When I was younger, I was given a toy toolkit. It looked like a real toolkit but it didn’t function like one.
I was recently reminded of this while listening to Donald Miller's podcast "Building a Story Brand" (no pun intended). The host asked if guest Daymond John believes you should staff your liabilities. The FUBU creator/Shark Tank entrepreneur did not, and instead felt you should staff your assets. John would rather hire someone to take over an area of his personal strength "... so that I can peak in the other areas that I don't know. I don't want to be taken advantage of... I can't be the sucker at the table." The way I interpret that is, when building out your toolkit, it is not about having all the tools but about having the right ones for the right reasons. You cannot use a hammer on every project; no matter how great, it only serves a narrow purpose. However, if you only choose projects which utilize its specialization, that high-quality tool makes work much more effective and smooth. You leverage your strengths and accomplish more in an area that matters most to you. Most toolkits come with the obvious: hammer, wrench, screwdriver, pliers. But they miss one vital tool — the generalist. Cue the Swiss Army knife. The Swiss Army knife is not pretending to be all-encompassing nor the best at every function — but it does offer an imprecise skill set for infinite use. It comes in handy for everyday tasks as well as when you are in a bind. Each of the aforementioned tools has a purpose; and the Swiss Army knife's is its versatility. It makes me wonder... why are we so often told to be a hammer, wrench, screwdriver or pliers but rarely the Swiss Army knife?
There are three Starbucks at the Shepherd & West Gray intersection (four if you count the one in Kroger just down the block). This fact has irked me ever since I discovered it recently. It initially seems senseless to saturate that corner, but I had to make sense of it.
Starbucks sees an opportunity to feed the market. They call this strategy “Main & Main” where they find a high-traffic locale and open up shops. Each location is slightly different, tailoring the experience to different needs. * Knowing that the majority of coffee sales are generated before noon, each location indirectly works together to reduce bottle necking and allows customers to get their caffeine-fix in a more streamlined way.
Between all the different ways to order, pay, receive and consume coffee, Starbucks does not fear cannibalization, and instead banks on the unplanned, yet convenient, cup to drive overall sales. What it all comes down to is persuading its customers that they have no choice but to grab a coffee. It is right there. No excuses. Whether it is at Location One, Two, Three or Four, through consistent and persistent marketing, Starbucks does not care where -- it focuses on the "stronger together" mentality. That is pretty powerful positioning (literally and figuratively). * Two of these stores are licensed, not franchises. The licensed cafes are incorporated into already existing storefronts via strategic partnerships, with Barnes & Nobles and Kroger. Starbucks licenses the rights to serve its coffee and trains other companies’ employees to sell its products. (Brilliant, right?) The main differences appear to be which gift cards are redeemable and that employees may get called off to work “others duties as assigned.”
When I graduated from my Bachelor of Arts & Humanities program in Decision Sciences & Design, the program gave me a kaleidoscope along with my diploma. I remember initially thinking, “What am I going to do with this?” But it turned out to be a really insightful and important reminder.
Life is like a kaleidoscope. It is the lens with which we view the world. Each tube has similar components — shapes, colors and mirrors — like life has its constants: family members, coworkers, circle of friends; work, school, extra-curriculars; minutes, months, years. Each rotation makes a new configuration different from the last and the next. With each shift, there are infinite possibilities. The word kaleidoscope derives from the Ancient Greek: kalos (beautiful) eidos (that which is seen) skopeo (to examine) to mean "observation of beautiful forms." It reminds me to keep moving to find that fresh perspective, to find the beauty in the chaos and to appreciate each new composition. "What's this?" A fun game my family and I played growing up. My grandfather would make a shape with his table-napkin and place it on his head — suddenly it transformed into a hat. Then he would place it in front of his mouth and it became a megaphone. Whether it was a salt-shaker, a pencil or any other odd object on hand, we would all shout out options until we ran out. Sometimes the game would go on for ages until dinner came to the table or it was time for bed. I am reminded of that game often in my professional life. My grandpa primed me to take something ordinary and come up with creative solutions to make it seem more realistic. We only believed it was a hat when it was carefully constructed and shaped, not just draped over. We were not blindly stretching our imaginations. What I learned at an early age is what designers do on a daily basis -- we take basic information and transform it into more meaningful results. I have always admired Christoph Niemann and his Ordinary Objects. He inspires me to carry this game forward into everyday life.
