or not a new enterprise will pan out. The reservation everyone initially feels when a new idea is introduced. The risk of being wrong. Many who lack the courage to forge ahead alone yearn for someone to take the first step, to go first, to show the way. It could be argued that the dark provides the optimal context for leadership. After all, if the pathway to the future were well lit, it would be crowded. Fear has kept many would-be leaders on the sidelines, while good opportunities paraded by. They didn’t lack insight. They lacked courage. Leaders are not always the first to see the need for change, but they are the first to act. Leadership is about moving boldly into the future in spite of uncertainty and risk. You can’t lead without taking risk. You won’t take risk without courage. Courage is essential to leadership.

But alas, I'd have to find a way to be opinionated without being too opinionated, authoritative without being a bitch about it, smart without being elitist, fair without being a pushover. If the boyfriends of my youth found me too authoritative when I should have been cheering on the sidelines as they kicked and tossed and smacked balls toward the vanguard, the male colleagues of my adulthood kept reminding me of my lack of authority as they unconsciously displayed theirs. I was always failing someone's standards of legitimacy, as a girlfriend, as a producer of opinions. It was an eternal no-win. I was always too big or too small, like Alice, and forever being told, in one way or another, 'Eat me.

Do you know the first thing Jesus did with that meager offering? He looked up to heaven and gave thanks to God for the little he was given by the boy. I wonder what it was like for that boy to see his meager meal held up to the heavens by the hands of a grateful Jesus. Jesus, of course, knew it wasn’t going to remain little, that it was about to be multiplied into great abundance. But let’s not miss this moment. The Son of God, holding our offering up to Almighty God and blessing it with his thanks! Remember Kalli, unable to imagine what she could possibly do to help but volunteering anyway? We need to be like her. We don’t need to know how God is going to use our meager offering. We only need to know that he wants to use it. Always remember that God celebrates our gifts to him and blesses them. Next, Jesus broke the bread and the fish. When he blessed it, there were five and two. But when he broke it, we lose count. The more Jesus broke the bread and fish, the more there was to feed and nourish. The disciples started distributing the food, and soon what was broken was feeding thousands. The miracle is in the breaking. It is in the breaking that God multiplies not enough into more than enough. Are there broken places in your life so painful that you fear the breaking will destroy you? Do you come from a broken home? Did you have a broken marriage? Did you have a broken past? Have you experienced brokenness in your body? Have your finances been broken? You may think your brokenness has disqualified you from being able to run in the divine relay, but as with my own life and Kalli’s, when we give God our brokenness, it qualifies us to be used by God to carry a baton of hope, restoration, and grace to others on the sidelines who are broken.

While it's true that most females born after 1960 have been told from childhood, 'The sky's the limit' and 'You can be anything you want to be,' a surprising number of women still hesitate when applying these mantras to their own careers. They need to be talked into believing in themselves and assured that others won't think less of them for setting high goals.

In Europe, Murrow observed to his wife, people were dying and "a thousand years of civilization [were] being smashed" while America remained on the sidelines. How could one possibly be objective or neutral about that?

A few months ago on a school morning, as I attempted to etch a straight midline part on the back of my wiggling daughter's soon-to-be-ponytailed blond head, I reminded her that it was chilly outside and she needed to grab a sweater. "No, mama." "Excuse me?" "No, I don't want to wear that sweater, it makes me look fat." "What?!" My comb clattered to the bathroom floor. "Fat?! What do you know about fat? You're 5 years old! You are definitely not fat. God made you just right. Now get your sweater." She scampered off, and I wearily leaned against the counter and let out a long, sad sigh. It has begun. I thought I had a few more years before my twin daughters picked up the modern day f-word. I have admittedly had my own seasons of unwarranted, psychotic Slim-Fasting and have looked erroneously to the scale to give me a measurement of myself. But these departures from my character were in my 20s, before the balancing hand of motherhood met the grounding grip of running. Once I learned what it meant to push myself, I lost all taste for depriving myself. I want to grow into more of a woman, not find ways to whittle myself down to less. The way I see it, the only way to run counter to our toxic image-centric society is to literally run by example. I can't tell my daughters that beauty is an incidental side effect of living your passion rather than an adherence to socially prescribed standards. I can't tell my son how to recognize and appreciate this kind of beauty in a woman. I have to show them, over and over again, mile after mile, until they feel the power of their own legs beneath them and catch the rhythm of their own strides. Which is why my parents wake my kids early on race-day mornings. It matters to me that my children see me out there, slogging through difficult miles. I want my girls to grow up recognizing the beauty of strength, the exuberance of endurance, and the core confidence residing in a well-tended body and spirit. I want them to be more interested in what they are doing than how they look doing it. I want them to enjoy food that is delicious, feed their bodies with wisdom and intent, and give themselves the freedom to indulge. I want them to compete in healthy ways that honor the cultivation of skill, the expenditure of effort, and the courage of the attempt. Grace and Bella, will you have any idea how lovely you are when you try? Recently we ran the Chuy's Hot to Trot Kids K together as a family in Austin, and I ran the 5-K immediately afterward. Post?race, my kids asked me where my medal was. I explained that not everyone gets a medal, so they must have run really well (all kids got a medal, shhh!). As I picked up Grace, she said, "You are so sweaty Mommy, all wet." Luke smiled and said, "Mommy's sweaty 'cause she's fast. And she looks pretty. All clean." My PRs will never garner attention or generate awards. But when I run, I am 100 percent me--my strengths and weaknesses play out like a cracked-open diary, my emotions often as raw as the chafing from my jog bra. In my ultimate moments of vulnerability, I am twice the woman I was when I thought I was meant to look pretty on the sidelines. Sweaty and smiling, breathless and beautiful: Running helps us all shine. A lesson worth passing along.

Perfect and bulletproof are seductive, but they don’t exist in the human experience. We must walk into the arena, whatever it may be—a new relationship, an important meeting, our creative process, or a difficult family conversation—with courage and the willingness to engage. Rather than sitting on the sidelines and hurling judgment and advice, we must dare to show up and let ourselves be seen. This is vulnerability. This is daring greatly.

Most of the church landscape in my lifetime has been heavily invested in trying to do something for Jerry or Sherri or some other icon of unchurchness. The problem is that they have been only about themselves from the moment they could wail for their mothers, and the decision to give them at church what they can find in any self-help book appears now as a choice to abandon the One in whose honor the church gathers. What they need is to be set free from themselves with finality and to be lost in the awesome wonder of the manifest presence of God. It was never God’s desire that He would sit on the sideline and watch us frantically devise impressive ways to reach people or simply hold the line on orthodoxy as though faithfulness can exist in a vacuum apart from fruitfulness. God is the Matter of first importance! Can you say that about your current weekly encounter with church?

There are some themes, some subjects, too large for adult fiction; they can only be dealt with adequately in a children's book. The reason for that is that in adult literary fiction, stories are there on sufferance. Other things are felt to be more important: technique, style, literary knowingness. Adult writers who deal in straightforward stories find themselves sidelined into a genre such as crime or science fiction, where no one expects literary craftsmanship. But stories are vital. Stories never fail us because, as Isaac Bashevis Singer says, "events never grow stale." There's more wisdom in a story than in volumes of philosophy. And by a story I mean not only Little Red Riding Hood and Cinderella and Jack and the Beanstalk but also the great novels of the nineteenth century, Jane Eyre, Middlemarch, Bleak House and many others: novels where the story is at the center of the writer's attention, where the plot actually matters. The present-day would-be George Eliots take up their stories as if with a pair of tongs. They're embarrassed by them. If they could write novels without stories in them, they would. Sometimes they do. But what characterizes the best of children's authors is that they're not embarrassed to tell stories. They know how important stories are, and they know, too, that if you start telling a story you've got to carry on till you get to the end. And you can't provide two ends, either, and invite the reader to choose between them. Or as in a highly praised recent adult novel I'm about to stop reading, three different beginnings. In a book for children you can't put the plot on hold while you cut artistic capers for the amusement of your sophisticated readers, because, thank God, your readers are not sophisticated. They've got more important things in mind than your dazzling skill with wordplay. They want to know what happens next.

The miracle is in the breaking. It is in the breaking that God multiplies not enough into more than enough. Are there broken places in your life so painful that you fear the breaking will destroy you? Do you come from a broken home? Did you have a broken marriage? Did you have a broken past? Have you experienced brokenness in your body? Have your finances been broken? You may think your brokenness has disqualified you from being able to run in the divine relay, but as with my own life and Kalli’s, when we give God our brokenness, it qualifies us to be used by God to carry a baton of hope, restoration, and grace to others on the sidelines who are broken. What should have disqualified Kalli from the race was the very thing that qualified her for it. Put your broken pieces into God’s hands and watch him use them to work his wonders.

