Diatribes by Joah

My Letter to Lakers GM Mitch Kupchak:

Dear Mr. Kupchak,

That final game against the Thunder, hell the whole series, was so painful. I watched Game 5 on a plane back from New York to Austin, where I live, and about cried. Another masterful season by Kobe Bryant lost. That's the short version. The long version is for another letter. But, there was hope when I finally got home at 1:30 a.m. and listened to what Kobe Bryant said in the post-game press conference. I know you probably read this or heard it in person, but it’s worth sharing again, I think.

“I’m not the most patient of people and the organization’s not extremely patient either. We want to win and win now. I’m sure we’ll figure it out. We always have and I’m sure we will again.”

“I’m not fading into the shadows, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not going anywhere…We’re not going anywhere. It’s not one of those things where the Bulls beat the Pistons and the Pistons disappeared forever. I’m not going for that shit.”

“It’s tough to really process (so soon) exactly what we need with improvements and what area we need to improve on, but that’s something that we’ll definitely think through and we’ve really been great at as an organization. Mitch has really done a phenomenal job this past decade in building title teams pretty quickly. We just have to do it again."

So here’s why I’m sharing this. Kobe is the voice of the Lakers. To that extent, his voice is my voice. Although I shouldn’t really be a Lakers fan, I am, and I’m a huge one. And, frankly, if Kobe trusts you to improve the team, I should too.

I know you were an All-American at North Carolina and an Olympian then played with the Lakers in the ‘80s and have the rings to prove it. I know you were Jerry West’s understudy in the front office. I know you’ve been criticized and ridiculed, but have endured it all over the last decade since Mr. West’s departure. I know you pulled off the Pau Gasol trade that revitalized the franchise. I know you almost pulled off the Chris Paul trade that would’ve put another nail in the Clippers’ coffin. I know you made the decision to set Derek Fisher free. I know you care about the Lakers just as much, if not more, than anyone at the organization. I know, with the exception of your boss (the Buss’s), that only you can make good on helping Kobe Bean Bryant win that elusive 6^th NBA title.

I share this because there’s something else I know about you. I know you are going to do something to make sure next year’s team is better than this year’s team; not only because Kobe needs to win another title to tie Michael Jordan. No, that’s only part of the reason. The true reason is because the failure of this team – and last year’s team – is due to one reason, and one reason alone: too many players on the team don’t know what it means to be a Laker.

If you’re not shaking your head in agreement, then you can feel free to stop reading. But I have a feeling you agree. The funny thing is, I didn’t grow up a Lakers fan but have only recently started to understand what it means to be a Laker. I’m on the fan dome side, but it’s still about being a Laker.

So what does it mean to be a Laker? Well, before I go there, let me share a bit more about how I came to be someone rooting for your organization.

Having grown up in South Carolina – a state with no major pro sports teams – I can honestly say that I’ve come to be Lakers fan through sheer happenstance. You see, when I was six years old, I lived in Texas so it was easy to become a Dallas Cowboys fan. What six-year-old kid in Texas doesn’t have a favorite football team? When I moved to Greenville, South Carolina, two years later I became a fan of the Atlanta Braves. Why? Because their Double-A baseball team played in Greenville where I even got to see Michael Jordan play a game. I think he struck out.

But my allegiance to the Lakers is different. It’s solely because of one guy: Kobe.

Back when I was growing up in Greenville, I was exposed to high school basketball (as a fan, I never had any game) through my oldest brother Kahron who is now a Spurs fan, but I won’t talk about that. K played at the YMCA where a local kid named Kevin Garnett played. When I was 10, Ray Allen was named Mr. Basketball in South Carolina, and Garnett would’ve won a couple of years later but he transferred to a prep school in Illinois for his senior year before jumping to the pros. Obviously, him jumping to the pros helped to pave the way for Kobe to do the same the following year.

Isn’t it pretty rad that South Carolina produced two future Basketball Hall of Famers; too bad they play for the Celtics, right? Anyway, my point is that I started rooting for Kobe way back when he was a high schooler. Remember when he went to prom with singer Brandy? Yeah, he was something like a LeBron James without the Sports Illustrated cover.