Remember the first time you had your favorite cookie? The crispy M&Ms, the velvety peanut and chocolate chips, the thick oatmeal batter, the sugary aroma that emanated from the crumbling pieces?
If you are anything like me, when someone offers you a cookie, you do not refuse. Sure, the high caloric value and high-fat content may spark hesitation initially (especially after that killer workout you just finished) but ultimately you try it because you are in an unconscious pursuit of a cookie that either meets or exceeds your expectation for what a cookie should taste like. It is human nature to set an anchor and base judgments on that. Will this be just as tasty? Oh, well I better test it. If I do not even try a new competitor, I am gypping myself of happiness; it has got to be worth it, right? I have an optimistic expectation that my previous anchor will be dethroned. So, I try the cookie. It tastes good but not sure it is absolutely the best out there. Am I selling it short? Am I giving it a real chance? Life is like that too. We are constantly in pursuit of happiness, like it is some hidden treasure or pot of gold. You have to actively search for it, trap it, cultivate it. But that also seems like some unattainable state, like we constantly move the finish-line on an endless track. It may feel like if you are not moving forward, you might as well just give up. But why cannot we just appreciate the sweet morsels without the guilt? Actually notice the flavors, the textures, the smells for exactly what they are: a special treat? Why don't we savor the moment? Why do we have such a hard time acknowledging that sometimes "good enough" is actually hits the sweet spot. It is exactly what we need. I had a seemingly innocuous yet insightful encounter last night. During a CrossFit workout, I partnered up with someone new to the gym. We were sharing the same barbell and weights, alternating front squats. After a few rounds of increasing weights, he looked like he was struggling a little bit. I whispered to him: "You know you can take some weight off, right?" And he looked at me wide-eyed and responded innocently: "Really?" So, we shared a smile and quickly striped off a couple tens.
In that moment, I felt a little like Oprah -- so empowering! What felt so good about that simple encounter was that this new guy had no ego about it. He knew his limits, accepted that he just wanted to do it right and worked within his means. He did not let literal or figurative pressure determine his strength. It made me put into perspective how often we try to add more and more weights, to prove our strength or our value to those around us. We so often seek extrinsic confirmation of our abilities rather than intrinsically trust our own strength. Once we accept the latter, we ultimately feel lighter, less bogged down by unnecessary weight that is not healthy nor productive for overall growth. When I was 11-months old, I took my first steps. My mom was across the room with a cookie in-hand, cheering for me to come get it. Within a few swift movements, I swooped in and shoved it in my mouth. Ever since, I can honestly say not much has changed. Anyone who knows me even remotely well knows that I have a massive sweet-tooth (but with the inclusion of nutritional education and CrossFit workouts, I have recently reduced my need for sugar intake).
With all of that said, I found a lovely little place this weekend called Dessert Gallery. Not only did they have consistent branding — colors, fonts, menus, welcoming and comforting decore, beautiful displays — they had delicious treats. As you can see below, I have not been able to contain my excitement over this slice of Unicorn cake! We also got some “The World’s Best Brownies” and some Monkey Bars to take home for later ☺️ I recently went though the brand refresh for Rice Athletics. During that process, I faced a little push back. Change is hard but what is even harder is facing the unknown. Many fans and alumni did not want something new but it is probably more to do with the uncertainty associated with what it could become than the actual end result.
