Stadium Best Quotes

I've never been lonely. I've been in a room -- I've felt suicidal. I've been depressed. I've felt awful -- awful beyond all -- but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me...or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I've never been bothered with because I've always had this terrible itch for solitude. It's being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I'll quote Ibsen, "The strongest men are the most alone." I've never thought, "Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and give me a fuck-job, rub my balls, and I'll feel good." No, that won't help. You know the typical crowd, "Wow, it's Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?" Well, yeah. Because there's nothing out there. It's stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I've never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn't want to hide in factories. That's all. Sorry for all the millions, but I've never been lonely. I like myself. I'm the best form of entertainment I have. Let's drink more wine!

Apparently she was beyond words so she pushed the card into his hands. He looked down. Blinked. Blinked again before stumbling back into a chair. Did he just wet himself? Ah, who cared? He was holding four tickets to the Yankees vs. Red Sox at Yankee Stadium for this Friday and they were without a doubt the best seats in the stadium. His eyes shifted from Haley to the tickets and back again before he made a split second decision and made a run for it. He didn’t make it five feet before his little grasshopper tackled him to the ground and ripped the card from his hands. He spit grass out of his mouth. “Fine. You can come with me I guess,” he said, earning a knee to the ribs.

As much as I would really like to have saved myself heartache, embarrassment or gossip, I also know that my biggest mistakes have turned into my best lessons. And sometimes my greatest career triumphs. If my life had been turbulence-free, maybe my music would be beige, maybe the stadiums wouldn’t be full and the mantle would be a little more empty.

The pageant and football pull this little town out of itself and turn it into something more. Because when those stadium lights are on or when that curtain parts, we are the best version of ourselves.

If you're wondering what's wrong with Fenway Park in the first place, you're not the only one. Fenway is special precisely because it has what modern stadiums lack: seats that, while often cramped, offer the best views in baseball; and the sense that, if you squint, that could be Smoky Joe Wood pitching to Ty Cobb out there instead of Jeff Fassero and Bobby Higginson.

Linked together as a team with one goal, we soon realized we were only as strong as our weakest link. But did we condemn the weaker member? That wouldn’t serve any purpose. Instead, the stronger guys responded by carrying more weight than the weaker teammate. Encouragement was key in reaching the top of the stadium, standing as one. Sometimes one person on your team may not be as strong as another. Strengths usually differ. Likewise, in an encounter with another, someone may have a different set of beliefs or ideas.To accomplish any goal, embracing the strengths and weaknesses of each member and compensating where necessary are the best ways to make it to the top.

I would tell him what it felt like to stand in that stadium and watch Jesse Owens beat Adolf Hitler’s best runners to win the gold medal. And then, what it felt like, afterward, to interview the son of black sharecroppers from Alabama knowing that he had just changed the world. I would tell him about standing in the shadow of the Hindenburg as it passed over the field.

He was large enough and round enough to join the solar system with no questions asked. The cigar that protruded from the right side of his mouth would have been a full day's work for the best torcedor in Havana, and if he was worried about the stadium being a smoke-free location, he gave no sign of it. Gave no sign, in fact, of ever being worried about much of anything.

