Posted in Uncategorized

How My Dad Used To Irritate Me

My dad used to irritate me.

When I was young, I once phoned him to see if he would give me a ride home from work.

“Are you on the east side or the west side of the mall, Derek?” He asked.

“I don’t know, dad. I’m right next to the Chili’s,” I answered.

“Is that east or west of the mall?” He persisted.

“It’s west of China, dad,” I said, growing impatient. “Does that help?” Truth be told, I didn’t really know if it was west of China. My grasp of geography was — and continues to be — woefully inadequate, which is why this conversation seemed so pointless to me. That was my dad, though. His thinking was very structured, and he expected the same from his children.

Still, after I hung up, determined to walk home rather than buy a compass, he picked me up anyway. Turns out I was on the east side of the mall — and heading the wrong way.


On the way home, he told me to use the Rocky Mountains as a guide.

“They’re west,” he explained.

I relied on that tidbit for as long as I lived in Colorado. I continued to get lost on a regular basis, but I found it oddly comforting.

My dad irritated me when I was going to college too.

First, he stipulated that I take a physics class and, then, he insisted my twin brother and I get a job, instead of lying around the house all day.

This second, thoroughly unreasonable, demand was made as we were preparing to watch the Kentucky Derby. Just as the horses were parading to post, my dad came into the living room, turned off the TV, and commanded that we “get off our lazy duffs and get a job.”

Really, I thought, you couldn’t have waited 10 minutes? How would you like it if I’d turned off Louis Rukeyser right before he delivered one of his sizzling puns on “Wall Street Week,” a show my dad watched regularly, along with a host of other boring programs.

My dad irritated me when I was a little kid as well.

After a full day of emulating Evel Knievel on one’s bike or playing in the culvert with friends, what tastes better than an ice-cold Coke or Pepsi? (This was the late ‘70s, there were no video games to kill your friends with — you had to do it manually.)

If you answered a flat, tasteless Shasta Cola, call me, we may be related.

Oh, it’s not like my siblings and I didn’t try to get my dad to buy us Coke or Pepsi — we did. But every time we put it in the grocery cart, he’d say, “Too expensive. Put it back.”

I can’t speak for my brother or sister, but I think I stocked the shelves at Safeway more than some of the employees. Soda, canned goods, deli items… heck, I started bringing items from home that I thought I’d paid too much for. Back on the shelf!

Even as an adult my dad used to irritate me.

Whenever I’d complain about the way life was treating me — often like an outhouse at a chili cookoff — he would ask me logical questions about what I could do to improve my situation.

Ain’t nobody got time for that!

My dad made me learn math and physics, made me work for what I received; he taught me the importance of conservation and how to budget. He taught me logic and how to accept the things I couldn’t change, change the things I could.

I can only hope I irritate my kids as much as he used to irritate me.

Elvis D. Simon (Oct. 30, 1930 – Jan. 14, 2021)

Posted in Satire

MLB Steroid Scandal Expands to Fans

Just when it looked like the Major League Baseball steroid scandal was in the rearview mirror, MLB sources have reported that yet another investigation into illegal drug activity has been launched. Only this time, the focus of the probe isn’t MLB players, it’s MLB fans.

According to law enforcement officials, the newest fiasco began when Timothy Little, 27, of Brighton, Mass. admitted to federal prosecutors that, from 2000-2004, he and many of his friends — all fans of the Boston Red Sox — began “juicing up” before attending games at Fenway Park.

“We were always hearing about New York fans and Philadelphia fans — how loud and obnoxious they were — and we wanted that same reputation here in Boston,” Little told reporters outside of a Massachusetts courthouse recently. “The trouble is, when you’re small, you don’t intimidate anyone — unless you’re crazy, like Phil Spector or something.

“Before I started doing ‘roids, I remember yelling ‘Jeter you suck’ one time, at the top of my lungs, and he just turned and gave me this pitying smile. I felt like such an idiot,” recalled Little, referring to an incident involving New York Yankees’ all-star shortstop Derek Jeter.

Little said that limited funds kept coveted “designer” steroids reputedly used by Major League Baseball stars like Barry Bonds, Jose Canseco and others out of reach, but the 27-year-old noted that he and his buddies had little trouble securing a hodge-podge of cheaper knock-offs. 