After dozens of interviews, as a brand researcher and designer, I thought, “There is a clear need for change so it is better to support the process than fight it.” I would ask myself, “Why are people so reluctant? We have a well-thought out solution!" Then it hit me. On a hot summer day in Houston, I noticed my rear-view window decal was burnt off and disintegrating. As a proud alumna of Carnegie Mellon University, I wanted to buy a replacement. So I went scouring the Internet for the same exact sticker. No luck. Frustrated, I wondered why the bookstore or even Amazon would not sell such a simple and obvious item. It turns out that in the time since I graduated, the Athletics Department had done away with the old logo. I was looking for what I imagined to be current but it was no longer. I experienced that same sense of disappointment and confusion that Rice fans and alumni must have felt when something they were familiar with, had memories associated with, was not in-line with what they knew to be true. But the truth is, once you get the new sticker, see it on your car, build new associations, you quickly forget. You accept that it is out with the old and in with the new. Branding is that innate emotional connection that may need to be explained initially, then re-established and fostered. From there, it lives and breathes on its own. I am not afraid to admit it. But I maybe should be. My biggest flaw is lack of patience for incompetence. To me, incompetence is not the inability to do something but the inability to try to do it.
Say you are in an unfamiliar bathroom and attempting to draw a bath. You do not know how to convert water flow from the shower head to the tub spout: do you test all the levers until you get the desired result? Or, do you quickly resign yourself to not knowing and thus seek assistance? Or, do you just give up on the bath altogether? I have always had a curious mind. One of the first big words my dad taught me was "inquisitiveness." From then on, I used that word to describe myself. My life has been filled with questions and experiments: Who can teach me something I do not already know? What can I learn from him or her? When can I try a different approach? Where can I get more information? Why are we doing it this way? How does it work? If I just keep asking questions, then I will eventually get to the true cause. I do not quite get when people are too "hesitant" to try or simply lack the initiative. Why stay in the comfort zone when you can learn something new and exciting? Maybe challenging the status quo is seen as too aggressive a mindset, or lacking empathy, but to me, the pursuit of knowledge is empowering. Knowledge is fuel. Fuel stores energy to ultimately propel things forward. So, without knowledge and thus without fuel, you are at a standstill. You are no better than you were before. Wouldn't you want to improve your current condition? Wouldn't you want to at least try? But then again, if you do not even view bathing or utilizing every-day appliances, for instance, as an improvement, then maybe there are bigger issues at hand. I value learning so much that I have difficulty understanding how others do not share that same excitement in gathering new information or being exposed to new adventures - no matter how big or small. Education - whether informal, non-formal or formal - provides you with the toolkit to assess life and better tackle its challenges. Education can decrease poverty, violence and most "isms" - like racism, sexism, heterosexism, anti-antisemitism. With education, you begin to step outside the givens and make sense of information yourself. This reminds me of Plato's Cave: what we see and hear is what we believe. But unlike those prisoners, all we have to do is look around us to see the true cause of the shadows and actually face reality. Then what illuminates can also enlighten. I like that thought. But it is much easier said than done.
We create this never-ending list of "have tos" or as my mentor calls them "untils." I have to do this, that and the other thing then I will be happy. I will just wait until something better comes along. But while wearing our blinders and waiting for everything to fall into the line of sight, we miss out on so many even better opportunities just beyond. The most rewarding experiences in my life have been where I have given myself permission to stop moving the finish-line and stop competing in some imaginary race. When I give attention to the intention, there is no tension. And that is when I am happiest. Recruiting athletes for collegiate athletics has become a multi-million, if not billion dollar business. Instead of treating these athletes as the future adults of tomorrow, they are treated like commodities: how much money can he or she bring to our programs? What can they offer me? As a result, the process in a young athlete’s life has begun much earlier than in previous decades. It use to be that a sophomore or a junior in high school was at a prime age for recruitment. But now, there are 13- or 14-year-olds verbally committed to colleges. To put that into context, they have not even hit high school yet let alone puberty. Many coaches see something in them and want to lure them to their programs, often creating a sense of false hope or security. If the athlete gets injured, burned out or cannot handle the academics, for instance, the coach can easily dispose of them (but the reverse cannot be said for the athlete who wants to transfer out). As in the movie Hoop Dreams, Coach Pingatore was quick to recruit and demonstrate his fatherly nature towards his athletes, but also quick to move on once a place had been made vacant. And this was just in high school basketball. A quote that stuck out in the film: “One goes out the door, and another one comes in the door.” To many coaches, that is all their athletes are - commodities in an ever-turning revolving door.