Well, sort of. You see, a lot of people see this polished player today with a killer instinct and a nickname like Black Mamba and they think Kobe was destined for greatness all along. While I think that, and the Lakers certainly thought that, it wasn’t as clear-cut as it has been with LeBron. Kobe was drafted 13^th! Sure, he wasn’t as NBA-ready as LeBron, or even Kevin Durant (who even went to my alma mater, University of Texas, for a single year), but he was drastically underrated coming out of high school. If you re-drafted the last 25 years in the NBA, Kobe gets taken in the top 3 every time. Only Tim Duncan and LeBron James are clear favorites for the #1 spot ahead of Kobe. But that wasn’t the case in 1996. So Kobe started with the kind of chip on his shoulder that my favorite player John Stockton started with (Stockton was drafted 16^th in 1984, as you may remember).

The Charlotte Hornets – a logical team for me to root for, I suppose, from the other Carolina state – drafted Kobe, which seemed prudent for their squad, but I was never a Hornets fan. I was a Kobe fan. So when Mr. West and you guys in the Lakers front office made the trade – Vlade Divac for this 17-year-old string bean shooting guard from Philly with the middle name Bean – I immediately fell in love. Candidly, I rooted for the Jazz pretty hard-core to beat the Bulls because I loved the consistency and work ethic of John Stockton but I saw the writing on the wall; Kobe would soon take the mantle as the NBA icon for reliability and hard work.

I want to give you credit because you seem to have understood this all along. That’s why you got Phil Jackson to harness his early Jordan-like temperament and talent and matched him with Shaquille O’Neal, a guy whose offseason work ethic was often questioned. Kobe was the glue because he had the killer instinct like Jordan and the “I’m the man” streak like Shaq, but needed the massaging of the Zenmeister. I know Mr. West gets much of the credit for that first three-peat, but I know you were there behind the scenes and then proved your worth front-and-center with the back-to-back titles in 2009 and ’10, something even the Spurs have failed to do with Duncan and coach/exec Gregg Popovich.

I want to give you credit because you’ve taken a lot of criticism, but you’ve proven that the decision making authority is in a pretty good place when it’s with you. The Bynum draft, the Gasol trade, the Artest pickup, the Fisher trade, the Paul attempt. I see your work ethic and reliability too. I know us Kobe and Lakers fans can count on you to do what’s right.

Does that mean firing Mike Brown? Maybe, but I trust you. Does that mean trading Gasol and/or Bynum to go after Dwight Howard and/or Deron Williams? Maybe, but I trust you. Does that mean getting more reliable 3-point-shooters at the point guard position than Ramon Sessions and Steve Blake? Maybe, but I trust you. The most important thing is that you harken back to what made the Lakers great when you were playing with Magic and Kareem, or even earlier with Wilt and Elgin Baylor and Mr. Logo, and more recently with Shaq and Kobe and now Kobe. Great players? Yes. You’ve spent your career working with several of them. Great role players? Most definitely. You were one of them. Great Lakers? I only see one of them on the roster today. I understand your decision to cut Derek Fisher, trade Lamar Odom and so on, but I hope you realize that the Lakers didn’t lose because of a lack of talent, but because of a lack of Laker-ness.

To be a Laker means to be a winner, first and foremost. To be a winner means never quitting, which we didn’t see Kobe do against the Thunder.

To be a Laker means to coach with a level of passion, creativity and leadership that guys like Pat Riley and Phil Jackson exuded. Does Mike Brown fit that description? I can’t tell.

To be a Laker also means to be entertainingly dominant, which Gasol simply isn’t. To be a Laker means to respect the game and your opponents, which Bynum seems to struggle with.

To be a Laker means to live for the brightest spotlights, which Ramon Sessions seemed fearful of. To be a Laker means to take those gutsy shots and make them as guys like Robert Horry and Rick Fox and Derek Fisher used to do. Steve Blake seems to have the guts, but not the gifts.

To be a Laker means to play with fire, even if you’re a bench guy, which I see in a guy like Jordan Hill and used to see in Shannon Brown before you let him go.