Recently in America, we've fallen into a never-ending debate about whether women can 'have it all.' It's an absurd frame for many reasons. The first: For almost all mothers, earning money is a necessity, not a choice. Women work to provide for themselves and their children. We need to stop pretending that work is optional for all but the most financially secure American women. Second: The word 'have' in that phrase drives me crazy. It sounds like women are being greedy, trying to finagle more than their fair share, more than they're due. This is preposterous.

After the merch booth has closed, I join the melee, but am nudged to the middle of the mob, and then the back, where I stand on my toes to watch person after person embrace my husband. Jeff’s words from our pseudo-poker game rise to the surface of my consciousness and bob there, refusing to be silenced. This is the very definition of being a supporting character. But I don’t really mind that I’m this far away—I can still see the smile on his face as bright as a spotlight, and his joy seems to vibrate across the distance. Surely everyone knows what a big deal this must be to him, but I still look at him and remember the subway musician hunched over his guitar, sitting on a narrow stool, guitar case open at his feet. And now here he is, wearing a suit, standing beside Ramón Martín, and getting the praise and adoration of an entire cast and crew. I’m still on the sidelines, but I helped make that happen.

The adult supervisors had zero psychic sensitivity and, since they were mortally afraid of going anywhere near an actual Visitor, never ventured far into a haunted zone. Instead, they hung around on the sidelines, being old and useless, and shouting orders that were utterly out of sync with whatever was going on.

God wants his power in every person’s life. He loves taking ordinary people and using them to do extraordinary things. It didn’t take long, however, for Christians to make ministry a profession and hire a few folks to lead their churches. They called these people clergy and soon the rest of the body of Christ sat passively on the sidelines and watched. They could be part of a “church” without any real sacrifice or personal commitment to the well-being of the community.

you wouldn’t honestly have him go back, would you? i can’t believe it.” “this has nothing to do with you.” “stop being so selfish. if kevin’s dream has always been to be the best on the court, what right do you have to take it away from him? why would you ask him to settle for less? the foxes are giving him a chance to play whereas you’d relegate him to the sidelines. he has no reason to transfer back.” “palmetto state is a waste of his talents.” “not as much as edgar allan was.” - neil & riko

Jobs’s ambition was to build a company that would endure, and he asked Markkula what the formula for that would be. Markkula replied that lasting companies know how to reinvent themselves. Hewlett-Packard had done that repeatedly; it started as an instrument company, then became a calculator company, then a computer company. “Apple has been sidelined by Microsoft in the PC business,” Markkula said. “You’ve got to reinvent the company to do some other thing, like other consumer products or devices. You’ve got to be like a butterfly and have a metamorphosis.” Jobs didn’t say much, but he agreed.

She/I -- the dreamer -- cannot act as a principal in her own dream. She, the narrator of the table, is an easy accomplice. She sits quietly on the sidelines at the dance, waiting to be invited. The watcher has a bitter place in the world. She has so much yearning in her heart, so little acumen. Her loneliness is unbearable. Her unrequited longing calcified into her ventricles. Her silence welling up in her throat, all she can do now is gasp or sing for blood. She must quench her thirst for revenge. She must sound the sirens. She must rage out for being the obedient one, for being the repressed singer, for being that perfect Chinese girlhood too timorous to break the mold.

Go get her,' Amren hissed. 'Right now.' 'No,' I said, and hated the word. They gaped at me, and I wanted to roar at the sight of the blood coating them, at my unconscious and suffering brothers on the carpet before them. But I managed to say to my cousin, 'Weren't you listening to what Feyre said to him? She promised to destroy him- from within.' Mor's face paled, her magic flaring on Azriel's chest. 'She's going into that house to take him down. To take them all down.' I nodded. 'She is now a spy- with a direct line t me. What the King of Hybern does, where he goes, what his plans are, she will know. And report back.' Far between us, faint and soft, hidden so none might find it... between us lay a whisper of colour, and joy, of light and shadow- a whisper of her. Our bond. 'She's your mate,' Amren bit at me. 'Not your spy. Go get her.' 'She is my mate. And my spy,' I said too quietly. 'And she is the High Lady of the Night Court.' 'What?' Mor whispered. I caressed a mental finger down that bond now hidden deep, deep within us, and said, 'If they had removed her other glove, they would have seen a second tattoo on her right arm. The twin to the other. Inked last night, when we crept out, found a priestess, and I swore her in as my High Lady.' 'Not- not consort,' Amren blurted, blinking. I hadn't seen her surprised in... centuries. 'Not consort, not wife. Feyre is High Lady of the Night Court.' My equal in every way; she would wear my crown, sit on a throne beside mine. Never sidelined, never deigned to breeding and parties and child-rearing. My queen. As if in answer, a glimmer of love shuddered down the bond. I clamped down on the relief that threatened to shatter any calm I feigned having. 'You mean to tell me,' Mor breathed, 'that my High Lady is now surrounded by enemies?' A lethal sort of calm crept over her tear-stained face. 'I mean to tell you,' I said, watching the blood clot on Cassian's wings with Amren's tending. Beneath Mor's own hands. Azriel's bleeding at least eased. Enough to keep them alive until the healer got here. 'I mean to tell you,' I said again, my power building and rubbing itself against my skin, my bones, desperate to be unleashed upon the world, 'that your High Lady made a sacrifice for her court- and we will move when the time is right.' Perhaps Lucien being Elain's mate would help- somehow, I'd find a way. And then I'd assist my mate in ripping the Spring Court, Ianthe, those mortal queens, and the King of Hybern to shreds. Slowly. 'Until then?' Amren demanded. 'What of the Cauldron- of the book?' 'Until then,' I said, staring toward the door as if I might see her walk through it, laughing and vibrant and beautiful, 'we got to war.

They spent the rest of the time talking about where Apple should focus in the future. Jobs’s ambition was to build a company that would endure, and he asked Markkula what the formula for that would be. Markkula replied that lasting companies know how to reinvent themselves. Hewlett-Packard had done that repeatedly; it started as an instrument company, then became a calculator company, then a computer company. “Apple has been sidelined by Microsoft in the PC business,” Markkula said. “You’ve got to reinvent the company to do some other thing, like other consumer products or devices. You’ve got to be like a butterfly and have a metamorphosis.” Jobs didn’t say much, but he agreed.

It was never said of history, for instance, that it shouldn’t be talked about; on the contrary, in terms of history silence was forgetting, and it was the thing people feared most of all when it was their own history that was at risk of being forgotten. And history, really, was invisible, though its monuments still stood. The making of the monuments was half of it, but the rest was interpretation. Yet there was something worse than forgetting, which was misrepresentation, bias, the selective presentation of events. The truth had to be represented: it couldn’t just be left to represent itself, as for instance she had left it to the police after the incident, and found herself more or less sidelined.

Educating the young traditionally allowed new generations to join in the Great Conversation of civilization by furnishing access to the works and insights of previous generations of thinkers and writers from the dawn of history. Today it seems we only want to facilitate a conversation in which the young talk to themselves, about themselves. Treating the curriculum as a mirror in this way inevitably gives pupils a sense that they are the center of this universe. This is our mini-me Generation Snowflakers being told that thousands of years of literature, philosophy and historical insight should be sidelined to accommodate to their immediate interests. This inevitably feeds the idea that their own identity should be a trump card.