After college, I coordinated U.S. Soccer’s training camps for their youth national teams and got exposure to this dynamic, from collegiate coaches. These players were the creme-de-la-creme in the sport and highly sought after by the top programs in the country. I was appalled at how much pressure is put on these young kids to make such huge life decisions at just 13, 14 or 15 years of age. As I spent nearly 18 hours each day with each age bracket for a week at a time, I got to know their personalities and could tell that they were not in any place to determine what schools they wanted to attend, what sort of athletic programs they wanted to be a part of, what sort of major they would be interested in years from now - they were normal young teenagers just trying to get a grip on what it meant to be growing up. I got to know the players fairly well and would communicate with them years down the line, to receive phone calls asking for advice about if they had made the right decision and whether not they should transfer. The ethical issue is two-fold. First, the athletes have not matured physically enough and therefore, the player they are at that young age may not be the same as five years down the line. The pressure of having to maintain a commitment, and a projected level of performance, to that university often leads to injuries before even entering the program. Second, the athletes have not matured mentally and emotionally enough to even know if they want to play that sport in college, or if they want to play a sport at all, let alone where or at what level. It puts an unbalanced emphasis on athletics over academics. I carry around my little notebook everywhere I go. I write down ideas, thoughts, inspiration, conversations, anything that I want to recall at a later date. Whenever I get a quiet moment, I enjoy flipping through one of my oldies (but goodies) and seeing what I thought was important on 9/21/2011 or what I learned on 7/1/2014. Filled with quotes, advice and lists, it is a tangible timeline of my personal and professional growth. What started off as a way to combat short-term memory loss quickly evolved into a passion for cataloging my thought processes and progress. Unlike a diary, each notebook portrays an objective record of mental ramblings, musings and insights. Like a textbook for "Life University," it tracks my most precious moments and allows me to get back inside my head to re-educate and re-iterate important lessons. With dozens of books stacked away for safe keeping, I look forward to one day organizing all the nuggets of wisdom and pinpointing the exact date that I became the person I am today. Born to a conservative Irish father, I initially felt like my decision was an act of defiance, rebelling against the norm. I wanted to play soccer but in 1993, there was not a local girls’ team. I did not understand why I could not play so I tried out for the boys’ team. The coach told me that it would be unfair to take a spot away from a boy but if I proved worthy, he would give me a shot. Not only did I make a boy’s team, I made the "A" team and earned a starting position, but not without great expense. I had to constantly explain to my teammates and their parents, and opponents, and anyone else who was offended by the thought of a ponytail on the field why I deserved to be there. However, my biggest critic was my own father. He believed sports should be played within their own gender silos; it was sacrilege for a girl to play among boys. Here I was, his own flesh and blood, disrupting the peace. No matter how bad it got, my mom would still sneak me off to practice and I would continue to rush home after school everyday and train for hours on my own to make sure I maintained my spot on the starting squad. I was determined to be the dark horse. To my five-year-old self, I could not understand why it mattered that I was a girl on a boys’ team, especially if I had the skills to back it up. It made no difference to me so why should it to them? I realized at an early age that nobody – no matter gender, economic or social background – should be prevented from playing sport.