To be a Laker means to know, deep down, that you are the better team, but play the full 48+ minutes to prove it. This Lakers team we’ve seen these last two years seems to not fully grasp that last part. They gave a good show of confidence (who couldn’t with Kobe on the roster), but they didn’t back it up.

Regardless, I’m not really trying to advise you on what should happen with this Lakers team, at least not specific personnel decisions, because you seem to know exactly what to do. Maybe not today or this offseason, but I know you hear the clock on Kobe’s career ticking. He does too. He put in a gutsy performance against the Nuggets with a stomach bug and then the 43-point game, followed by his 42-point; 5-dunk game against the Thunder just to prove he’s not ready to fade away just yet, but it will eventually happen. I give it 2 maybe 3 seasons tops.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that it may have been Kobe who converted me into a Lakers fan, but it’s your excellent behind the scenes work that has made it so enjoyable up until these last couple of playoff exits. I trust you to bring the Lakers back to the promised land. Kobe knows he needs you, and so do us fans.

In the utmost admiration and respect,

 

Joah Spearman

Lakers fan since ‘Kobe

This city is the bestest!

And a few things they missed: - 2006, Mohawk opens joining Stubb's as the most powerful one-two punch in the country for live music venues on the same street - 1997 Alamo Drafthouse opens - 2005 UT Football, led by Vince Young, wins college football BCS National Championship

Footwear Obsession

It started with sneakers. [My maid came by so they were all lined up in the bathroom that day.]

Then came the socks!

What Austin Music Fans & Musicians Need to Change

[The views expressed here are my own, and no one else's. I'm the only Joah you know.]

Last December, during our Austin Music Commission meeting, we came to a unanimous decision, and then re-affirmed that decision this past week, that Red River should be designated a Live Music Historic District.

Red River is the heart of Austin’s live music scene today, and, with Mohawk and Stubb’s, represents some of the best our city has to offer in terms of well-established venues for touring musicians. When SXSW rolls around, when out-of-towners come to visit, when friends ask me where to go on a weeknight, I usually point them to Red River.

Of course, there are several key venues in Austin that aren’t on Red River including ACL Live at the Moody Theatre on Second Street, Continental Club on South Congress Avenue, Broken Spoke and Saxon Pub on South Lamar, The Parish on E. Sixth Street, among others. Still, I truly believe that what happens on Red River Street in the coming years with the Waller Creek Development project and its ability to weigh future (residential and day-time) ambitions with present-day (live music and nightlife) uses will be a sign of things to come in our city, good or bad.

But protecting Red River Street and supporting the continued prominence of venues like Mohawk and Stubb’s is only one part of the solution for Austin’s music future. I say solution because we do have problems, and several of them.

Unfortunately, however, not all of these problems can be addressed through my role on the Music Commission. This blog is intended to share my POV on the top 3 things that I’ve observed as things that need to happen to make sure Austin’s live music scene is protected and prosperous for many years to come.

Before I go there, though, please allow me give you a little more context on why I may be qualified to speak on the matter. Sorry, it’s not because I’m a life-long Austinite or because I’m over 40 years old. I’m a 29-year-old who calls both Killeen, Texas, and Greenville, South Carolina, my hometown.

Where to start? Well, I’ve been an Austin music person since before Austin Music People existed. Actually, I think I’ve been an Austin music person even before I was an Austin resident. In high school, while trying to escape the boredom of Killeen, I would take my newly-secured driver’s license and drive to Austin. So, no, I didn’t learn of places like Antone’s, Broken Spoke, Emo’s and Stubb’s from my parents or neighbors, but instead from venturing down I-35 on my own at 17 years old with a fake ID and later while getting my edumacation on at UT.

In the three-plus-years since I’ve been back in Austin, after a post-college stint in D.C., I’ve made it a major priority to further immerse myself into Austin’s live music community. Austin is my first love, and this city’s live music scene is something like a pair of big brown eyes that keeps me hooked. Hell, it may even be sexier than that, but I’ll keep this post PG. So along with being an avid concert- and festival-goer, a friend to countless musicians and DJs and a regular at Waterloo Records, I make a point to do more than the usual fan.