It happened to me. And I'll never forget it. Back when I was in the sixth grade, my whole family went out to go watch a baseball game at the stadium. I didn't really care about baseball, but I was surprised by what I saw when we got there. Everywhere I looked, I saw people. On the other side of the stadium, the people looked so small, like little moving grains of rice. It was so crowded. I thought that everyone in Japan had to be packed in there. So I turned to my dad and asked him, "Do you know how many people are here right now"? He said since the stadium was full, probably fifty thousand. After the game, the street was filled with people and I was really shocked to see that, too. To me, it seemed like there was a ton of people there. But then, I realized it could only be a tiny fraction of all the people in Japan. When I got home, I pulled out my calculator. In social studies, I'd learned that the population of Japan was a hundred some odd million. So I divided that by fifty thousand. The answer was one two-thousandth. That shocked me even more. I was only one little person in that big crowded stadium filled with people, and believe me, there were so many people there, but it was just a handful of the entire population. Up till then, I always thought that I was, I don't know, kind of a special person. It was fun to be with my family. I had fun with my classmates. And the school that I was going to, it had just about the most interesting people anywhere. But that night, I realized it wasn't true. All the stuff we did during class that I thought was so fun and cool, was probably happening just like that in classes in other schools all over Japan. There was nothing special about my school at all. When I realized that, it suddenly felt like the whole world around me started to fade into a dull gray void. Brushing my teeth and going to sleep at night, waking up and eating breakfast in the morning, that stuff happened all over the place. They were everyday things that everybody was doing. When I thought about it like that, everything became boring. If there's really that many people in the world, then there had to be someone who wasn't ordinary. There had to be someone who was living an interesting life. There just had to be. But why wasn't I that person? So, that's how I felt till I finished elementary school. And then I had another realization. I realized fun things wouldn't come my way just by waiting for them. I thought when I got into junior high, it was time for me to make a change. I'd let the world know I wasn't a girl who was happy sitting around waiting. And I've done my best to become that person. But in the end, nothing happened. More time went by and before I knew it, I was in high school. I thought that something would change.

we don’t hate violence. We hate and fear the wrong kind of violence, violence in the wrong context. Because violence in the right context is different. We pay good money to watch it in a stadium, we teach our kids to fight back, we feel proud when, in creaky middle age, we manage a dirty hip-check in a weekend basketball game. Our conversations are filled with military metaphors—we rally the troops after our ideas get shot down. Our sports teams’ names celebrate violence—Warriors, Vikings, Lions, Tigers, and Bears.

This is a central point of this book—we don’t hate violence. We hate and fear the wrong kind of violence, violence in the wrong context. Because violence in the right context is different. We pay good money to watch it in a stadium, we teach our kids to fight back, we feel proud when, in creaky middle age, we manage a dirty hip-check in a weekend basketball game. Our conversations are filled with military metaphors—we rally the troops after our ideas get shot down. Our sports teams’ names celebrate violence—Warriors, Vikings, Lions, Tigers, and Bears.

Neil felt a half-second from losing his mind, but then Andrew said his name and Neil's thoughts ground to a startled halt. He was belatedly aware of his hand at his ear and his fingers clenched tight around his phone. He didn't remember pulling it from his pocket or making the decision to dial out. He lowered it and tapped a button, thinking maybe he'd imagined things, but Andrew's name was on his display and the timer put the call at almost a minute already. Neil put the phone back to his ear, but he couldn't find the words for the wretched feeling that was tearing away at him. In three months championships would be over. In four months he'd be dead. In five months the Foxes would be right back here for summer practices with six new faces. Neil could count his life on one hand now. On the other hand was the future he couldn't have: vice-captain, captain, Court. Neil had no right to mourn these missed chances. He'd gotten more than he deserved this year; it was selfish to ask for more. He should be grateful for what he had, and gladder still that his death would mean something. He was going to drag his father and the Moriyamas down with him when he went, and they'd never recover from the things he said. It was justice when he'd never thought he'd get any and revenge for his mother's death. He thought he'd come to terms with it but that hollow ache was back in his chest where it had no right to be. Neil felt like he was drowning. Neil found his voice at last, but the best he had was, "Come and get me from the stadium." Andrew didn't answer, but the quiet took on a new tone. Neil checked the screen again and saw the timer flashing at seventy-two seconds. Andrew had hung up on him. Neil put his phone away and waited. It was only a couple minutes from Fox Tower to the Foxhole Court, but it took almost fifteen minutes for Andrew to turn into the parking lot. He pulled into the space a couple inches from Neil's left foot and didn't bother to kill the engine. Kevin was in the passenger seat, frowning silent judgment at Neil through the windshield. Andrew got out of the car when Neil didn't move and stood in front of Neil. Neil looked up at him, studying Andrew's bored expression and waiting for questions he knew wouldn't come. That apathy should have grated against his raw nerves but somehow it steadied him. Andrew's disinterest in his psychological well-being was what had drawn Neil to him in the first place: the realization that Andrew would never flinch away from whatever poison was eating Neil alive.