I went on to play collegiate soccer at Carnegie Mellon University (on the women’s team this time) and suffered a terrible concussion in practice at the end of my freshman year, adding another notch to a series of blows to the head. All it took was a carelessly thrown shoulder to my neck for me to lose consciousness and experience years of debilitating pain – physical, mental and emotional. The next thing I knew, I struggled with the simple things that I took for granted: I could not pronounce certain words or string together a sentence; I could not walk in a straight line or step up stairs; I could not sit in a room without being bothered by the subtleties of noise; I could not work on school assignments without falling asleep from mental exhaustion; I could not go for a run without blacking out. That is only part of the list of "No Can Dos." There were so many things my mind and body use to be able to do so effortlessly but could no longer. The moment I realized how bad my mental function was, was when my neurologist gave me a seemingly easy task: to name as many animals as I could in 60 seconds. Confidently, I started riddling off species. Little did I know that when the clock ran out, I had only four on the final list. To me, what sounded like dozens of animals was just a lack of short-term memory, and I had instead repeated dog, cat, elephant and lion over and over again. As I was faced with similar obstacles, I viewed each as opportunities – opportunities to improve my agility. I had to adapt and improve my side step. Ultimately, I had two choices: I could wallow in my own sadness and resort to never being “normal” again or I could pull myself up by my bootstraps and keep trying. I chose the latter and continue to claw my way up those walls. After two years of spending countless weeks at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center (UPMC) rehabilitation center where the Pittsburgh Steelers, Penguins and University of Pittsburgh athletes also frequent, I re-learned to walk and talk, adapted to sensory sensitivity, learned how to multitask and exercise without blacking out and eventually recovered from most of my incapacitating symptoms. It has been an ongoing process for continued growth but one day I am hoping for a total transformation. During this entire process, I had to hang up my boots. That meant I was stripped of my identity – an identity I had spent the past 20 years shaping. I was absolutely devastated. Who am I without wearing the uniform? It has always been about the name on the front of the jersey but now I had to consider what was next for the one on the back. After 20 years, I may not be an athlete in the conventional sense any more but I refuse to be pulled away from the game that made me. The concussion(s) forced me to put life into perspective. I grew even more determined to chisel out my new identity and still head towards goal but a different sense of the word. I want to establish myself in other aspects of sport; I want to be more than just an athlete but a champion for equality in sports. I am a spokesperson for Title IX, as I assisted with the ESPN 40th anniversary initiative, coach and mentor young players, advocate for a larger women’s sports presence in mainstream media, and work to sustain a professional women’s soccer league in the United States. Now, instead of tackling players, I tackle challenges and unique projects in the workforce. In a sense, I have not put a different name on the front of my jersey – I am playing for Equality. The team may change, whether it is for Women’s Rights or African American Rights, but the club is the same. We often define diversity by gender and race, and then potentially expand it into sexuality, but we often overlook disability. I, too, was naïve to my own disability. It is not as salient as others’ – those with visual reminders like prosthetics. To me, it is the invisible piece of my identity puzzle that nobody can ever understand but it is there and it can be crippling. But, enabling others to find their missing puzzle pieces has become something that I have become passionate about as a leader in sports. I had to find a new identity within sports without identifying solely as a former athlete. It was one of the most challenging experiences for me, as someone who had spent the majority of my life identifying with the mentality: I am competitive, highly motivated, hard-working and devoted. But I had to find a way to transfer those qualities into something productive while working with others towards a common goal. I am drawn to the camaraderie, passion and focus, and needed an outlet. I believe that others who have had similar experiences need to have support groups to know that all is not lost. I refuse to let my crucible moment define me but let my reaction to it instead. I can only hope the experience can transition me from that dark horse into a white stallion. With in the University of Central Florida DeVos Sport Business program, we had to interview ourselves so below are my answers... As I sit riverside in Canada, I wonder why life can't always be this gentle and calm. In stark contrast is the other 51 weeks of the year spent weaving through foot traffic at subway stations, adhering to strict deadlines and frazzled by slowpokes. I thrive off chaos but welcome the serenity when it comes. I love to go for long walks - partially because I'm nursing a foot injury and can't go for substantial runs anymore - but really because it allows for me to