In late 2010, I was appointed by recently re-elected Mayor Pro Temp Sheryl Cole to the Austin Music Commission, and have since been appointed vice chair. Along those lines, I was honored to be the keynote speaker – after Mayor Lee Leffingwell – at this past year’s Austin Music Memorial event honoring the likes of Sims Ellison, whose namesake gives us the SIMS Foundation.

Also, over the past few years, I’ve been writing this book about Austin’s live music scene called Indisputable that is just about done. I’ve been putting the finishing touches on it, and can’t seem to call it quits because the live music scene here is so active that by the time I finish editing a chapter, I need to re-write another one, get new photos, etc. Plus, I know a lot of dirt on a lot of people in the live music community that I debate with myself on whether or not the casual Austin music fan would like to know. I’m only half kidding so watch out people!

I share these credentials because I’m going to say something that may come across to some as critical, cynical, contrite or all three: Austin’s live music scene is in dire need of a reality check.

It’s not just a lack of true business sense with some of the venues being operated in Austin, but a lack of entrepreneurial zeal in a lot of the musicians I see and, even, some piss-poor event planning with a number of live music events in the city. Let’s not name names here, but let’s be clear that these issues don’t just happen in other cities. They happen in the Live Music Capital of the World, too; you can be sure of that.

That being said, here are the top 3 things that need to happen to make sure Austin’s live music scene is protected and prosperous for many years to come:

1. Get out of the city.

Austinites like to pride themselves on the fact that the city is far better, especially when it comes to creative output and tourism benefits, than Dallas, Houston or San Antonio. Well, DUH. And New York City is a bit more interesting than Albany, Buffalo and Syracuse. Please, tell us something we don’t know.

What Austinites – especially music fans and bands – should do is draw the lines further out and think about what needs to happen to be confident about our “Live Music Capital” designation against stronger candidates like Chicago, New Orleans and Seattle. Is it the venues? The types of artists/bands? The fans? Regardless, the answer gets 10x better the more we get outside our little Texas bubble. This is one of the reasons why SXSW is a deceptive festival at times. It gives people the impression that they went to San Francisco or Brooklyn or London without having actually gone anywhere.

More out-of-state exploration will bring back stronger business concepts for things like venues and studios, more innovative musical genres/sub-genres and greater perspective for our artists on what type of hustle and grit it takes to “make it” which is something 9 out of 10 Austin musicians say they don’t need, but desperately desire.

2. Do-It-Yourself needs to become Do-It-Right

Because sometimes DIY mentality is the very thing that kills your creativity by reducing your ability to create! Why? Because you don’t have the time or money to tour or record or write new material; you’re too busy subsidizing your life with a job you couldn’t imagine yourself having in 10 years.

You may think you’re staying true to yourself as a musician or whatever, but what you’re really doing is staying true to that part of you that never has been and never will be. Listen deep down and find that voice screaming for success, willing to fight for some shine and able to push through all the bullshit about “not selling out”. Listen to that voice and say, “shut the f*ck up, I’m going to win this time.” Do you think there are tech entrepreneurs, fashion designers, filmmakers or dancers saying they’re going to “keep it real” and do everything themselves? Hell to the no. They are out there trying to build a team of like-minded people willing and able to push their creativity forward. What about you Mr. or Ms. Austin musician?

Sometimes you have to do it the right way with the traditional parts of the business such as a manager, a booking agent, a publicist, hell, even a label. Not all the time, but sometimes. And if you think you’re going to sell out by doing so, then think about this: you can DIY all the way to the top and, chances are, all you did was leave a lot of money on the table because you were ignoring people well-trained to maximize your talent on your behalf. Why the hell do you think band’s like Spoon have Ben Dickey or people like Tom Windish make a living? Is it because they aren’t needed? Don’t think so.

If you want to be rubbing two nickels together when you’re 40-years-old after 10 or so years of relative Austin-only success then so be it. Just know going in that it’s all on you, your career, your talent, your attitude, your team members, your livelihood, your failure or success. It should only be DIY until you are smart enough to realize you can’t do it all yourself. The sooner you have that realization, the more time you’ll have to do what’s best instead of what seems most appropriate to say to your friends over beers on some back patio at an East Sixth bar.