Ned and Mariel arrived at the stadium early, so he had time to relax amid the best artificial environment ever invented, and take in the aura. He knew people who felt that way about places like theaters and church, but to him, those settings were compromised by time and certainty. A play was never going to remove its most prominent actor halfway through act 1 due to ineffectiveness; a preacher would never crush the hopes of his flock and send them home disappointed a couple of Sundays a month. That’s why Ned loved baseball. It might break your heart, but you believed in it anyway. In a life of certainty, he cherished this elective relationship with peril.

Of all the baseball stadiums in the world, I like being in Jingu Stadium the best of all. In an infield seat behind first base, or in the right-field bleachers. I love all the sounds, the smells, the way I can sit there, just gazing up at the sky. I love the breeze caressing my skin, I love sipping an ice-cold beer, observing the people around me. Whether the team wins or loses, I love the time spent there most of all. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Of course, winning is much better than losing. No argument there. But winning or losing doesn’t affect the weight and value of the time. It’s the same time, either way. A minute is a minute, an hour is an hour. We need to cherish it. We need to deftly reconcile ourselves with time, and leave behind as many precious memories as we can— that’s what’s the most valuable.

Of all the baseball stadiums in the world, I like being in Jingu Stadium the best of all. In an infield seat behind first base, or in the right-field bleachers. I love all the sounds, the smells, the way I can sit there, just gazing up at the sky. I love the breeze caressing my skin, I love sipping an ice-cold beer, observing the people around me. Whether the team wins or loses, I love the time spent there most of all. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Of course, winning is much better than losing. No argument there. But winning or losing doesn’t affect the weight and value of the time. It’s the same time, either way. A minute is a minute, an hour is an hour. We need to cherish it. We need to deftly reconcile ourselves with time, and leave behind as many precious memories as we can— that’s what’s the most valuable." ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Aurora was romantic and brooding and heartbreaking and volatile all at once. In the age of arena rock, Daisy Jones & The Six managed to create something that felt intimate even though it could still play to a stadium. They had the impenetrable drums and the searing solos—they had songs that felt relentless in the best way possible. But the album also felt up close and personal. Billy and Daisy felt like they were right next to you, singing just to each other. “And it was deeply layered. That was the biggest thing Aurora had going for it. It sounds like a good-time album when you first listen to it. It’s an album you can play at a party. It’s an album you get high to. It’s an album you can play as you’re speeding down the highway. “But then you listen to the lyrics and you realize this is an album you can cry to. And it’s an album you can get laid to. “For every moment of your life, in 1978, Aurora could play in the background. “And from the moment it was released, it was a juggernaut.

I was a kid in Florida, in Sarasota, and the New York Giants trained in Sarasota. When teams would come, we’d stand outside the ballpark, and we would get the balls they hit over the fence during batting practice. We’d sell them to the tourists. And we made a stepladder so we could climb a pine tree out there. That way we could look into the ballpark. The Yanks were in town. I’m out there behind the fence, and I hear this sound. I’d never heard THAT sound off the bat before. Instead of me running to get the ball, I ran up the ladder to see who was hitting it. Well, it was a barrel-chested sucker, with skinny legs, with the best swing I’d ever seen. That was Babe Ruth hitting that ball. Yeah. I don’t hear that sound again until 1938, I’m with the Monarchs, we’re at Griffith Stadium in Washington D.C. We’re upstairs, changing clothes, and the Grays are taking batting practice. I’ve got nothing on but my jock. And I hear that sound. I ran down the runway, ran out on the field, and there’s a pretty black sucker with a big chest and about 34 in the waist, prettiest man I’d ever seen. That was Josh Gibson hitting that ball. And I don’t hear the sound again until I’m a scout with the Cubs. I’m scouting the Royals. When I opened the door to go downstairs, I heard that sound again. I rushed down on the field, and here’s another pretty black sucker hitting that ball. That was Bo Jackson. That’s three times I heard the sound. Three times. But I want to hear it a fourth. I go to the ballpark every day. I want to hear that sound again.