saunter. It reminds me of one day during my freshman fall at Carnegie Mellon. Professor Dr. Scott Sandage didn't show up for class but instead left some form of: "Class won't happen today. But, I ask that you use this time wisely and go saunter" on the blackboard. For this reason, "saunter" has become one of my favorite and most-used words. To saunter is to walk in a slow, relaxed manner without worry or effort. To Henry David Thoreau, it's much more complicated yet paradoxically simpler than that. To him, it's "the art of walking." The word saunterer can derive from "sainte-terrer," which means a holy leader (someone in search of the holy land) or perhaps, from "sans terre" which means without land or home. Both hit at the notion that those who understand the art of walking have no particular home because everywhere is equally hospitable. So back in Pittsburgh, during the next meeting, my classmates and I were asked what we learned during our sauntering sessions. Did we notice the bas-relief of Benjamin Franklin on the building we pass every single day? No. Did we hear the birds chirping when otherwise we would only notice students bustling on their way to class? Did we smell the fresh cut grass? Or run our fingers along the uneven surface of the bench that overlooks the tennis courts? Did we even use that time to saunter or did we just go back to the dorms to sleep? After reading Thoreau's "Walden Pond" and Ralph Waldo Emerson's "Self-Reliance," I became fascinated by their ever-present thoughtfulness and introspective nature. I began to make it a priority to view the world through their eyes and march to the beat of their drummer. When you stop for a moment, and truly take in your surroundings, you realize how much of life you're missing. It's a sad (initially) but then an uplifting realization. I often get so absorbed by my environment and trapped in my own head that I ignore the senses and what they are trying to tell me. Once you start to acknowledge their power and the influence they have on your life, it opens up so many more opportunities.
Not only can nature be reinvigorating, revitalizing, refreshing, it encourages self-analysis and provides opportunity to evaluate everything in life. When you take the time to take in your surroundings, time seems to slow. Your heart rate begins to drop. Your breathing gets deeper. Your thoughts become more insightful, more appreciative. I can only equate it to the instant gratification after long withdrawal, that sigh of relief, that shot of euphoria. A friend recently told me that the challenge is not in making a decision, but rather in making that decision actually be realized. How many times have we stood in the same place far too long, just hoping for a sign with a nod of approval to proceed in one direction or another? Far too frequently, unfortunately. And as the wise John Lennon preached, "Life is what happens when you are too busy making plans." It's in the planning that we somehow overlook the doing, the making, the seeing, the experiencing - the actual living. It's not the indecision in finding an optimal solution, regardless of whether it is ideal. It's more the fear of leaving the secure and the familiar for a land of unknowns.
We're primed at an early age to calculate, to know what we want to do the second we can string words together into a coherent sentence. But I always felt many of those who knew they "wanted" to be a lawyer, doctor, dentist, or something else that requires tremendous foresight at such a young age, were just prodded in that professional track because of prestige or tradition. Peer pressure can be a far more powerful and dangerous thing when the wrong motivations permeate thought processes. For the longest time, I thought I knew my dream job but it wasn't until I got to test drive it that I realized I needed to wake up. It was far from heaven. So far in fact that now I'm back to square one, ashamed to say I don't know what I want to do when I grow up. But after informational interviews with hundreds of people in various roles in various industries, I have come to terms with my ambiguity. Those most successful didn't have a plan logged step-by-step but instead let intuition and opportunity lead the way. It's not luck but strategic placement - and watchful eyes - that make the unforeseeable suddenly seem clear. They knew the bare minimum - they liked (fill in the blank with any topic), planning events, collaborating with others, telling stories, managing finances, discussing current events. But they didn't know then what that translated to in the professional / corporate world. I highly doubt anyone went to college for a history degree specializing in World War II warfare with the intent to program a TV guide for a major network. You could speak to a million people and get a million different perspectives. To every question asked, you would receive a million different answers. There's never one and only one correct answer. You could plug in all suggestions into an Excel formula and it'll spit out some statistical pattern but not a fail-proof solution. And that's daunting considering the sample size. Some people take the more obvious and methodical route while others carve out a more circuitous and chiefly unique path. The twists and turns may not seem direct but each curve provides an entirely new journey in which you learn from experiences. Those ultimately provide different interpretations and reactions that are specific to you and your needs. It's not