3. Camaraderie leads to commercialism.

Why don’t many bands out of Austin “break”? Easy, the camaraderie is at an all-time low. I can’t tell you how many friends of mine are musicians that don’t listen to music. I mean they say they do, they go see their friends’ bands play, but they don’t really listen. It’s just a series of “oh yeah…they’re alright” statements one after the other. These people genuinely don’t want someone else to succeed!

Why? Because of fear. Fear that someone else will actually get rewarded for putting in the work and dedication that you’re not willing to put in yourself. No, I’m not a musician. Does that mean I can’t ever “get it”? Maybe. But I’ve had hundreds, literally hundreds, of conversations with friends who are Austin musicians. Not all of them are giving it their all. Most of them are uber talented, uber dedicated to their crafts, but only mildly concerning themselves with the single most important thing to making them successful: understanding people.

Unlike other creative industries, musicians don’t seem to get the people part of the business the way people in film or tech or art do. Yeah, we all know it’s all about who you know. No, you’re wrong. It’s about who knows you. And it’s not enough for them to know you from that band that one time at that one venue. Or from that friend who’s a friend of a friend who said you were good. That isn’t enough.

You have to touch people, connect with people, keep in contact with people. You have to do this constantly, consistently and comfortably. I know that may be hard for some of these creative types who aren’t exactly consistent, and damn sure aren’t pros at a) being comfortable with others or b) making others feel comfortable, but it’s a requirement.

As you can see, it’s not all about the venues. It’s not all about the business. It’s about people. At the root of this scene here in Austin are three types of people: Austin music fans, Austin musicians and people who want to be in one of those two groups.

It’s simple math, really: if you are a fan, you get to know more musicians and convince non-fan, non-musicians to become fans. If you are a musician, you get good fans to do what I just said fans should be doing.

There is no DIY in this city. There are just people trying to do it with others, and people convincing themselves they don’t need anyone after all. Austin’s live music scene needs to root out that second bunch because they’re killing this city one musician, one band, one venue, and one fan at a time.

Friday Jam: Chrissy Murderbot

Why I don't want to be great. Yet.

One of the things I love about writing stream of consciousness is that I have a lot of time to hear things, see things, experience things and get into informal conversations about a number of issues. And then, only after all of these things are considered, can I put fingers to keys and type these diatribes out in a matter of minutes. They usually don't take very long.

Could I put more time and thought into them? Sure. But that's not where I am right now. It's funny, I've been thinking a lot about how I spend my time, and how others perceive I spend my time, and in multiple conversations I've had people - typically women or people older than me - give me advice. They see my talent, my drive, and they want to help. They want to help me refine myself. But I can only refine myself for myself. Your help is just that, help. It's extremely appreciated, but cannot do for me what time, experience and internal dialogue can do for me.

The people in my life, especially my family, my good friends, my business partners, my mentors and personal board of advisers, are the most valuable external sources I have. Add them all up, and I'm backed by a lot of experience and wisdom. But experience is what will help me gain wisdom.

Here's one thing I've been wanting to share. This is the one nugget of wisdom I carry with me every day.

I don't need evidence to know I can be great. I prove it to myself everyday, even when what I'm doing is just good. The sheer volume of how many "goods" I've piled up to this point is a testament to my ability to cross-train for greatness long term.

Truth be told, I don’t want to be great at any one thing this early in my life.

Being great can be very pigeonholing. I want to tread carefully so that I have multiple paths to greatness rather than just one.

Think about it: If you do that thing in a great way and you become that guy. You’ve done a good job at being great so you can no longer settle for good elsewhere.

Actors, ballplayers, comedians, models, mothers, rockstars...they're all victims of single-track greatness.

Look at Andre 3000 and the perception of his rap skills versus his knack for style. He’s great at rap, he’s pretty good at fashion. Kanye West has the same story.

Look at Michael Jordan. Great at basketball so never allowed to be good at baseball.

Look at Barack Obama. Great at campaigning, so he’s not being allowed to be considered great at leading despite his dozens of accomplishments while in office.