“We used to just walk the route of the Pro Cycling Tour after it came through Boston — it was amazing how much stuff we found,” beamed Little, “ … a bit of this, a bit of that — before long, we’d have several month’s worth.”

And the results, said Little, were astounding.

“I went from 150 pounds to 210 in three years and I got my revenge on Jeter,” he related with an impish grin. “I’ll never forget. It was Oct. 18, 2004, American League Championship Series, Red Sox down three games to one at Fenway.

“Jeter doubled in the sixth to give New York a 4-2 lead when, miraculously, the Sox tied it in the bottom of the eighth. Then, in the top of the 12th, Miguel Cairo singles and who’s up? Jeter.”

Little paused, his eyes watering, as the memories came flooding back.

“So I yell, ‘Jeter you suck’ and, just like before, he turns. But this time I reach down, rip off my left testicle and hurl it at him. I miss, of course. I mean, that thing was so small and shriveled I could barely even hold onto it — it’s true what they say, you know — but guess what? Jeter wasn’t smiling. In fact, he wound up lining out that at-bat — and he went just 2-of-10 for the rest of the series.”

Although the Red Sox won the World Series that year, age, wisdom and perhaps a low sperm count have led Little to question his past steroid use.

“Even though I always said I’d give my left nut if the Sox could win the Series, I’m not so sure it was worth it,” he sighed. “Heck, I was shooting up so much back then, I still can’t sit down for longer than 15 minutes. Why do you think all these rabid fans are always standing or doing the wave? Steroids are everywhere.”

Authorities say they are looking into cases of illicit drug use in other Major League cities, but have ruled out investigating fans in Canada and the state of Florida.

“Everybody knows their fans stink, so there’s no point,” one official noted.

Posted in Uncategorized

Do it Today!

I discovered weightlifter C.T. Fletcher on Youtube and instantly liked his attitude and his, uh, “unique” way of expressing himself (note: if swearing — a lot — offends you, it might be wise to forego watching the following video).

Despite his devotion to fitness, however, Fletcher inherited a condition that led to open heart surgery in 2005, during which, his heart stopped functioning not once, but three times.

“Every time I go to the doctor, they tell me what I shouldn’t be doing and what I should be doing and what I won’t do.” Fletcher told in 2017. “And, after that, I go out the door and do whatever the [expletive] I want to do. And, I’m gonna do that until they throw dirt on top of me. This is my life. And I choose to live it the way I want to.”

Now 59 years old, Fletcher is very aware of the value of time, which is something I very much relate to.

The fact is time is one thing we have very little control over… yet we pretend that we do.

I’ll do it tomorrow!

Someday, I’m going to go to [pick a place].

I’ll work this job for a little while — even though I hate it — and, then, pursue what I really like afterwards.

No, no, no. As is proven every single day, there might not be a tomorrow. There might not be a someday or an afterwards.

Do what you love TODAY. Leave toxic work environments and toxic people TODAY.

Featured photo by Joshua Earle on Unsplash.

Posted in Uncategorized

Goodbye to Horse Racing

This will be my last horse racing column (at least for the foreseeable future) — and it has proven to be one of the most difficult I have ever written.

I went to the racetrack for the first time when I was in junior high, about five years before my mom was diagnosed with cancer for the first time and when my stepdad, Dennis, still had a killer jump shot, which he would demonstrate — often — in family games on our half-dirt, half-weeds backyard “basketball court”.

Longacres Racecourse was located just a few miles from our house in Renton, Washington and, one day, my parents suggested we check it out.

“Why would we want to spend a whole day watching horses run around in a circle?” I asked, drawing nods of agreement from my twin brother and younger sister.

Cheery optimists we were not.

“It’ll be fun,” my mom assured us.

So, with all the enthusiasm of the condemned on their way to the gallows, my siblings and I piled into the family car for our trip to the track.

Little did I know then that I was embarking on the journey of a lifetime.

During my junior and senior years in high school, I spent more time reading the Daily Racing Form (the horseplayer’s Wall Street Journal) than I did my schoolbooks — a reality that my grades clearly reflected.

And I didn’t abandon my childhood love when I became an adult either. If anything, my bond with the Sport of Kings grew stronger with each passing year, particularly since my work career often resembled Ryan Leaf’s stint in the NFL — filled with disappointment and anger, but minus an $11.25 million signing bonus.