While it is popular to ask, "What would Jesus do?" the better question was always "What is Jesus doing?" The first question assumes that the Savior is on the sidelines and that the burden of life and work is on our shoulders. But in that case the Savior is not really saving but is setting impossibly high standards that we attempt to imitate by doing what we assume he would do if he were in our situation. On the other hand, the question "What is Jesus doing?" is built on the conviction that he is alive, reigning, and at work in our lives. In other words, he is in our situation, and that changes everything about our mission. Rather than believing that the work of Christ is completed and that now it is our turn to try to imitate his life and work, we take on the identity of being witnesses who watch and testify to his continued work of salvation that is unfolding before our eyes.

natural personality, or maybe he was simply capable of greater perspective than everyone else. Maybe he wasn’t quite as addled by drugs and alcohol. For whatever reason, Michael stayed on the sidelines as the rest of the band fought like a pack of starving wolves who have come across a carcass in the wilderness. Previous tours, especially in the first couple of years, had always featured a fair amount of ball-busting and the occasional argument that was required simply to clear the air. For the most part, though, we had a blast on the road. It was a nonstop party punctuated by spectacularly energetic concerts. There had been a lightness to it all, a sense of being part of something special, and of wanting to enjoy every minute. But now the levity was gone. Even though they spent hardly any time together offstage, the boys were at each other’s throats constantly, either directly or through a conduit—usually me. Two more quick stories, both involving Al. We were all sitting outside by the hotel pool one day. A guy named Mike had been flown in for a couple days to take care of the boys’ grooming needs. Mike was a hairdresser or stylist or whatever you want to call him. Point is, he was really good at his job, an artistic

We already have eight hundred million people living in hunger—and population is growing by eighty million a year. Over a billion people are in poverty—and present industrial strategies are making them poorer, not richer. The percentage of old people will double by 2050—and already there aren’t enough young people to care for them. Cancer rates are projected to increase by seventy percent in the next fifteen years. Within two decades our oceans will contain more microplastics than fish. Fossil fuels will run out before the end of the century. Do you have an answer to those problems? Because I do. Robot farmers will increase food production twentyfold. Robot carers will give our seniors a dignified old age. Robot divers will clear up the mess humans have made of our seas. And so on, and so on—but every single step has to be costed and paid for by the profits of the last.” He paused for breath, then went on, “My vision is a society where autonomous, intelligent bots are as commonplace as computers are now. Think about that—how different our world could be. A world where disease, hunger, manufacturing, design, are all taken care of by AI. That’s the revolution we’re shooting for. The shopbots get us to the next level, that’s all. And you know what? This is not some binary choice between idealism or realism, because for some of us idealism is just long-range realism. This shit has to happen. And you need to ask yourself, do you want to be part of that change? Or do you want to stand on the sidelines and bitch about the details?” We had all heard this speech, or some version of it, either in our job interviews, or at company events, or in passionate late-night tirades. And on every single one of us it had had a deep and transformative effect. Most of us had come to Silicon Valley back in those heady days when it seemed a new generation finally had the tools and the intelligence to change the world. The hippies had tried and failed; the yuppies and bankers had had their turn. Now it was down to us techies. We were fired up, we were zealous, we felt the nobility of our calling…only to discover that the general public, and our backers along with them, were more interested in 140 characters, fitness trackers, and Grumpy Cat videos. The greatest, most powerful deep-learning computers in humanity’s existence were inside Google and Facebook—and all humanity had to show for it were adwords, sponsored links, and teenagers hooked on sending one another pictures of their genitals.

How’s it going?” Day said dryly and went about setting up his coffee machine. “It’s going better now that I’m seeing you.” Detective Johnson came over to Day and stood over him. Day had to practically reach around the tall man to start the machine. “Dude, want to give me a little room here.” “No. I like being close to you.” Detective Johnson took one long finger and slowly dragged it down the front of Day’s chest. “Well fuckin’ unlike it.” They both jumped at the sound of God’s gruff voice. God walked up to Day and grabbed him by the back of his neck. He spun Day around so hard that he dropped the small packs of sugar to the floor. All he could do was hold on to God’s massive biceps as he ravaged his mouth. Day let God completely control him until he was done proving his point. God released him and Day practically fell back into the counter. “Fuck, Cash,” Day whispered, completely out of breath. After Day got his wits about him he noticed that God and Johnson were in a serious stare off over his head. Johnson broke first and looked down at Day. “You’re fucking God now?” Johnson asked disbelievingly. “Okay, that just sounds wrong saying it like that, so I’m not going to comment.” Day inched away from the two giants and propped himself up on one of the break-room tables. “I think I’ll watch this one from the sidelines.

Erienne had avoided the final pat of Lord Talbot and left the flushed and overexcited elder stewing in frustration. She was most happy to welcome the return of her appointed escort and to entrust her virtue to their truce. They met in the maze of guests, and from then on Christopher kept the larger part of the dance floor between them and their host while Talbot stood at the sidelines and, like an anxious stork, craned his neck for a sight of the one who eluded him. “You’re being obvious,” Erienne cautioned her partner. “So is he,” Christopher replied, “and if he persists, he’ll be lucky if I don’t lengthen his stride by a boot in the rear.” “Why are you so determined to harass Lord Talbot?” “You know my reasons for disliking the man.” “Me?” she asked incredulously. “What little time I have with you, I am loath to share with him.” “Why, Christopher,” the blue-violet eyes flashed with puckish humor, and the barest hint of a smile curved her lips to mock him. “Methinks thou dost protest the man overmuch.” He went mechanically through the steps of the dance while his mind plunged to a depth beyond her insight. When his attention returned to her, he nodded and agreed. “Aye, the man! Him, I do protest. I protest his arrogance, his careless flaunting of his power. I protest the wealth he wallows in while his tenants grub for a meager subsistence. Aye, I protest the man, and I decry the possibility that anything entrusted to my care should fall to him.” -Erienne & Christopher

Manette looked up from her paper. “I’m beginning to think that I’ll see men on the moon with my own eyes.” “Your own eyes? You’ll make the journey?” asked André, with laughter in his voice. “You know very well what I mean. I shall know they are there. And it’ll be the Russians, my boy. The Yankees missed by a mile, with their pure oxygen.” “Yes, Mama, you’ll see the Russians on the moon,” said André affectionately. “And to think we began in caves,” went on Manette meditatively, "with no more than our ten fingers to help us. And we've reached this point: you must admit it's heartening." “The history of mankind is very fine, true enough,” said André. “It’s a pity that that of men should be so sad.” “It won’t always be sad. If your Chinese don’t blow the world to pieces, our grandchildren will know socialism. I’d happily live another fifty years to see that.” “What a woman! Do you hear that?” he said to me. “She would sign on again for another fifty years.” “You wouldn’t, André?” “No, Mama: frankly I wouldn’t. History follows such very curious paths that I scarcely feel it has anything to do with me at all. I have the impression of being on the sideline. So in fifty year's time... “I know: you no longer believe in anything,” said Manette disapprovingly. “That’s not quite true.” “What do you believe in?” “People’s suffering, and the fact that it is abominable. One should do everything to abolish it. To tell you the truth, nothing else seems to me of any importance.” “In that case,” I asked, “why not the bomb? Why not annihilation? Let everything go up and there’s an end of it.” “There are times when one is tempted to wish for it. But I prefer to hope that there can be life, life without suffering.” “Life to do something with,” said Manette pugnaciously.

a young Goldman Sachs banker named Joseph Park was sitting in his apartment, frustrated at the effort required to get access to entertainment. Why should he trek all the way to Blockbuster to rent a movie? He should just be able to open a website, pick out a movie, and have it delivered to his door. Despite raising around $250 million, Kozmo, the company Park founded, went bankrupt in 2001. His biggest mistake was making a brash promise for one-hour delivery of virtually anything, and investing in building national operations to support growth that never happened. One study of over three thousand startups indicates that roughly three out of every four fail because of premature scaling—making investments that the market isn’t yet ready to support. Had Park proceeded more slowly, he might have noticed that with the current technology available, one-hour delivery was an impractical and low-margin business. There was, however, a tremendous demand for online movie rentals. Netflix was just then getting off the ground, and Kozmo might have been able to compete in the area of mail-order rentals and then online movie streaming. Later, he might have been able to capitalize on technological changes that made it possible for Instacart to build a logistics operation that made one-hour grocery delivery scalable and profitable. Since the market is more defined when settlers enter, they can focus on providing superior quality instead of deliberating about what to offer in the first place. “Wouldn’t you rather be second or third and see how the guy in first did, and then . . . improve it?” Malcolm Gladwell asked in an interview. “When ideas get really complicated, and when the world gets complicated, it’s foolish to think the person who’s first can work it all out,” Gladwell remarked. “Most good things, it takes a long time to figure them out.”* Second, there’s reason to believe that the kinds of people who choose to be late movers may be better suited to succeed. Risk seekers are drawn to being first, and they’re prone to making impulsive decisions. Meanwhile, more risk-averse entrepreneurs watch from the sidelines, waiting for the right opportunity and balancing their risk portfolios before entering. In a study of software startups, strategy researchers Elizabeth Pontikes and William Barnett find that when entrepreneurs rush to follow the crowd into hyped markets, their startups are less likely to survive and grow. When entrepreneurs wait for the market to cool down, they have higher odds of success: “Nonconformists . . . that buck the trend are most likely to stay in the market, receive funding, and ultimately go public.” Third, along with being less recklessly ambitious, settlers can improve upon competitors’ technology to make products better. When you’re the first to market, you have to make all the mistakes yourself. Meanwhile, settlers can watch and learn from your errors. “Moving first is a tactic, not a goal,” Peter Thiel writes in Zero to One; “being the first mover doesn’t do you any good if someone else comes along and unseats you.” Fourth, whereas pioneers tend to get stuck in their early offerings, settlers can observe market changes and shifting consumer tastes and adjust accordingly. In a study of the U.S. automobile industry over nearly a century, pioneers had lower survival rates because they struggled to establish legitimacy, developed routines that didn’t fit the market, and became obsolete as consumer needs clarified. Settlers also have the luxury of waiting for the market to be ready. When Warby Parker launched, e-commerce companies had been thriving for more than a decade, though other companies had tried selling glasses online with little success. “There’s no way it would have worked before,” Neil Blumenthal tells me. “We had to wait for Amazon, Zappos, and Blue Nile to get people comfortable buying products they typically wouldn’t order online.