Look at Bill Gates. First he was great at tech, then he had to be broken down. Microsoft had to be sued and the Goliath partially slayed in order for its leader to be re-introduced as a great man elsewhere. Today, we have the Gates Foundation.

Another Bill, Clinton, experienced a self-inflicted move from great to good – during the Lewinsky scandal and Al Gore’s 2000 loss – in order to re-invent himself as a great ex-president.

It’s hard to be both great and good. No one ever gives you that option.

You either have to be John Lennon or Marvin Gaye alive or you have to be them dead.

You either have to be LBJ respected and revered in 1960 or LBJ not running in 1968.

You either have to be JFK or Richard Nixon. America leaves its leaders no grey area.

That’s why, I’d rather not waste my time with greatness at a single thing just yet. 

I’d rather master the art of all-around goodness.

From here, I can pivot and position myself in whatever direction I so choose. A writer. A philanthropist. An activist. An entrepreneur. A fashion guru. A social media savant.

Whatever it is right now, I’m A-OK with being slightly better than OK at every single thing I do. Because this country has plenty of people trying to be our generation’s George Washington – be it in politics, tech, sports, etc. the title holders and leaders - but not nearly enough people emulating Ben Franklin – the thinkers, brainstormers, conceptualizers, tinkerers and doers.

Is this an excuse not to pursue greatness in my life? No, not at all. I know I can be better at a lot of things.

It’s just a request for patience. I have a plan for great, trust me, but it’s going to take me many more years and much more practice at good to get me there.

Black America Needs to Play More Baseball

I was having a lively discussion with two really good friends over dinner tonight, and I want to share some of my points. Although I have a 6 a.m. flight, this is the kind of heavy topic that prevents me from sleeping soundly.

I think there is something fundamentally wrong with the way Black Americans are educated from one generation to the next. The analogy I’d like to use, a timely one I believe, is that of a game of baseball.  Black Americans are taught – self-taught, primarily - to bunt and hit singles, but then our only options are to stand on the base waiting to be driven home or to steal our way across the bases. We have an outsized need of help from others, or we take what hasn't been given. Government or prison.

You're considered "special" if you make it to 2nd base in life: white-collar work. Seriously, do you realize how many runners reach 2nd base that never score runs? Second base is nothing. It's just a stat. If people want to get credit for stats, then they should go play in the minor leagues. The big leagues are for winners, through and through.

This isn’t an analogy I use lightly. I know this may rub some people the wrong way, because it will seem like a gross generalization and maybe Black self-hate or something else that is customarily lobbed onto anything critical of the standard m.o. in America. So be it. This here is a diatribe. 

Us Black Americans need to learn how to move across the bases ourselves. I believe in agency, and my life to this point has been my best attempt to be the best agent for my own level of success in this world. Sure, I've had help from plenty of people, Black and White, but I can't credit anyone other than myself for getting my where I am today outside of my mother for birthing me and my father for leaving me.

White Americans have dominated baseball for decades, centuries even. I’m not talking about the Yankees. I’m talking about the Waltons, the Romneys, the Kennedys, the Zuckerbergs. This is a game as old as any we’ve played in America. It's a game of bases, four total, that take a generational - team - effort.

The first base/generation has a sole purpose. That is to reach base. Bunting with zero outs is not ideal. Preferably, you have a good leadoff hitter to reach first base on a single. This is a speedy, hard working guy who doesn’t hit for power but hustles extremely hard. These are many of our parents, grandparents or great-grandparents if you're lucky (for those HBCU legacies).

Blue-collar work is the duty of a first generation. Scoring opportunities are significantly increased with a runner on base. You no longer have to hope for a home run, the rarest feat for a generation, to score. The lottery, the get-rich-quick-tips...these are home runs as rare as no-hitters. 

The next step is advance the runner. You can do this in one of four ways:

1) A stolen base. This goes back to the hustle. You have to have that in order to be able to move yourself ahead in the game. Whenever people mention things like “pick yourself up by your bootstraps” they’re talking about stealing bases. Some people can do this, but it’s not common. Less common today, in fact, than ever. The gap is widening, stolen base kings no longer as prolific as the days of Rickey Henderson.