In fact, it’s fair to say that the game consumed me, as I began spending more and more of my time learning how to “handicap,” which is sports gambling jargon for the art/science of selecting winners. While many of my friends were doing normal things, like talking quietly in libraries and walking carefully with scissors (I never said my friends were exciting), I was reading books by Andrew Beyer, James Quinn and William L. Scott (not his real name, incidentally, making the inclusion of a middle initial very perplexing).

I even had my first serious relationship hit the skids when, one morning, my soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend accused me of caring more about the first race at Aqueduct than I did about her.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said in astonishment. “I care just as much about the second race. There’s a daily double, you know!”

It was even difficult to distinguish what subject my college notebooks pertained to, as they were often filled with scribbling like this:


But I just knew that one day I would have a career in horse racing; though, as the years went quickly by, I suspect even Anthony Robbins would’ve told me, “Hey, look man, it’s not going to happen. Give it up!”

Eventually, I found success (take that, Robbins!). I started my own horse racing website, hosted a racing podcast and, eventually, got the attention of major players in the industry.

After persistent hounding on my part, I was hired by Youbet — probably to stop me from writing the company letters every week — and, with the help of a great marketing director, I quickly became the most popular writer on the site.

As a result, my contract was picked up by when Churchill Downs, Inc. acquired Youbet a few years later and, after it expired, I went to work for US Racing.

Overall, my time as the editorial director of USR has been a lot of fun. The site has experienced tremendous growth and I’m very proud of what my colleagues and I have accomplished. But on June 9, 2018, everything changed for me.

For it was on that day that Justify became the 13th winner of the Triple Crown — consisting of the Kentucky Derby, Preakness and Belmont Stakes — and I felt… nothing. As my fellow racing fans gushed and cried, extolling the virtues of this wonderful horse, I watched without passion, without joy, without any feeling at all. It was just another horse, at just another track, on just another day.

Now, I won’t bore you with what happened next. Suffice it to say that I blamed nearly everything in my life for what is blatantly obvious to me now. It is never easy letting go of a first love, especially one that has endured for the better part of your life, but that is the reality I have come to accept.

I spent over 30 years of my life passionate about watching horses run around in a circle all day. I cherish the memories of Chinook Pass, Belle of Rainier, Gary Henson, Jody Davidson, Frank Best, Gary Stevens (who was twice the leading rider at Longacres before finding greater fame in Southern California), the Baze family, and Clint and Tom Roberts.

If I close my eyes and concentrate hard enough I can still remember being among the infield throng gathered on a beautiful Seattle day to watch local hero Trooper Seven win his second consecutive Longacres Mile.

I can recall taking my mom to the track on a particularly soggy Mother’s Day and how my repeated reminder that it was “Mudder’s Day” soon lost its charm. (In retrospect, I don’t think she wanted to be there, rain or shine, but she went for me.)

I can also remember my many trips to the track with Dennis. Once, we lightly hit a car in front of us in our haste to make first post and Dennis apologized to the other driver by explaining that we had a “hot pick in the first race at Longacres.”

The guy didn’t seem particularly impressed, but, since there was no real damage done, he let us resume our journey without calling the police… oh, it probably goes without saying that the hot pick lost.

Look, I realize that everyone experiences the loss of love at some point. It is as much a part of living as breathing. In many ways, I consider myself lucky to have felt it so profoundly only this once. Sure, I’ve had relationships end, but racing occupied a place in my heart that was special and unique. It was my Field of Dreams — initially, a connection to my stepdad and, later, to my past.

Racing Pull Quote

And, if I’m honest, I think it is for this reason I stayed in the industry as long as I did. I yearn to go back to that poor excuse for a basketball court and play one more game with Dennis; I ache to see my mom again — my real mom, not the one who was sick and in pain for so long. I desperately want my kids to know the people who raised me, so they have someone to blame.

But they are both long gone. And it is clear to me now that not even my memories of racing can bring them back anymore. Too much time has passed.

So, like one of T.S. Eliot’s hollow men, I leave the industry as I entered it: not with a bang, but with a whimper. I am profoundly grateful to have had the opportunity to accomplish my greatest life goal (up to this point) and I hope that, someday, I can find my passion for horse racing again.