Ryogoku Kokugikan* Ryogoku, the largest sumo stadium in Japan with a capacity of 10,000 spectators, holds grand tournaments of basho in January, May and September. These magnificent 15-day long tournaments are filled with ceremonies and rituals that are as interesting as the wrestling matches themselves.   The competition begins around 9am each day, with amateur matches, and progress in order of seniority as the day continues.

Toll was smart and hard-working, but Ivar attracted the clients. Within a few years, Kreuger & Toll was regarded as the best building company in Sweden; a few years later, it was one of the top firms in Europe. Soon Kreuger & Toll was building major landmarks, including the stadium for the 1912 Stockholm Olympics and the renowned Stockholm City Hall, which many people considered the most beautiful building in Scandinavia. As the firm expanded, Ivar hired several employees, including Anders Jordahl and Krister Littorin, his closest friend from Tekniska Högskolan, the engineering school in Stockholm, who became the firm’s typist and messenger boy.

It’s not on any map, but it’s there. It’s invisible, but there it is. A barrier that makes the memory of the Berlin Wall look ridiculous: raised to separate those who have from those who need, it divides the globe into north and south, and draws borders within each country and within each city. When the south of the world commits the affront of scaling the walls and venturing where it shouldn’t, the north reminds it, with truncheons, of its proper place. And the same thing happens to those who attempt to leave the zones of the damned in each country and each city. Football, mirror of everything, reflects this reality. In the middle of the 1980s, when Napoli started playing the best football in Italy thanks to the magical influx of Maradona, fans in the north of the country reacted by unsheathing the old weapons of scorn. Neapolitans, usurpers of prohibited glory, were snatching trophies from the ever powerful, and it was time to punish the insolence of the intruding scum from the south. In the stadiums of Milan and Turin, banners insulted: ‘Neapolitans, welcome to Italy.’ Or they evoked cruelty: ‘Vesuvius, we’re counting on you.’ And chants that were the children of fear and the grandchildren of racism resounded more loudly than ever: What a stench, the dogs are running, all because the Neapolitans are coming. Oh cholerics buried by quake, you’ve never seen soap, not even a cake, Napoli shit, Napoli cholera, you’re the shame of all Italia.

Right’ was not how I would describe the AFL’s decision to play our final against Geelong at Skilled Stadium. It had always been our understanding that the venue for finals should be the best available stadium, in the home state of the higher-ranked team. But apparently this was a guideline rather than a rule and the AFL, no stranger to running an agenda that suited their objectives, decided the match would earn more revenue played in Geelong. I found this incredibly disrespectful to Fremantle. It was inappropriate, it was arrogant, it was flawed. Internally, we were seething but focused. Externally, we stuck by our ‘anywhere, anytime’ mantra, and vowed to make the best of the situation.

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.

Moore’s language fuels such enthusiastic approval in Europe because—on the one hand—it now seems legitimate, even laudable and progressive, to express prejudices and derogatory views concerning Americans publicly in a way that one may no longer do precisely because advances in the discourse and demeanor of tolerance over the past forty years have made the expressions of similar derogatory sentiments regarding other nationalities unacceptable;12 and because—on the other hand—these negative tropes are magnified and fortified by several degrees by Moore’s being so quintessentially American. With the exception of the British yellow press and the stands of European soccer stadiums, public expressions of humiliation like these are no longer acceptable in today’s Europe. In this context, a German friend quite correctly told me the following: “It would be unthinkable for books like Stupid White Men to hold leading positions for months at the top of Germany’s best-seller list if these stupid white men were anybody but Americans, say if they were Italians, Frenchmen, or Brits, let alone Germans. No German author would ever dream of publishing an equivalent book on Germans, and if he or she did, the book would surely not catapult to the top of the charts as it has in Moore’s case.