2) A sacrifice play. This is far more common. Far too common, actually. One generation making countless sacrifices for another. The common perception is that single Black women make these types of sacrifices to raise their young children. This is true, but I don’t think this is a female-only fact. Men make sacrifices, perhaps of their professional ambitions and dreams, to provide for their families. Advancing their children’s ceilings from blue-collar to white-collar work.

3) A base hit. A good team may have a batting average in the area of .280, meaning out of 100 opportunities to reach base with a hit, 28 are successful. Does anyone like that average for young Black America? One hundred students walking into a classroom and 28 walking across a stage? I don’t think so. We need better hitting coaches in America’s classrooms and, in many cases, home settings.

4) Luckily, there’s a fourth way: walks. Walks require lots of patience. Often times there is an intimidation factor as well; the pitcher has to feel you’re a threat to get a hit at the plate. So that patience, coupled with skill as a hitter, make for a stronger case to walk the batter. Walks aren’t extremely common, but they are common enough to indicate there is some discipline involved in generation advancement. My mother didn’t graduate from college, but I did. She’s been a secretary or assistant for many years of her career, and I’m probably in need of one of my own.

Third base is hard. Stealing third base is really difficult. Double steals (where runners on both first and second base advance to second and third, respectively) happen, but very rarely. If the previous batter reached on a walk, a consecutive walk allowed is highly unlikely. Another sacrifice play is possible, but the field of play becomes smaller to achieve the intended goal of advancing the runner without risking giving up a double play. Ground balls are not your friends, either. 

Long story short, you need a decent bat on the ball, there needs to be some power and loft with any contact. This is where a lot of generations get hung up. The right contact is never made. They leave too many runners on base and don’t bring enough runs home. Generation after generation, runners are left on first and second, blue-collar and white-collar work alike, yet never reach home. 

Whether your paycheck is for $7.25 an hour at McDonald’s or $75,000 a year as an accountant, you may not have scored a single run yet. You haven’t won anything. Sure, you’ve shown signs of success…you have potential…but your scoreboard still shows zero.

Too many people confuse base hits, stolen bases, walks and sacrifices as runs. They are not. If you can’t get the runner over to third, you’ll never make it to the home plate. So what is third base if first is blue collar and second is white collar? Third base is creative professionalism.

It doesn’t mean you’re in Richard Florida’s “Creative Class” necessarily. You don’t have to be a web designer or writer or musician, no this creative professionalism is about how you utilize the hustle that got you to first base and the education that got you to second.

The combination of those skills and experiences is what has fueled a generation of tinkerers and thinkers whom are now creating their own jobs. Zuckerberg is a famous example, but there are millions of White Americans who've been able to do this for the last couple of decades. Sure, some of these jobs exist within corporations or organizations, but their existence is a result of the collective effort of many creative professionals. The pressure was applied to the pitchers so often that a pitch was met with a live bat. 

Unless you’re doing something you love, something you’ve been trained to do and trained yourself to master, and can make a living doing it, you’re not on third base. There are not many Black Americans on third base. I'm not saying there aren't any, I know quite a few actually like Johnica Reed and James Andrews and Coltrane Curtis, but they have thousands of Twitter followers and fans of their work because they are anamolies.

Black people: don’t lie to yourself if you’re on second. You’ll know deep down if the love and skill is there. No one else will tell you, but you should be honest with yourself and work harder.

Who knows, though, some people are happy with the stats of having reached base, gotten a steal or walk. But those stats fanatics aren’t the people winning the titles all the time. Sometimes, but not always. Why do you think Derek Jeter – and not A-Rod – is considered the Yankees great of today?

So reaching home is the pantheon of success.

You’ve hustled, you’ve been educated and worked hard, and you’ve been creative in paving your own way across life’s bases.

You want to score in this game? Score your run, congratulate yourself, then pick up the bat and hand it to a young Black American. They need us to help them learn how to run the bases too. My book “Real Role Models” and the numerous public speeches I give in classrooms and to youth organizations is my initial attempt to do just that, but I’m getting the itch to do a little bit more.

I can’t sleep on this one.

Friday Jam: Vondelpark