Featured photo of Dennis and I watching the races.

Posted in Uncategorized

How to Succeed by Limiting Your Options

“You should be afraid of taking risks and pursuing something meaningful, but you should be more afraid of staying where you are if it’s making you miserable.”
—Jordan Peterson

One of the things Tony Robbins preaches is that, if you really want to succeed, you need to “burn your [colorful adjective] boats.”

It’s a great statement, rooted in the notion that success is born of commitment.

Most believe the idea came from Cortes, the Spanish explorer who supposedly burned his entire fleet of ships upon reaching Mexico in 1519. And while scholars dispute the details of this incendiary tale — they claim Cortes didn’t burn his boats at all, but, instead, ran all but one aground and physically stripped them of their ability to sail — the intent was clear. Cortes didn’t want his men to have any means of retreat in their impending battle against the Aztecs.

“We’re all in and there’s no turning back” Cortes wrote in his journal, adding that his men had “nothing to rely on, apart from his own hands, and the assurance that they would conquer and win the land, or die in the attempt.”

I think there’s a lot to be said for this “no surrender” attitude.

Comedian, actor and television host Steve Harvey puts it another way. While he might not be well-suited for a career as a crisis team member, Harvey urges everybody seeking success to “jump.”

It’s an idea that is both appealing and terrifying at the same time, but it is something that I think is necessary.

Featured photo by Web Agency on Unsplash.

Posted in Uncategorized

What Going to the Gym Has Taught Me About Life

“You have to build calluses on your brain just like how you build calluses on your hands. Callus your mind through pain and suffering.”
—David Goggins

There’s an old gym adage that I’ve always believed in: no pain, no gain.

No, this doesn’t mean you should crush your fingers between two weights and lose a fingertip, like I did a few years ago. It refers to lactic acidosis, or the buildup of lactic acid in the muscles, which can cause a burning sensation that is often very painful.

I tend to reach this lactate threshold fairly quickly and, while the science isn’t altogether clear on the role that lactate plays in muscle growth, I have always found it useful. Yeah, I know that’s “bro science” at its worst, but Dr. George Brooks, a professor of integrative biology of the University of California at Berkeley, backs me up — well, kind of.

“Lactate is not a waste product, and in fact, it is the most important [new glucose generator] in the body.”

In other words, Dr. Brooks is saying: “Dude, you gotta feel the burn to get the gainz [always with a ‘z’, my friends].”

But, on a serious note, if this notion of “no pain, no gain” works in the gym, why don’t more of us utilize it in our everyday lives? I asked myself this question recently after watching a video featuring David Goggins.

For those who don’t know who Goggins is, suffice it to say that he is the biggest badass on the planet. And he has a saying: “Embrace the suck.”

Photo from

Goggins believes that, just like in the gym, our greatest growth comes from welcoming pain into our lives. Rather than playing to our strengths, we should focus on our weaknesses, Goggins says.

“We’re not gonna triple down on our strengths. We’re not gonna do that crap. We’re gonna work on our weaknesses so we grow. We need friction to do that. Without friction, there’s no growth. Without friction, there’s confusion.”

I realize — and I can’t pinpoint why or when it first began — that I’ve spent too much time in my life seeking comfort. I don’t have a lot of real close friends, but the ones that I do have I’ve leaned on too heavily for support… only, recently, it hasn’t been working.

In retrospect, I think this is due to the fact that I know in my heart that only I can make the changes necessary for me to find happiness again — if, in fact, that’s even the goal. I’m not really sure it is for me.

John Greenleaf Whittier once wrote, “For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, ‘It might have been’.”

I love that quote. And, in the same video I referenced earlier, Goggins gives his own unique take on it — which I found incredibly moving.

WARNING: Strong language.

Look, I’m not a religious guy, but I do believe that we should all strive to maximize our potential… and I know I haven’t. Being happy is not going to change that; family and friends are not going to change that.

Only I can.

Posted in Uncategorized

Why Silent Dreams Are Destined to Remain That Way

“All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.”
­—Walt Disney

I really like this clip (for the full video, go to MotivationGrid). I know a lot people don’t like publicly sharing their dreams for a variety of reasons, but I can’t help but think the biggest reason is fear — fear of being laughed at, fear of being told they can’t do it, fear of not really believing themselves that they can do it.