Then, as if he’d figured out what produced the maximum reaction in her, he switched back to Chopin. Just like that night in her childhood, the music slipped past her defenses and produced a deep contraction inside her, equal parts pain and pleasure. It went deeper still, until the tears began to rise, and she could only sit there, crying, trying to display only her expressionless left side so he wouldn’t notice. She’d been numb and it had felt good. Okay, not good. But safe. Manageable. He kept playing, soulful, stirring pieces that seemed chosen for their ability to pierce her heart deeper, deeper. She was crying audibly now, and he stopped and regarded her impassively. It couldn’t have been more awkward. She worked to compose herself and only then did she look up and meet his eyes. “Well,” he said, “I think it’s safe to say that dance is not done with you yet.” She stared at him in disbelief. “You did this on purpose. Tried to provoke a reaction.” “I suppose I did.” What a horrible, disreputable person he was. No wonder Misha had seemed anxious about having him around this weekend. “That was a pretty shitty thing to do.” “Not at all,” he replied. “I was just helping you see where you stand with your art. You need it. It nourishes you. That’s not going to go away just because you’re sidelined for a year or two.” “Two years?” She wasn’t sure which appalled her more, his words or his casual attitude. “Whatever. Point being, you’re still a dancer. It couldn’t be more obvious. That gorgeous body of yours, the way it moves. The way you’re sitting there now, all swept away by the music. You’re a dancer. You can’t not be one. Ever.” The truth of this, the twin emotions of fragile hope and crushing despair, crashed into her. He was right. And right then, the truth hurt. Now that the numbness was gone, it all hurt. The tears rose up again and spilled out. She heard Misha come in through the front door. David looked anxious. “Look, Dena. I just want to make sure you’re looking at the issue clearly.” Misha

While David runs the financial end of the Rockefeller dynasty, Nelson runs the political. Nelson would like to be President of the United States. But, unfortunately for him, he is unacceptable to the vast majority of the grass roots of his own party. The next best thing to being President is controlling a President. Nelson Rockefeller and Richard Nixon are supposed to be bitter political competitors. In a sense they are, but that still does not preclude Rockefeller from asserting dominion over Mr. Nixon. When Mr. Nixon and Mr. Rockefeller competed for the Republican nomination in 1968, Rockefeller naturally would have preferred to win the prize, but regardless of who won, he would control the highest office in the land. You will recall that right in the middle of drawing up the Republican platform in 1960, Mr. Nixon suddenly left Chicago and flew to New York to meet with Nelson Rockefeller in what Barry Goldwater described as the "Munich of the Republican Party." There was no political reason why Mr. Nixon needed to crawl to Mr. Rockefeller. He had the convention all sewed up. The Chicago Tribune cracked that it was like Grant surrendering to Lee. In The Making of the President, 1960, Theodore White noted that Nixon accepted all the Rockefeller terms for this meeting, including provisions "that Nixon telephone Rockefeller personally with his request for a meeting; that they meet at the Rockefeller apartment…that their meeting be secret and later be announced in a press release from the Governor, not Nixon; that the meeting be clearly announced as taking place at the Vice President's request; that the statement of policy issuing from it be long, detailed, inclusive, not a summary communiqué." The meeting produced the infamous "Compact of Fifth Avenue" in which the Republican Platform was scrapped and replaced by Rockefeller's socialist plans. The Wall Street Journal of July 25, 1960, commented: "…a little band of conservatives within the party…are shoved to the sidelines… [T]he fourteen points are very liberal indeed; they comprise a platform akin in many ways to the Democratic platform and they are a far cry from the things that conservative men think the Republican Party ought to stand for…" As Theodore White put it: "Never had the quadrennial liberal swoop of the regulars been more nakedly dramatized than by the open compact of Fifth Avenue. Whatever honor they might have been able to carry from their services on the platform committee had been wiped out. A single night's meeting of the two men in a millionaire's triplex apartment in Babylon-by-the-Hudson, eight hundred and thirty miles away, was about to overrule them; they were exposed as clowns for all the world to see." The whole story behind what happened in Rockefeller's apartment will doubtless never be known. We can only make an educated guess in light of subsequent events. But it is obvious that since that time Mr. Nixon has been in the Rockefeller orbit.

Unconditional blame is the tendency to explain all difficulties exclusively as the consequence of forces beyond your influence, to see yourself as an absolute victim of external circumstances. Every person suffers the impact of factors beyond his control, so we are all, in a sense, victims. We are not, however, absolute victims. We have the ability to respond to our circumstances and influence how they affect us. In contrast, the unconditional blamer defines his victim-identity by his helplessness, disowning any power to manage his life and assigning causality only to that which is beyond his control. Unconditional blamers believe that their problems are always someone else’s fault, and that there’s nothing they could have done to prevent them. Consequently, they believe that there’s nothing they should do to address them. Unconditional blamers feel innocent, unfairly burdened by others who do things they “shouldn’t” do because of maliciousness or stupidity. According to the unconditional blamer, these others “ought” to fix the problems they created. Blamers live in a state of self-righteous indignation, trying to control people around them with their accusations and angry demands. What the unconditional blamer does not see is that in order to claim innocence, he has to relinquish his power. If he is not part of the problem, he cannot be part of the solution. In fact, rather than being the main character of his life, the blamer is a spectator. Watching his own suffering from the sidelines, he feels “safe” because his misery is always somebody else’s fault. Blame is a tranquilizer. It soothes the blamer, sheltering him from accountability for his life. But like any drug, its soothing effect quickly turns sour, miring him in resignation and resentment. In order to avoid anxiety and guilt, the blamer must disown his freedom and power and see himself as a plaything of others. The blamer feels victimized at work. His job is fraught with letdowns, betrayals, disappointments, and resentments. He feels that he is expected to fix problems he didn’t create, yet his efforts are never recognized. So he shields himself with justifications. Breakdowns are never his fault, nor are solutions his responsibility. He is not accountable because it is always other people who failed to do what they should have done. Managers don’t give him direction as they should, employees don’t support him as they should, colleagues don’t cooperate with him as they should, customers demand much more than they should, suppliers don’t respond as they should, senior executives don’t lead the organization as they should, administration systems don’t work as they should—the whole company is a mess. In addition, the economy is weak, the job market tough, the taxes confiscatory, the regulations crippling, the interest rates exorbitant, and the competition fierce (especially because of those evil foreigners who pay unfairly low wages). And if it weren’t difficult enough to survive in this environment, everybody demands extraordinary results. The blamer never tires of reciting his tune, “Life is not fair!