Told by interested Seattle parties that Logan had promised the city a team if they voted to build the Seahawks new stadium (which they had) Garber quickly pointed out that he hadn’t made the promise, a guarantee he said that never should have been made in the first place.

Everyone in the aid community says that the Chinese are doing a lot of highly visible things, parachuting hardware [by this he meant major, very visible projects like bridges and stadiums], but not really involving themselves in the hard work of institutional development and of capacity building.” In passing, he acknowledged that 90 percent of the requests made to his Millennium Challenge Corporation were also for construction projects. “I personally think that infrastructure is incredibly important, but I’m also not willing to say that [it] is the answer to all the big questions here. Infrastructure reflects the priorities of the governments. This does not necessarily mean that a bias for hardware equates with the best development choices. In many cases, it may reflect nothing more than the fact that because construction projects are visible and tend to be big, that they leave something behind that is tangible, that leaders can point to and take credit for. It becomes their argument for staying in power.

The young men are even less inhibited and come right up to the women to choose the one they like best, as if they are choosing a piece of fruit. At this point the women move their handkerchiefs and fans, and the more they are examined the more feeling they put into their singing. When a conversation starts, the young man takes the woman’s hand and they walk off together. The marketplace with its stalls thronging with ten thousand heads during the daytime is now a vast singing stadium. I am suddenly surrounded by an expanse of passions and think that the human search for love must originally have been like this. So-called civilization in later ages separated sexual impulse from love and created the concepts of status, wealth, religion, ethics and cultural responsibility. Such is the stupidity of human beings.

Hundreds of people in this stadium wore my jersey tonight. Maybe thousands." Although he does have a point, even if he doesn't realize it. Bex is wearing my jersey because I gave it to her. I went to the bookstore on campus and picked out the one I liked best, and then I wrapped it up like a present and left it at her door. It's the one I wanted Darryl to see her in. The one I wanted to see her in.

Right team.” I clapped my hands to get their attention. “Go out there and destroy Starlight Academy like you were made to do. You were trained by the best, so be the best.” I gazed across the lot of them as they lined up. The Heirs pulled ranks, clapping each other on the shoulders but some of them still looked miserable. A familiar chant carried from the crowd back in the stadium and hope burned through my chest. Perfect timing! “You can't scare the Heirs, the Heirs don't care. You can't scare the Heirs, the Heirs don't care!” The rest of the team took up the chant, grouping together and locking their arms over their shoulders in a circle, though I noticed Ashanti Larue kept her distance from Seth. The Heirs soon joined in, jumping up and down and pumping their fists. I folded my arms, grinning as I watched. The funny thing was, that chant was the biggest lie I'd ever heard. Because I’d never, in all the years I'd known them, seen the Celestial Heirs look so rattled. (OrionPOV)

As we emerge back into our lives, we may never again take for granted: Hugging a friend. Shaking hands in business. Flying to another location. Being able to work unimpeded. The roar of the crowd in the stadium. Watching a concert with 18,000 fans. Laughing in a movie theater. Visiting the elders in society. Shopping easily for food. Getting a haircut. The school rush each morning. Sitting on the freeway with others. Dining at our favorite restaurant. Visiting our grandchildren. Enjoying our work at the office. Dancing with your loved ones. Or a walk on the beach. Perhaps when this ends, we will discover that we have evolved more into the people we had wished we were prior to this giant life lesson. And perhaps our appreciation of one another will help us discover the very best in ourselves.

I’ve never been lonely. I’ve been in a room — I’ve felt suicidal. I’ve been depressed. I’ve felt awful — awful beyond all — but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me…or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I’ve never been bothered with because I’ve always had this terrible itch for solitude. It’s being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I’ll quote Ibsen, “The strongest men are the most alone.” I’ve never thought, “Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and give me a fuck-job, rub my balls, and I’ll feel good.” No, that won’t help. You know the typical crowd, “Wow, it’s Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?” Well, yeah. Because there’s nothing out there. It’s stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I’ve never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn’t want to hide in factories. That’s all. Sorry for all the millions, but I’ve never been lonely. I like myself. I’m the best form of entertainment I have. Let's drink more wine!