Connor MacGregor’s dreams were ridiculous. Arnold Schwarzenegger’s dreams were ridiculous. The Wright brothers’ dreams were ridiculous.

We should all strive to have ridiculous dreams.

Featured photo by Denys Nevozhai in Unsplash.

Posted in Uncategorized

Where Does Happiness Come From?

“Folks are usually about as happy as they make their minds up to be.”
― Abraham Lincoln

Given that it’s been a while since I posted anything here, my intent was to write something eloquent and meaningful — in other words, something completely different from my previous posts.

But as I was doing some other work — work that actually pays the bills — a video came on that grabbed my attention (often, when I’m in my office, I’ll play YouTube videos, sometimes for motivation and sometimes just for background music or sound).

Before I discuss the video, though, a little background information is in order.

Contrary to the view of Charles Barkley in the famous — or infamous, depending on your point of view — 1993 Nike commercial, I’ve always wanted to be a role model and to help people if/when I could. In fact, this desire in me is so strong that psychologists even have a name for it — the “savior complex”.

According to the People Skills Decoded website, “The savior complex is a psychological construct which makes a person feel the need to save other people. This person has a strong tendency to seek people who desperately need help and to assist them, often sacrificing their own needs for these people.”

Now, lest you think I believe this is a good thing and that I start each day with a smile on my face for being such a great person — I don’t. In truth, I think my need to make people happy is often counterproductive and even destructive… which brings me back to the video.

It’s three and a half minutes long and features Will Smith discussing the difference between fault and responsibility. The whole thing is worth listening to, but the part that really got me was when Smith said: “Your heart, your life, your happiness is your responsibility and your responsibility alone.”

One day, I’m going to accept that.


Featured photo by Ben Rosett on Unsplash.

Posted in Uncategorized

New England Patriots Illustrate American’s Disdain for Success

You will face your greatest opposition when you are closest to your biggest miracle.
— Shannon L. Alder

I’ll be rooting for the New England Patriots today.

Not because I’m a fan, mind you — I’m a Seattle native and a longtime Denver resident — so rooting against the Patriots has felt as natural as wheezing in the Mile High City’s thin air after a five-block run… not that I would ever attempt such a ridiculous feat.

No, I’ll be cheering on New England for a different reason — to celebrate success.

Since Sept. 30, 2001, when a 24-year-old Tom Brady took over as the starting quarterback from Drew Bledsoe, who was injured in the previous game, the Patriots have accumulated a 220-65 regular season record and have been to the playoffs 16 times — with a 29-10 record and five Lombardi trophies to show for their efforts.

In the new millennium, no other team has even come close to that level of achievement. New England’s 29 postseason wins since 2000 is nearly double the 15 recorded by the Pittsburgh Steelers and Baltimore Ravens, who are tied for second. In fact, the Patriots’ all-time playoff winning percentage (they were 7-10 prior to the arrival of Brady and head coach Bill Belichick) is the highest in history.

Think about that. The Patriots have a higher postseason win rate (64.3 percent) than the Green Bay Packers (60.7 percent), San Francisco 49ers (60.0 percent), Pittsburgh (59.0 percent) and Dallas Cowboys (55.6 percent).

As former Cowboys head coach Jimmy Johnson might say: “How ‘bout them Patriots?”


Yet, despite this, the boys from Boston are largely despised.

A 2017 poll found that not only was New England the most disliked team in the NFL (right ahead of the Cowboys — sorry, Jimmy), the Patriots were thought of “negatively” by 42 percent of the poll respondents as well.

What’s more, 24 percent disliked the (younger) man named Brady.

Of course, folks will come up with all kinds of reasons for the lack of love — from the Patriots videotaping opponents to deflating their balls — but I think most people abhor Brady and his New England teammates for one reason: they’re too good.

And being too successful is a red flag to many in our country.

In a column that appeared in The Washington Post, authors Charles Mathewes and Evan Sandsmark viewed this as a good thing and lamented the fact that attitudes on the subject seem to be changing.

“We used to think that having vast sums of money was bad and in particular bad for you — that it harmed your character, warping your behavior and corrupting your soul. We thought the rich were different, and different for the worse,” they wrote.