Children.” Westcliff’s sardonic voice caused them both to look at him blankly. He was standing from his chair and stretching underused muscles. “I’m afraid this has gone on long enough for me. You are welcome to continue playing, but I beg to take leave.” “But who will arbitrate?” Daisy protested. “Since no one has been keeping score for at least a half hour,” the earl said dryly, “there is no further need for my judgement.” “Yes we have,” Daisy argued, and turned to Swift. “What is the score?” “I don’t know.” As their gazes held, Daisy could hardly restrain a snicker of sudden embarrassment. Amusement glittered in Swift’s eyes. “I think you won,” he said. “Oh, don’t condescend to me,” Daisy said. “You’re ahead. I can take a loss. It’s part of the game.” “I’m not being condescending. It’s been point-for-point for at least…” Swift fumbled in the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a watch. “…two hours.” “Which means that in all likelihood you preserved your early lead.” “But you chipped away at it after the third round—” “Oh, hell’s bells!” came Lillian’s voice from the sidelines. She sounded thoroughly aggravated, having gone into the manor for a nap and come out to find them still at the bowling green. “You’ve quarreled all afternoon like a pair of ferrets, and now you’re fighting over who won. If someone doesn’t put a stop to it, you’ll be squabbling out here ‘til midnight. Daisy, you’re covered with dust and your hair is a bird’s nest. Come inside and put yourself to rights. Now.” “There’s no need to shout,” Daisy replied mildly, following her sister’s retreating figure. She glanced over her shoulder at Matthew Swift…a friendlier glance than she had ever given him before, then turned and quickened her pace. Swift began to pick up the wooden bowls. “Leave them,” Westcliff said. “The servants will put things in order. Your time is better spent preparing yourself for supper, which will commence in approximately one hour.” Obligingly Matthew dropped the bowls and went toward the house with Westcliff. He watched Daisy’s small, sylphlike form until she disappeared from sight. Westcliff did not miss Matthew’s fascinated gaze. “You have a unique approach to courtship,” he commented. “I wouldn’t have thought beating Daisy at lawn games would catch her interest, but it seems to have done the trick.” Matthew contemplated the ground before his feet, schooling his tone into calm unconcern. “I’m not courting Miss Bowman.” “Then it seems I misinterpreted your apparent passion for bowls.” Matthew shot him a defensive glance. “I’ll admit, I find her entertaining. But that doesn’t mean I want to marry her.” “The Bowman sisters are rather dangerous that way. When one of them first attracts your interest, all you know is she’s the most provoking creature you’ve ever encountered. But then you discover that as maddening as she is, you can scarcely wait until the next time you see her. Like the progression of an incurable disease, it spreads from one organ to the next. The craving begins. All other women begin to seem colorless and dull in comparison. You want her until you think you’ll go mad from it. You can’t stop thinking—” “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Matthew interrupted, turning pale. He was not about to succumb to an incurable disease. A man had choices in life. And no matter what Westcliff believed, this was nothing more than a physical urge. An unholy powerful, gut-wrenching, insanity-producing physical urge…but it could be conquered by sheer force of will. “If you say so,” Westcliff said, sounding unconvinced.

Two opinion pieces written by local author Catherine Lim in The Straits Times in 1994 were good examples of the political climate in the early years of Goh’s administration. The first article was titled “The PAP and the People: A Great Affective Divide.” Her thesis was that while the people of Singapore recognized the effective job the party did in running Singapore and providing for its prosperity, many of them did not like their leaders very much. For instance, on National Day, many Singaporeans did not fly the national flag because of the close connection between it and the PAP. Somehow flying the flag indicated you were a PAP supporter or liked the party, which in many minds was different from respecting what the leaders had done. In her second article, Lim questioned whether any significant political change had taken place with the handover of power from Lee Kuan Yew to Goh Chok Tong. She argued that the large salary increase for government officials that had been approved was an example of the continuing top-down style of government. In a way, the government’s response to these articles proved her correct. Its immediate reaction was to state that local writers had no business being involved in political issues. If they wanted to do so, they should join a political party and not give opinions from the sidelines. The argument was the same one used almost a decade earlier against the law society and against the churches. While there had been an attempt to obtain more feedback from people, there was still a deep feeling among PAP leaders that public political debate must be limited. Even in the mid-1990s, there was still a belief that too broad a discourse would threaten Singapore’s success.

Passivity is one of the main enemies of biblical masculinity and it’s most obvious where it’s needed most. It’s a pattern of waiting on the sidelines until you’re specifically asked to step in. Even worse than that, it can be a pattern of trying to duck out of responsibilities or to run away from challenges. Men who think conflict should be avoided, or who refuse to engage with those who would harm the body of Christ or their family, not only model passivity but fail in their responsibilities as protectors. Running to the battle means routinely taking a step toward the challenge — not away from it. Instead of running and hiding, it means running into the burning building or into any other situation that requires courage and/or strength. It means having a burden of awareness and consistently asking yourself, “Is there any testosterone needed in this situation?” That doesn’t mean being a fool who just rushes in, but simply being a leader with the instinct to go where the need is. So show leadership, protection and provision in your family, work, church, and community by consistently moving toward the action. Demonstrate your availability by consistently asking those you encounter, “Do you need anything?” Watch for needs and challenges in whatever situation you’re in and cultivate a habit of running to the battle. Keep your head Whether it was a bear attacking his sheep, Goliath looming in the distance, Saul hurling a spear at him or any other crisis David faced, he moved toward the action with calm resolve. He didn’t panic. He was a man of action and engagement. When there is a crisis, leaders don’t panic. Crisis reveals character and capacity. This is the point when true leaders are distinguished from others. So keep your head. Be anxious for nothing (Phil 4:6-7). Time is wasted while you panic. Just step forward. Be unflappable and resilient.

When speaking to groups, I explain that being dyslexic is like running a 100-meter track race. In my lane I have hurdles, but no one else does. I have this feeling that it's unfair that I’m the only one with hurdles but don’t know how to explain it. Soon the feeling leaves me as the starting gun shoots and I take off running. I try running like the other classmates, because we have all had the same education on how to run. But then I hit the first hurdle and fall flat on my face. My parents and teachers are yelling at me from the sidelines “ try harder, the other kids are making it down the track ok, you must be lazy or slow”. Pulling myself up I try running faster and fall even harder after hitting the next hurdle. Then someone takes the time to show me how to run hurdles and like an Olympic hurdler, I outrun the other classmates. The key, though, is that I have to do it differently, the way that works best for me. Learning is like a tailored suit; it takes a while and is unique to everyone.

For TOO LONG you have allowed the past to affect you! For TOO LONG you have taken personally what others say about you! For TOO LONG you have stood on the sidelines watching others thrive! For TOO MANY NIGHTS you have gone to bed worrying about what may be. For TOO LONG you have held a fear in your heart. For TOO LONG you have settled for second best!! NOW is the time to awaken! NOW is the time to shine! NOW is the time to ACCEPT that you are DIVINE!! This is my message for you - allow it to touch the deepest parts of your being - to help you awaken to the truth - that you do deserve to live a GREAT life - and whatever that means for you!

Kristen had dreamed of having children since she was herself a child and had always thought that she would love motherhood as much as she would love her babies. “I know that being a mom will be demanding,” she told me once. “But I don’t think it will change me much. I’ll still have my life, and our baby will be part of it.” She envisioned long walks through the neighborhood with Emily. She envisioned herself mastering the endlessly repeating three-hour cycle of playing, feeding, sleeping, and diaper changing. Most of all, she envisioned a full parenting partnership, in which I’d help whenever I was home—morning, nighttime, and weekends. Of course, I didn’t know any of this until she told me, which she did after Emily was born. At first, the newness of parenthood made it seem as though everything was going according to our expectations. We’ll be up all day and all night for a few weeks, but then we’ll hit our stride and our lives will go back to normal, plus one baby. Kristen took a few months off from work to focus all of her attention on Emily, knowing that it would be hard to juggle the contradicting demands of an infant and a career. She was determined to own motherhood. “We’re still in that tough transition,” Kristen would tell me, trying to console Emily at four A.M. “Pretty soon, we’ll find our routine. I hope.” But things didn’t go as we had planned. There were complications with breast-feeding. Emily wasn’t gaining weight; she wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t play. She was born in December, when it was far too cold to go for walks outdoors. While I was at work, Kristen would sit on the floor with Emily in the dark—all the lights off, all the shades closed—and cry. She’d think about her friends, all of whom had made motherhood look so easy with their own babies. “Mary had no problem breast-feeding,” she’d tell me. “Jenny said that these first few months had been her favorite. Why can’t I get the hang of this?” I didn’t have any answers, but still I offered solutions, none of which she wanted to hear: “Talk to a lactation consultant about the feeding issues.” “Establish a routine and stick to it.” Eventually, she stopped talking altogether. While Kristen struggled, I watched from the sidelines, unaware that she needed help. I excused myself from the nighttime and morning responsibilities, as the interruptions to my daily schedule became too much for me to handle. We didn’t know this was because of a developmental disorder; I just looked incredibly selfish. I contributed, but not fully. I’d return from work, and Kristen would go upstairs to sleep for a few hours while I’d carry Emily from room to room, gently bouncing her as I walked, trying to keep her from crying. But eventually eleven o’clock would roll around and I’d go to bed, and Kristen would be awake the rest of the night with her. The next morning, I would wake up and leave for work, while Kristen stared down the barrel of another day alone. To my surprise, I grew increasingly disappointed in her: She wanted to have children. Why is she miserable all the time? What’s her problem? I also resented what I had come to recognize as our failing marriage. I’d expected our marriage to be happy, fulfilling, overflowing with constant affection. My wife was supposed to be able to handle things like motherhood with aplomb. Kristen loved me, and she loved Emily, but that wasn’t enough for me. In my version of a happy marriage, my wife would also love the difficulties of being my wife and being a mom. It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d have to earn the happiness, the fulfillment, the affection. Nor had it occurred to me that she might have her own perspective on marriage and motherhood.