Ned and Mariel arrived at the stadium early, so he had time to relax amid the best artificial environment ever invented, and take in the aura. He knew people who felt that way about places like theaters and church, but to him, those settings were compromised by time and certainty. A play was never going to remove its most prominent actor halfway through act 1 due to ineffectiveness; a preacher would never crush the hopes of his flock and send them home disappointed a couple of Sundays a month. That’s why Ned loved baseball. It might break your heart, but you believed in it anyway. In a life of certainty, he cherished this elective relationship with peril. “When does the game start?” Mariel asked him. “In an hour and twenty minutes,” Ned said, and leaned back in the best uncomfortable chair in the state. “Better question, then. When is it over?” “Maybe never. Once it begins, there’s no promise that a baseball game will ever end.

Could any city import the resources needed to create a startup hub? [Paul] Graham took up the question in 2006 and pondered what would make, say, Buffalo, New York, into a Silicon Valley. To Graham, it was strictly a matter of enticing ten thousand people—“the right ten thousand people.” Perhaps five hundred would be enough, or even thirty, if Graham were to be permitted to pick them. Three years later, he suggested that a municipality offer to invest a million dollars each in one thousand startups. The capital required for such a scheme should not seem daunting: “For the price of a football stadium, any town that was decent to live in could make itself one of the biggest startup hubs in the world,” he said. Any place that wants to become a startup hub needs to understand, however, that it requires welcoming hackers and their unruliness. Unruliness is also “the essence of Americanness,” Graham maintains. “It is no accident that Silicon Valley is in America, and not France, or Germany, or England, or Japan. In those countries, people color inside the lines.” In America, too, failure in business is accommodated. Graham has consistently argued that few people are well suited for starting a startup but that the only effective way of determining who does excel is by having lots of people try: “As long as you’re at a point in your life when you can bear the risk of failure, the best way to find out if you’re suited to running a startup is to try it.

She had done her best to dodge him, but this was the Hilton, not Cowboys Stadium—or whatever they called that behemoth of a dome up there in Arlington now.

Today, violence against women is rightly abhorred. But we call violence against men entertainment. Think of football, boxing, wrestling; or ice hockey, rodeos, and auto racing. All are games used to sugarcoat violence against men, originally in need of sugarcoating so “our team”—or “our society”—could bribe its best protectors to sacrifice themselves. Yet even today the violence against men in sports is still financed by our public education system; and by public subsidies of the stadiums in which sports teams play. Violence against men is not just called entertainment, it is also called education. We all support it. Every day.

But it doesn’t have the history of the stadium in Chicago. It doesn’t have the iconic hand-turned scoreboard, or the infamous ivy-covered brick. It doesn’t have the red marquee outside or the best fans in the world. And don’t even get me started on the hot dogs.

started out basically imagining I was writing for a stadium full of replicas of myself—which made things easy because I already knew exactly what topics interested them, what writing style they liked, what their sense of humor was, etc.

Thirteen Reasons I Don’t Go to Sporting Events Anymore 1. Every time I went, they asked me for money. 2. The people sitting in my row didn’t seem very friendly. 3. The seats were very hard. 4. The coach never came to visit me. 5. The referees made a decision I didn’t agree with. 6. I was sitting with hypocrites—they only came to see what others were wearing! 7. Some games went into overtime, and I was late getting home. 8. The marching band played some songs I had never heard before. 9. The games are scheduled on my only day to sleep in and run errands. 10. My parents took me to too many games when I was growing up. 11. Since I read a book on sports, I feel that I know more than the coaches anyway. 12. I don’t want to take my children because I want them to choose for themselves what sport they like best. 13. I can play sports anywhere, I don’t need to go to a stadium. Do these reasons sound familiar? Have you lost your passion for local church ministry? Are you treating Jesus’ bride like a social club or an extra-curricular activity?