“Today, however, we seem less confident of this. We seem to view wealth as simply good or neutral, and chalk up the failures of individual wealthy people to their own personal flaws, not their riches. Those who are rich, we seem to think, are not in any more moral danger than the rest of us.”

Source: Pew Research Center

Mathewes and Sandsmark aren’t speaking out of their rear orifices either. According to a 2012 Pew Research Center poll, 55 percent of the U.S. population believed rich people were “more likely” to be greedy, while 34 percent believed they were “less likely” to be honest.

Yet, recent surveys also show that over half the country’s adult population plays state lotteries — presumably so they too can become greedy and dishonest.

This is especially amazing when one considers that, according to yet another poll (sorry for going George Gallup on everybody) only 13 percent of Americans say “being wealthy” is “very important to them.”

So, is there confusion over the lottery prizes? Do people think winning Powerball means a free package of Slim Jims and a Big Gulp? (Granted, I’d play for that, but only because I really like Slim Jims for their artery-clogging properties.)

Tom Brady is a good-looking guy with a model wife, a lot of money and seemingly ageless talent. The New England Patriots are a football dynasty in a salary-cap system specifically designed to prevent such dynasties.

Far from booing the Patriots, we should all be cheering them.

Brady was a sixth-round draft choice said to be too “skinny” and lacking “physical stature and strength,” while Belichick toiled for 15 years as an assistant coach before getting his first NFL head coaching job with the Cleveland Browns — where he was promptly fired after five years and a 36-44 overall record.

Frankly, I’d be happy to share a package of Slim Jims and a Big Gulp with either one of them — but they’re paying.

Featured photo by Pepi Stojanovski on Unsplash.

Posted in Uncategorized

Why NOT Going to the Gym Can Be a Great Idea

“Rest when you’re weary. Refresh and renew yourself, your body, your mind, your spirit. Then get back to work.”
—Ralph Marston

Because I’ve been so busy trying to get my new website up and running (more on that in a future post), I’ve been working a lot of hours. Consequently, prior to this evening, I hadn’t been to the gym in three days — a rarity for me.

But after my workout tonight, I was left wondering if longer breaks might, in fact, be a good thing. Not for the first time, I was amazed by how good I felt. My typical aches and pains were gone and I was tossing the weights around like fish at the Pike Place Market.

Even complete strangers noticed.

After one of my sets on the bench press, a guy nodded at me. “What was that,” he asked, “30 reps?”

“35,” I responded. (He later told me he’d just been released from prison, making me question the wisdom of correcting his math — but, damn it, don’t short me reps!)

According to bodybuilder Chris Zaino, rest is a key to making constant progress and, perhaps more importantly, avoiding injuries. Zaino suggests taking a week off after every 2-2 ½ months of steady training.

“After 8-10 weeks of continued training, you should give yourself a whole week off to fully recuperate. Physically, this will help the body heal any minor strains, sprains, tears, and joint pain you may have or are on the road to having,” wrote Zaino on the website. “It is not always that easy for a compulsive fitness warrior, such as many of you readers’ out there, to allow yourselves to take the time off. Some people may fear they will ‘de-condition’ if they take a week off.

“Trust me you will not. It takes around 3-4 weeks of total inactivity for your muscles to start atrophying, or breaking down muscle tissue. In fact, I guarantee that you will come back stronger and more refreshed than ever,” Zaino said.

Tanner Baze, a writer at (with a website name like that, you know you can trust the guy), was even more adamant. After training two hours a day non-stop for an extended period of time, Baze discussed a beach vacation he took.

He noted that he “drank a ton of beer, ate enough Whataburger to clog up 5 toilets, and didn’t do a damn thing but sit in a lawn chair on the beach.”

“I didn’t do anything that amounted to physical activity other than carry a cooler,” Baze wrote. “I came back into the gym the next week and had pretty much accepted that I’d lost all my gains thanks to that beach trip.

“What I noticed was that I was actually stronger than I was before I left. Not only was I stronger, but my nagging little injuries were nonexistent,” Baze concluded.

Minus the Whataburger issues, I can totally relate to what Baze said. That is exactly what I experienced tonight.

So, the next time I skip going to the gym, I won’t feel guilty. I’ll just tell myself I’m taking a much-needed rest.

Now, if I could only find a legitimate reason to eat pie…

Featured photo by Danielle Cerullo on Unsplash.