Twenty unsettling minutes later she dropped the pen on her stack of papers, and then leaned back in her chair. The time seemed to be dragging like a immobile car without tires hooked to a tow-truck with square wheels traveling cautiously down a road of fresh gravel. Tess struggled to maintain focus, similar to how an alternator belt would struggle if it had to try to keep traction on a turn spindle that had been lubricated after an antifreeze leak. And similar to the—would be—alternator on the sidelines of that metaphor, Tess’s enthusiasm for her after hours work was having difficulty in keeping charged up also.

You're where you wanted to be, aren't you? So you're taking a few blows. That's the price for being in the arena and not on the sidelines. Stop complaining and be grateful." That

Again with the us. My heart beat a little faster. How many times had I dreamed of being one of the chosen few? To be truly accepted by the in crowd instead of sitting on the sidelines of my own life?

Children.” Westcliff’s sardonic voice caused them both to look at him blankly. He was standing from his chair and stretching underused muscles. “I’m afraid this has gone on long enough for me. You are welcome to continue playing, but I beg to take leave.” “But who will arbitrate?” Daisy protested. “Since no one has been keeping score for at least a half hour,” the earl said dryly, “there is no further need for my judgement.” “Yes we have,” Daisy argued, and turned to Swift. “What is the score?” “I don’t know.” As their gazes held, Daisy could hardly restrain a snicker of sudden embarrassment. Amusement glittered in Swift’s eyes. “I think you won,” he said. “Oh, don’t condescend to me,” Daisy said. “You’re ahead. I can take a loss. It’s part of the game.” “I’m not being condescending. It’s been point-for-point for at least…” Swift fumbled in the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a watch. “…two hours.” “Which means that in all likelihood you preserved your early lead.” “But you chipped away at it after the third round—” “Oh, hell’s bells!” came Lillian’s voice from the sidelines. She sounded thoroughly aggravated, having gone into the manor for a nap and come out to find them still at the bowling green. “You’ve quarreled all afternoon like a pair of ferrets, and now you’re fighting over who won. If someone doesn’t put a stop to it, you’ll be squabbling out here ’til midnight. Daisy, you’re covered with dust and your hair is a bird’s nest. Come inside and put yourself to rights. Now.” “There’s no need to shout,” Daisy replied mildly, following her sister’s retreating figure. She glanced over her shoulder at Matthew Swift…a friendlier glance than she had ever given him before, then turned and quickened her pace. Swift began to pick up the wooden bowls. “Leave them,” Westcliff said. “The servants will put things in order. Your time is better spent preparing yourself for supper, which will commence in approximately one hour.” Obligingly Matthew dropped the bowls and went toward the house with Westcliff. He watched Daisy’s small, sylphlike form until she disappeared from sight. Westcliff did not miss Matthew’s fascinated gaze. “You have a unique approach to courtship,” he commented. “I wouldn’t have thought beating Daisy at lawn games would catch her interest, but it seems to have done the trick.” Matthew contemplated the ground before his feet, schooling his tone into calm unconcern. “I’m not courting Miss Bowman.” “Then it seems I misinterpreted your apparent passion for bowls.” Matthew shot him a defensive glance. “I’ll admit, I find her entertaining. But that doesn’t mean I want to marry her.” “The Bowman sisters are rather dangerous that way. When one of them first attracts your interest, all you know is she’s the most provoking creature you’ve ever encountered. But then you discover that as maddening as she is, you can scarcely wait until the next time you see her. Like the progression of an incurable disease, it spreads from one organ to the next. The craving begins. All other women begin to seem colorless and dull in comparison. You want her until you think you’ll go mad from it. You can’t stop thinking—” “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Matthew interrupted, turning pale. He was not about to succumb to an incurable disease. A man had choices in life. And no matter what Westcliff believed, this was nothing more than a physical urge. An unholy powerful, gut-wrenching, insanity-producing physical urge…but it could be conquered by sheer force of will. “If you say so,” Westcliff said, sounding unconvinced.

The difference between being a church attender and a church member is commitment. Attenders are spectators from the sidelines; members get involved in the ministry. Attenders are consumers; members are contributors. Attenders want the benefits of a church without sharing the responsibility. They are like couples who want to live together without committing to a marriage.

No serious religious path gives anyone a pass on addressing the suffering of other sentient beings. The idea that we can leave politics out of our conceptualization of our spiritual journey is an outdated concept, because politics is simply the journey we take together. We can’t transform our country without transforming our politics, and that we can do only by participating. Standing on the sidelines is not an option for a conscious seeker, or for a conscious citizen. Too much blood and too much suffering result from an unconscious politics for those of us who claim to be on the journey of higher consciousness to ignore. We must take a fundamental step forward in re-creating the world from the inside out. “Love each other” is not just a prescription for personal salvation; it is a prescription for political renewal as well.

Benefits of Smart Watch Fitness Band Have you been so busy in- hustle hard in life that your health is getting sidelined? Yes! Then your smart lifestyle needs smart choices like a fitness band on your wrist. Incorporate your health with daily activities and monitor your fitness level. Today these bands are filled with exciting features like step count, heart rate, sleep meter, calories burn etc. –these small wearable gadgets have made tracking your fitness easier than ever, helping you lead a healthier and fitter life. So let’s come down to the benefits of fitness bands. Why it’s time to upgrade from simple watches to smart ones. Your all-Rounder Fitness Companion. Track and monitor almost all your activities like heart rate, calories burn, step counts, blood pressure meter etc. HAMMER’s fitness trackers include all these features along with automatic sleep status monitoring. It will tell your sleep time, awake time, deepness and lightness of sleep. Basically it will give you all the data you need to make informed decisions about your health. You can alter your habits accordingly and lead a better lifestyle. Hammer Pulse Smart Watch for Body Temperature Daily Visual Progress of your Hard Work Smart Watch fitness bands can help you track numerous activities throughout the day. Seeing results of your effort is instant motivation booster. It motivates you to do more. With an LED Color HD display it shows you how much active you have been throughout the day. On days when laziness takes a toll on you– it reminds you to workout and be active. It helps you to push a little harder than before and excel in your workout regimes! Can be as Tough as you They are waterproof and dust resistant which makes it suitable for intense training as it won’t slip because of sweating and can be easily cleaned after workout sessions. They can be switched into different modes like freestyle walking, running, swimming and much more as per your requirements. Sweat in Style Who said you can’t train hard in style? Fashionable and light as feather design built, available in color varieties sets easily on your wrist. Either trendy sports wear or formals these fitness trackers just never go out of style. Hey, what’s up? Stay updated Just Synchronize your phone with your fitness band and receive phone calls, messages, notifications or share your progress on social media or with friends. Hammer Pulse Smart Watch Get set and go ! No matter how long your day was- they won’t ditch you. Lasts up to 24-36 hours after one charge. Hammer Pulse smart watchhas gone an extra mile and gives 7 Days battery backup with wireless charging . No wire No worry! No need to Squeak or Squeal, Pocket Friendly Price Gone are those days when you had to compromise on some features as per your price range. HAMMER offers all the features in products at really affordable prices. You get more at less here – witches say it’s to grab the deal magical prices. Health is Priority! smart watch for body temperature In these times when being healthy should be our priority. HAMMER has launched a new unisex smart watch Hammer Pulse which is best of both – a fashionable watch and an ultimate fitness tracker. It is packed with all the features of fitness band and unique features like ● Body temperature monitor ● oxygen saturation level monitor ● Weather updates ● Multiple sports modes ● IP67 waterproof- don’t be afraid to get wet. ● 24/7 monitor, vibrates and alert when any irregularities or abnormality is detected. So what are you waiting for? Get the benefits of a fitness tracker today and start working towards your dream body. You want it, you get it here at HAMMER. Browse, Shop and add a healthy addition to your daily life. Up your game and get your hands on one of these today !