a lack of focus, it's a general appreciation for learning and passion for growth. I far more respect those who know their power to be more than something previously defined. I want to do something that I know doesn't exist yet. Why wait for someone to leave before you can fill their shoes? You'll always be compared to the ones before you. You have different skills, experiences, backgrounds, contacts, approaches and opinions that allow you to bring something entirely new to the table. It's always refreshing to speak to people who value the present over the future. They would rather live paycheck-to-paycheck in order to really be rewarded in life altering interactions and memories - experiences that revolutionize how you view the world and invigorate you in such a way that you're motivated to change the world - someway, somehow. Those people are not afraid of uncertainty nor do they fear consequence. Maybe that's reckless or stupidly courageous, but I envy them for their strength to overcome what it is that often paralyzes others from moving forward, from tackling those goals that just seem so unrealistic, from acknowledging that failure often begets success. Nobody ever learned from doing it right the first time. Upsets make eventual triumphs so much sweeter. So without having taken the first drive, why assume you'll automatically drown? To live life upstream, you must keep swimming. And with that, I recently misused a metaphor for the sake of proving a different point - I feel like a sheep, albeit a black sheep, but a sheep nonetheless. I don't cause disgrace upon my family but rather reflect an unusual breed within a common species that sticks out for reasons beyond control, misunderstood by my peers but no way willing to be sheered of the qualities that define me. We arrived in Jerusalem on Shabbat. After services and dinner, everyone else made plans to stay near the hotel for the evening. But I had my own agenda. I quickly changed into my gear and jumped in a taxi, arriving at 11pm. I was told there would be a pickup game at that time but the park was completely deserted. I wandered around, hoping to find someone to ask where to find it. Far off in the distance, I saw bright lights. So I gravitated towards the only signs of life and was greeted by a dozen young boys, all of whom spoke Arabic.
I realized then that I would not be spotting any Israeli Jews on the court because of what day it was - the day of rest. Despite my U.S. Soccer shorts and tee, my American accent, my Jewish star necklace and my gender, they let me join. The wonderful thing about The Beautiful Game is that you can find it anywhere around the globe, especially in the form of pickup. My friend Gwendolyn Oxenham documented the phenomenon in her film "Pelada" where she traveled the world with her husband and two close friends in search of the stripped down game. One of the locations shot was in Jerusalem, where I currently stood. Her documentary confirmed that soccer is a universal language unto itself. Through hand gestures and all sorts of body language, you can communicate your intentions. It does not matter if you are tall or short, young or old, skinny or overweight, male or female, gay or straight, white or black, American or Israeli, Jewish or Muslim, you can still play the game as long as you can play the game. Despite me being everything they were not, I played with the young boys until grown men showed up just after midnight. I then continued to play with the new group. No problems there either. I slotted some promising through balls, scored a few integral goals and defended against some feisty forwards. Despite my successes, they would not give me high-fives or defend me properly because I was a woman, and according to their religion, men do not touch the opposite sex. The most profound moment came when I took a hard shot at goal, missed and screamed, "Oh my G-d!" What was meant to be an exasperated frustration turned into a revelation when a teammate asked, "To which G-d do you refer?" It was then that I really acknowledged I was in the birthplace of three prominent religions and the home to devout religious followers. Surprisingly, my answer did not bother him, and we continued to play. My team won by two, and we all said our goodnights. No harm, no foul, just an appreciation for the global sport that brought us together against many odds. If we all could co-exist without judgement or blame on the soccer field then the only thing that really mattered was the game. Sport has the potential to be a microcosm of society. It is the first to break barriers and encourage empowerment, diversity, inclusion and social justice. It is the universal language that allows anyone from anywhere in the world to communicate with one another. When you get into that huddle at a local pickup game, your race, gender, religion, socio-economic status all disappear because you cannot win unless you all pull together. Sport has the power for social change at the macro-level, if we only enable it to reach its potential. After years of contemplation, I finally caved. Yes, I'm launching a blog! I was worried about continual upkeep since it can be time-consuming and I don't have much time. Then I thought, what would I write that others would want to read? But I realized, most blogs are just about the author anyways so why not keep a log of my conversations, insights and opinions? Maybe someone else will find them valuable.
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