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Soccer is Italy’s favorite sport, and is played and watched all over the country. Each Sunday the great stadiums of Milan, Turin, Naples, Rome, and Bologna are filled with thousands of fans. Italian club soccer teams are among the best in the world, and regularly win international competitions. The national Italian team won soccer’s World Cup in 1982. Wages for successful players are high, and this helps to attract soccer stars from many other countries. Cycling also is very popular, as a sport to both do and watch. The Grand Tour of Italy takes place each year, following a long, grueling course over mountainous country. Many Italians forsake their favorite cafes to watch this bicycle race on television. Other popular pastimes include bowls, a game played on a sanded rink, and card games, commonly seen in cafes and bars across the nation. During August, many businesses close and workers go on vacation to the coast or mountains. The big cities are mostly deserted, except for tourists.

Most of the times we are mere spectators in the stadium, watching us run the race of our life. This race is not a defined format either; it could be a combination of short exhilarating sprints, strategic middle distance running, high hurdles, low hurdles or grueling marathons. The biggest challenge is the element of mystery in the format; each lap may require us to get into a rhythm to run a different kind of race and the number of laps assigned to us in the format is never known to us. We have to put our best performance irrespective of the outcome; we might blaze away to glory or we might pale into the oblivion, the race has to be run. We also share the track with fellow runners and each of them is engrossed in running their own race as per the format prescribed to them. Do not ever get intimidated by runners who zoom past us; we must plan to run our race at our own pace. Remember, the beauty of this format is that there is no competition among runners; the key is to concentrate on our own race and wish others well.

What is funny though is how, with time, people seem to have forgotten that it was this period that really made Rahman what he is. The man is Tamil and Tamil music was how he started out, and some of his best songs are in Tamil. On 8 July 2017, AR performed at Wembley Stadium in London, a concert titled Netru, Indru, Naalai (Tamil for ‘yesterday, today, tomorrow’). Soon after the concert, Twitter went berserk with a number of fans who’d attended the concert taking to social media to attack the composer, accusing him of playing ‘too many Tamil songs’. Some claimed that they’d walked out of the show in protest. AR addressed the issue politely and diplomatically. He reasoned that he had ‘tried his best’, was grateful to his fans and loved them for all they’d given him. As for the walking out bit, he said that some people always tend to leave the venue before he finishes a concert. He said there would always be pockets in the seats, here and there, by the time he got to the end of a show. His actual response though was quite brilliant. For his next set of concerts in Canada, AR cleverly released two posters for two different shows—one of which would be Tamil songs only and the other Hindi songs only. That one move said more than all his statements to the media.