I was crushed. Here I was, forty-two years old, divorced, childless, having given up all normal human pursuits to chase the dream of being a writer; now I've finally got my name on a big-time Hollywood production starring Linda Hamilton, and what happens? I'm a loser, a phony; my life is worthless, and so am I. My friend Tony Keppelman snapped me out of it by asking if I was gonna quit. Hell, no! "Then be happy. You're where you wanted to be, aren't you? So you're taking a few blows. That's the price for being in the arena and not on the sidelines. Stop complaining and be grateful." That was when I realized I had become a pro. I had not yet had a success. But I had had a real failure.

One of the worst places to be, is on “no man’s land” where you are between a rock and a hard place. It is better for you to be cold than to be lukewarm. It is better for you to decide to fail than to stay on the sidelines and dream of great success. How long will you stand between two opinions?

In order to have a family life and a career, women must move twice as fast to arrive at the same place. Rather than being assisted with this unlikely feat--say, via paid parental leave, accelerator programs at work, or partners willing to sideline their own careers for a few years--women are scolded, told they should have found a boyfriend in college, had a baby by twenty-seven.

At Oaktree, we strongly reject the idea of waiting for the bottom to start buying. First, there’s absolutely no way to know when the bottom has been reached. There’s no neon sign that lights up. The bottom can be recognized only after it has been passed, since it is defined as the day before the recovery begins. By definition, this can be identified only after the fact. And second, it’s usually during market slides that you can buy the largest quantities of the thing you want, from sellers who are throwing in the towel and while the non-knife-catchers are hugging the sidelines. But once the slide has culminated in a bottom, by definition there are few sellers left to sell, and during the ensuing rally it’s buyers who predominate. Thus the selling dries up and would-be buyers face growing competition. We began to buy distressed debt immediately after Lehman filed for bankruptcy protection in mid-September 2008 as described on page 235, and we continued through year-end, as prices went lower and lower. By the first quarter of 2009, other investors had collected themselves, caught on to the values that were available, and gathered some capital for investment. But with the motivated sellers done selling and buying having begun, it was too late for them to buy in size without pushing up prices. Like so many other things in the investment world that might be tried on the basis of certitude and precision, waiting for the bottom to start buying is a great example of folly. So if targeting the bottom is wrong, when should you buy? The answer’s simple: when price is below intrinsic value. What if the price continues downward? Buy more, as now it’s probably an even greater bargain. All you need for ultimate success in this regard is (a) an estimate of intrinsic value, (b) the emotional fortitude to persevere, and (c) eventually to have your estimate of value proved correct.

Your goal with Ham-it-up Histrionics is to keep from being drawn into their drama. This is difficult.At first, they’ll treat you as if you were the most wonderful person on earth. They may compare you with other people who have been mean, cruel, unappreciative, unmotivated, or whatever. Let the fact that their world is filled with good guys and bad guys alert you before you step into their fantasy. If you let them down, you can easily be transferred from one group to the other. If you pass up the flattery, you can avoid emotional turmoil later on. Your best bet is to write yourself a role that allows you to stand on the sidelines and just watch the show. Avoid the impulse to become a critic, because sooner or later, that will turn the spotlight on you.

Senior adults are probably not as averse to worship change as they are to feeling marginalized through those changes. It seems to them that their opinions are no longer needed or considered and their convictions are discounted as antiquated. I can imagine that some seniors view change as something that separates what was from what will be. It appears that the price paid through their years of blood, sweat, tears, and tithes is now being used to build a wall that will sideline or keep them out completely.

When God creates a life, He has an intention for that life. When He created you, He did so with intention. God doesn’t make mistakes. He is sovereign over everything, including the creation of life. This means that nothing comes to you that does not pass through God’s fingers first—including your very existence. When God created you, He sovereignly chose where you would be born, who you would be, and what His purpose for your life would be. That does not mean that everyone always achieves God’s destiny for their lives. Many do not seek Him, trust Him, or pursue His purpose in their lives. But God created everyone with a destiny that would blow their minds if they only knew what God wanted them to do. Unfortunately, people often get hung up on things that appear to make no sense. They get stuck trying to figure out why bad things happen to good people. They fall into a rut of doubt or self-pity because they have lost sight of their destiny. Without a strong faith in God’s sovereignty, we can easily get sidelined and distracted from what God has put us here to do. Keep in mind that believing in God’s sovereignty does not mean you believe He causes everything in your life. Rather, it means that God either causes or allows everything in your life. And if He allows it, He can use it. Trusting in His sovereignty means trusting that He can cause everything to work for your good—even the confusing and hurtful things—if you choose to love Him and respond to Him in the calling of your destiny. You are not a mistake. You were made on purpose for a purpose. Embrace that truth and start living in light of it.

Seasoned leaders rarely regret having taken risks. Even the risks that didn’t pay off directly are viewed as a necessary part of the journey. A leader’s regrets generally revolve around missed opportunities, not risks taken. Many of those missed opportunities would not have been missed had they been willing to push through their fear and embrace what could be. Fear, not a lack of good ideas, is usually what keeps a man or woman standing on the sidelines.

Be proactive. Passivity is a poison. Avoid it like the plague. Actively participate in life. You are not a bystander standing on the sidelines of life. Get in the game and go for the goal. Choose what you will do with your life. Choose what you will do with your time. What will you do? What will you watch, read, accomplish, and become? Accomplishment is a result of action. Act the part. Don’t pretend or put on a façade. Don’t wait. Don’t pause. Don’t hesitate. Go. Be. Do. Accomplish. Get it done. ACT. ACT NOW!

Consumers can now scan the code on the product when they are running low, and it will be ordered and delivered within hours to their home, completely side-lining all the tools and techniques of competing manufacturers who would wish to get the consumer to brand switch. Tesco’s Homeplus in South Korea also launched a campaign that engages shoppers to buy products using QR codes. Homeplus created virtual billboards of their store aisles in subway stations, allowing passengers to shop while they waited by scanning the products’ QR codes – the groceries being delivered when they arrived home. The goal of the campaign was to help Homeplus compete with the number-one retailer, E-MART, without increasing their store numbers. Since the launch, their online sales have increased 130%, making them the top online retailer in South Korea, and a close second offline.

After the battle ended and the Union army was in rapid retreat, Beauregard stated sardonically that had Richmond dispatched adequate supplies to the Confederate armies, he would have been able to pursue the Union army all the way to Washington, implying that Davis had short-changed his troops and cost the Confederates an even greater victory. In his official report, which made its way into the newspapers, Beauregard suggested that Davis had prevented the pursuit and destruction of McDowell's army, as well as the potential capture of Washington D.C. itself.  This only added to the animosity Davis already felt toward the celebrity-seeking general, and it would eventually lead to Beauregard being sidelined during the middle of the war.

By nature, we want to be liked. We want to be accepted. But, most of the time, we allow our worth to be decided by the people on the sidelines. By people that see snapshots of our life but have no clue what the whole picture looks like.

My friend Tony Keppelman snapped me out of it by asking if I was gonna quit. Hell, no! "Then be happy. You're where you wanted to be, aren't you? So you're taking a few blows. That's the price for being in the arena and not on the sidelines. Stop complaining and be grateful.

Friends could just be the opening bid,” she whispered, feeling the heat rush into her cheeks. It felt forward to say the words, but she didn’t want him to think she’d sidelined him because of his looks. Damn, but she wasn’t good at this stuff. “Sorry?” he asked in that superior, aloof voice he must have perfected at U.Va. “I’m not calling at friends.” He turned to her slightly. “Are you speaking in poker metaphors, or am I going crazy?” Her lips trembled as she tried not to giggle. The whole conversation had become absurd. “Am I meant to raise?” he teased. “Just don’t fold,” she said, smiling now, realizing how much she liked being with him, despite how he looked, despite the fact that he’d barely been out of his house in eight years. She liked him.

As it turned out, Moss and the Patriots were hotter than the game-time temperature of 84 degrees. They ran the Jets off the field in a 38–14 rout highlighted by Moss’s 51-yard touchdown against triple coverage and 183 receiving yards on nine catches. “He was born to play football,” Brady said of his newest and most lethal weapon. The quarterback had it all now. He was getting serious with his relatively new girlfriend, Brazilian supermodel Gisele Bündchen (his ex-girlfriend, actress Bridget Moynahan, had just given birth to their son, Jack), and now he was being paired on the field with a perfect partner of a different kind. Brady wasn’t seeing the Oakland Randy Moss. He was seeing the Minnesota Moss, the vintage Moss, the 6´4˝ receiver who ran past defenders and jumped over them with ease. Brady had all day to throw to Moss and Welker, who caught the first of the quarterback’s three touchdown passes. He wasn’t sacked while posting a quarterback rating of 146.6, his best in nearly five years. Man, this was a great day for the winning coach all around. On the other sideline, Eric Mangini had made a big mistake by sticking with his quarterback, Chad Pennington, a former teammate of Moss’s at Marshall, when the outcome was no longer in doubt, subjecting his starter to some unnecessary hits as he played on an injured ankle. Pennington was annoyed enough to pull himself from the game with 6:51 left and New England leading by 17. “That was the first time I’ve ever done that,” Pennington said. Mangini played the fool on this Sunday, and Belichick surely got the biggest kick out of that. But the losing coach actually won a game within the game in the first half that the overwhelming majority of people inside Giants Stadium knew absolutely nothing about. It had started in the days before this opener, when Mangini informed his former boss that the Jets would not tolerate in their own stadium an illegal yet common Patriots practice: the videotaping of opposing coaches’ signals from the sideline. The message to Belichick was simple: Don’t do it in our house. It was something of an open secret that New England had been illegally taping opposing coaches during games for some time, and yet the first public mention of improper spying involving Belichick’s Patriots actually assigned them the collective role of victim. Following a 21–0 Miami victory in December 2006, a couple of Dolphins told the Palm Beach Post that the team had “bought” past game tapes that included audio of Brady making calls at the line, and that the information taken from those tapes had helped them shut out Brady and sack him four times. “I’ve never seen him so flustered,” said Miami linebacker Zach Thomas.

We must walk into the arena, whatever it may be—a new relationship, an important meeting, our creative process, or a difficult family conversation—with courage and the willingness to engage. Rather than sitting on the sidelines and hurling judgment and advice, we must dare to show up and let ourselves be seen.

Despite how crowded it might be, you can always find a seat on the sidelines of life. However, not all empty seats should be sat in.

Paul tells the bride in Ephesians 6:10-12 that her enemies are 'not...flesh and blood,' but the unseen spiritual forces of evil and darkness. She is called to arm herself for battle, to 'be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power,' and to 'stand firm'--all of which convery 'unflinching courage like that possessed by soldiers who determinedly refuse to leave their posts irrespective of how severely the battle rages.' Both brides represent an unmistakable call to action. They give us powerful feminine images of strong, open-throttled living for God's kingdom, which makes it difficult to imagine that God wants his daughters to sit on the sidelines while our brothers do kingdom work without us.

My friend Tony Keppelman snapped me out of it by asking if I was gonna quit. Hell, no! "Then be happy. You're where you wanted to be, aren't you? So you're taking a few blows. That's the price for being in the arena and not on the sidelines. Stop complaining and be grateful." That was when I realized I had become a pro. I had not yet had a success. But I had had a real failure. FOR LOVE OF THE GAME

That’s when I learned Kellen was a restless sleeper and not someone to share a bed with. Abusive to the extreme in his sleep. He moves around like he dreams of being a steamroller, and I’m the uneven bump he needs to flatten out.

It’s only in faerie tales that everything works out for the best with a magik spell or a prince’s kiss. It’s only in storybooks some little bastard picks up a sword and wields it like he was born to it. The rest of us? We have to work our arses off. And we might not ever taste triumph, but at least we dared to fail. We stand apart from those cowards whispering on the sidelines about how the strong did stumble, while never daring to set foot in the ring themselves. Victors are just folk who were never satisfied being vanquished. The only thing worse than finishing last is not beginning at all. And fuck finishing

When I was choosing between things I wanted to do myself instead of accepting things that people would like me to do for them or being forced to in a role, job, or department. A lot of my friends, colleagues and so many people above me drove me towards fear. Fear of What if, if things won't work out your way, if you don't make money what you are making now then how or you will be sidelined or you have challenges in front of you which are impossible to address when you choose your own path your way and whatnot. But I was telling myself what if things work out my way because I choose for myself the path I am creating for myself. and If I am able to make it myself with all my dedication, hard work, knowledge, and abilities then what if things work out and result in creating your own career that you like and love from your inside. There was silence in the room among the people because no one has ever chosen for themselves anything but rather they have taken what others have given them. So there was no answer for these questions arising out of myself to take a leap of faith. Now writing these things here have a purpose, a purpose for the people who dream, people who want to become real, and people who want to control their lives and outcomes. Fear creates an illusion in the minds which has no reality or existence, If fear would have existed in reality then why didn't it show up when I was holding the mic in front of the audience I was speaking to and until I wasn't on stage speaking to the people out there it was there but once I took charge of myself to deliver something to the people there was no fear. It was me and the people with the message. "CONQUER YOURSELF

The totalitarian regimes of the 20th century give us the starkest examples of such insanity. Stalin persecuted genetics researchers in the 1930s and ostentatiously praised the scientist Trofim Lysenko when he claimed that genetics was a “bourgeois perversion” and geneticists were “saboteurs”. The resulting crop failures killed millions. For an encore, Stalin ordered the killing of the statistician in charge of the 1937 census, Olimpiy Kvitkin. Kvitkin’s crime was that his census revealed a fall in population as a result of that famine. Telling that truth could not be forgiven. In May, the great crop scientist Yuan Longping died at the age of 90. He led the research effort to develop the hybrid rice crops that now feed billions of people. Yet in 1966, he too came very close to being killed as a counter-revolutionary during China’s cultural revolution. In western democracies we do things differently. Governments do not execute scientists; they sideline them. Late last year, Undark magazine interviewed eight former US government scientists who had left their posts in frustration or protest at the obstacles placed in their way under the presidency of Donald Trump. Then there are the random acts of hostility on the street and the death threats on social media. I have seen Twitter posts demanding that certain statisticians be silenced or hunted down and destroyed, sometimes for doing no more than publishing graphs of Covid-19 cases and hospitalisations. Even when this remains at the level of ugly intimidation, it is horrible to hear about and must be far worse to experience. It is not something we should expect a civil servant, a vaccine researcher or a journalist to have to endure. And it would be complacent to believe that the threats are always empty.

Clumsy at first, from generations of sitting on the sidelines, we stumble until we find the rhythm. We know these steps from deep memory, handed down from Skywoman, reclaiming our responsibility as cocreators. Here in a homemade forest, poets, writers, scientists, foresters, shovels, seeds, elk, and alder join in the circle with Mother Cedar, dancing the old-growth children into being. We’re all invited. Pick up a shovel and join the dance.

Strange things are happening in the Celestial Kingdom: unexpected shifts in power, loyal and trusted advisors being sidelined. Change is on the horizon, and not for the better.

In truth Rae thought this safer than risking expanding the conversation, which might reveal her utter disappointment that her friend’s concern appeared to be how the situation might affect Dolly, and not its impact on Rae – that, seemingly, her wants and needs were again being sidelined.

Don't languish on the side lines in life.

Being in love fucking sucked.

I need to get in touch with the real me, the person I used to be, who felt she could climb a mountain, touch the sky or swim an ocean. She didn’t die the day she got married. She got side-lined, that was all. She’s still here inside, waiting to unfurl her wings.

If it's not your fight, it's a little easier to ignore how hard someone alongside you is fighting.

The other thing about online harassment is that when it's happening to you, it's all you can talk about and think about. You feel like you're standing, naked and exposed in the center of a circle of people who are yelling and screaming insults at you. But the rest of the world doesn't notice.

Harassment is, in the end, about silencing women, which is why we get much more of it when we take a stand on certain issues than when we read sports scores.

When resources are scare for women, they often compete with each other instead of focusing attention on the patriarchal systems that keep them from getting what they need.

I'm angry I'm expected to accept online harassment as the price of being a woman with an opinion. My life, my words, and my actions are put under a magnifying glass. Every day I see my words scrutinized, twisted, and distorted by thousands of men hell-bent on destroying me and silencing me.

Anger is really associated with the idea that you can control things in a way that sadness isn't. Crying is clearly associated with sadness, but sadness is not a control emotion. it's a retreat emotion.

For the most part, we do our jobs, day after day, keeping our mouths shut while we watch very flawed men in both sports and media elevated to the role of demigods in our sports-obsessed culture.

In sports radio, being loud and confident in your opinion is often confused with being good at your job. If you're a man, that is.

Often we are perceived as less feminine if we "fight back.