Es bedarf eines gewissen spirituell fortgeschrittenen Zustands, damit wir glauben können, dass es so etwas wie Offenbarung gibt. Das Leben offenbart sich, die Natur offenbart sich, und so offenbart sich auch Gott: deshalb wird Gott in Persien „Khuda“ genannt, was Selbstoffenbarung heißt. Alles Wissen, alle Kunst und alle Kultur, die die Menschen kennen, kamen und kommen als Offenbarung. Anders gesagt: Wir lernen nicht nur durch studieren, sondern beziehen unser Wissen auch von der Menschheit. Ein Kind erbt nicht nur die Eigenschaften seiner Eltern oder Ahnen, sondern auch die Qualitäten seiner Nation und seiner Ethnie, sodass wir sagen können, es erbt die Eigenschaften der ganzen Menschheit. Wenn wir diese Schatzkammer des Wissens hinter dem sie verbergenden Schleier wirklich begreifen könnten, würden wir erkennen, dass wir ein Recht auf dieses Erbe haben. Das gibt uns einen Schlüssel, den Schlüssel zum Verständnis des Geheimnisses des Lebens: dass das Wissen nicht nur von außen, sondern auch von innen her erlangt wird. So können wir Wissen, das wir durch das äußere Leben gewinnen, Erlerntes nennen; das Wissen, das wir aus dem Inneren herbeiziehen aber können wir Offenbarung nennen. Offenbarung kommt von innen. Sie lässt das Herz sich selbst offenbaren; sie ist wie eine Neugeburt der Seele. Wenn wir dieses Stadium erreicht haben, werden alle Dinge und alle Wesen lebendig: Die Felsen, die Bäume, die Luft, der Himmel, die Sterne – sie alle leben. Wir können nun mit allen Dingen und Wesen kommunizieren. Wohin auch immer unser Blick auf Dinge in der Natur oder auf Persönlichkeiten fällt: Wir lesen darin deren Geschichte und erkennen ihre Zukunft. Wir beginnen mit den Seelen der Menschen, denen wir begegnen, zu kommunizieren, noch bevor wir ein Wort mit ihnen gesprochen haben. Ohne dass wir noch irgendeine Frage gestellt haben, beginnt die Seele schon, ihre eigene Geschichte zu erzählen. Jeder Mensch und jedes Objekt steht vor uns wie ein offenes Buch. Dann hört dieses ständige „Warum“ auf, das wir so oft in Menschen finden. Das „Warum“ existiert nicht länger, weil wir die Antwort auf alle Fragen in uns selbst finden. Trotz all der Gelehrtheit der Welt, die wir beigebracht bekommen, wird nämlich dieses andauernde „Warum“ bleiben, solange diese Antwort nicht eröffnet wurde. Und wieder können wir fragen, wie wir zu solchen Offenbarungen kommen. Die Antwort ist, dass es nichts im ganzen Universum gibt, das nicht im Menschen gefunden werden kann, wenn wir uns nur darum bemühen, es zu entdecken. Aber wenn wir sie nicht selbst herausfinden, kann niemand sie uns geben, denn Wahrheit wird nicht gelernt, Wahrheit wird entdeckt. In diesem Glauben begaben sich die Weisen des Ostens in die Einsamkeit und saßen in Meditation, um der Offenbarung die Gelegenheit zu geben, aufzusteigen. Zweifellos gibt es beim derzeitigen Lebensstil für uns kaum Zeit, in die Einsamkeit zu gehen. Aber das heißt nicht, dass wir weiterhin unwissend über das bleiben sollten, was das Beste in uns ist, denn alle anderen Schätze der Erde sind nichts im Vergleich zu der unermesslichen Glückseligkeit der Offenbarung; sie können nicht einmal damit verglichen werden. Offenbarung ist wie Aladdins Zauberlampe; wenn wir sie erst einmal entdeckt haben, wirft sie ihr Licht nach links und rechts und alle Dinge werden klar. (S. 213 ff.)

In the case a bricklayer working for a subcontractor on the Perth Stadium construction project suffered serious injuries when he single-handedly began to remove two overhead steel purlins that were in the way when he was building a wall. One of the discussions in the case was the extent to which the principal should have provided training to the subcontractor about workplace health and safety hazards associated with the work. In that context, the court observed: Pursuant to its contract, NeoWest had autonomy in how it was to complete the works and it was the appropriate body to provide the training and induction within its specialised area and to specify the methods to be used in performing the tasks required of its workers. It would not have been reasonably practicable, or indeed wise, for the first defendant to impinge on NeoWest's training and induction of its own employees as to the proper and safe method of completing the works within its scope of works and area of expertise and specialised knowledge, possibly to override or even contradict that training and induction. Each individual trade's expertise and specialist knowledge was the very reason why the first defendant engaged subcontractors to perform the various works in the first place, rather than complete them itself.60 This limited (although still very onerous) obligation is consistent with a social approach to managing wicked problems. As I argue later in the book, you cannot solve wicked problems – we cannot solve safety. All we can do is “tame” the problem of safety – do the best we can.

Some years ago an LA rock singer from the same scream and raji’s era as JA who has been friends with all of them forever told me that he and another lead singer of a stadium band of the same vintage had a conversation where they agreed that 1.0 Perry was the best of them all by far but also that they wondered if it was some sort of mirage in that it lasted a few years and was completely gone different guy non magical non great non serious ever since then, as tho the original guy never existed.