What is your deepest fear?

I love a good movie! We have Prime and Netflix so between the two, we must have access to 3000 or more movies, but the struggle is REAL in finding something that we both feel is worth the investment of a 5 minute preview. In some cases, the trailers help, but less than half of the movies that tweak our curiosity have trailers, so it's the age old roll o' the dice on some. Unfortunately for us, our batting average is not far off what the Blue Jays are these days, and that's disappointingly low ... in both cases.

Easily one of my favourite movies is Coach Carter, and at the risk of throwing a spoiler out into CyberSpace, it is well worth the time, even if you're not a huge basketball lover. The story centers around a real person, Coach Ken Carter, who returns to his alma mater after much personal success, as head coach for the varsity boys team, and along the way, changes the bulk of the team's lives through his unusually strict and demanding style. My favourite moment surrounds one of the more needy players, Timo Cruz, reciting a powerful quote in response to being challenged by Coach Carter, "What is your deepest fear?" The quote is originally from the book, A return to love, by Ms Marianne Williamson, 

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

The first time I watched the movie, I was as impressed by these words as most, but the deeper meaning escaped my understanding at the time, and only re-watching delivered the impact the screen writer intended. I had to rewind a couple of times to make sure I grasped its full message. I don't mind admitting that while it did not change my life in some Eureka moment, its urging did bring a sense of peace to me as I continued to pursue excellence nearing the end my career, and I do feel that I became a better coach because of it. By embracing successes with pride, despite what naysayers commented, I consciously urged my players to do the same that they would brighten their own darkness in a wholesome sense of accomplishment.

I was doom-scrolling recently and stumbled upon a little video with Lawrence Fishburne from the movie, Akeelah and the Bee, that was focused on this same quote, again meant to enlighten a young mind. I immediately recognized the quote from Coach Carter, and had to look into it a little deeper. Of course a message this powerful would be applicable in all manner of situations.

Somewhere along the way, as society developed the ability to share information more widely, we allowed the anxieties of other's insecurities to rob light from our successes to abate their fears of failure in an effort to diminish our celebrations of achievement. The goal was to taint success with warnings of negative emotions like arrogance or hubris, like we were directly responsible for their envy. In today's social media driven world, the visceral reactions to people's good fortune or skill is hard wired through negative feedback loops that play out on a daily basis, the immediate impact of negative self-talk visibly evident through non-verbal demonstrations. 

I personally endeavour to celebrate the successes of those around me in an effort to allow their light to shine like a beacon, and while I fall prey to rare occasions where those old negative thoughts arise, it's far easier than one might think to learn this new mindset, allowing the darkness of inadequacy to be abated, brightening our mood, our thoughts, and our expressions.

Give it a try ... what have you got to lose?

Go North young man!

Piggy baking on my last piece's theme of ruminating, I attempted to fill my already over capacity heart with even more positivism thanks largely to the overwhelming generosity of my amazing friend Ron Andrews. Most of you will already know that we spent multiple decades together, coaching our hearts out, but I might not have told you that he and his wife Cathy make room at their Shangri La on Muskoka's Kushog Lake for an annual "boy's night"of rowdy, robust, raucous, and radiant celebration of former Barrie Central teachers to fan the flames of our friendship.

This annual trek north began 18 years ago when Ron had the stroke of brilliance to share a night of celebration with his fellow Central rugby coaches, a gathering he said was a thank you in his role as HPE leader, but we all knew it had more to do with how much he loves a good party. We were reminded by Dale Burleigh that his wife was expecting their daughter way back then and she turns 18 in the near future, confirming the length of our tenure. As the year's rolled by, the invitations were extended to others, many who were coaches, but also those whose friendship was more enhanced, capping out at 21 (I think) a few years ago. Life gets in the way as we all age and some of our crew were forced to decline the standing invitation due to family commitments, health complications, or simple busyness. 

I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the toasts made to those that deeply desired to join but couldn't arrange the trek this year, their absence both impactful and significant ... here's to Jay, Craig, and Rob. Incredibly, just when we thought the night couldn't possibly get better, a FaceTime proved the proverbial icing on the cake!

The night is a BYOB ... bring your own booze-berth-BBQ-buffoonery ... affair that threatens the sinking of Ron's tinny as he transports the hoard across the waters of Kushog from the marina thanks to the coolers of BBQ items, choice of bevies, and buckets of ice to keep things fresh. Ron and Cathy have carved an virtual Nirvana from the Canadian Shield complete with all that one could wish for at a cottage, with the perfect mix of higher end finishes. The night always begins on his amazing lakeside deck where the bevies flow fast and furious, the potluck nibbles quenching all hunger, and the laughs full on belly busters. Being of like minds, and possessing refined senses of humour, the Santa-like booms of full decibel HOHOHO's can likely be heard far down the lake. The night outlasts the light, pushing the party toward the cottage's BBQ, all manner of caveman meals flame broiled with veggies either not seen, or waved ceremoniously over the meal in an vain attempt at nutrition, and we escape the bush's buggy onslaught thanks to wonders of Ron's engineering. 

Most of the stories are based in experiences from the Central years, retelling that is ripe with anticipation and acknowledgement, but these's always a new offering or three that leaves the group breathless in exasperation, like Burleigh's moving adventures ... inside joke. The over indulgence of said consumables eventually succumbs to the inevitable slumber, any plausible surface serving as a bed, and the short lived silence is broken by the snorts and rumbles of a male body well taxed. The whole affair culminates in a sumptuous breakfast effort designed to take the edge off the previous night's excess.

Considering the average age of our lot, combined with the recent sadness of passing Central colleagues, we annually pledge our continuing participation to each other, the cathartic uplifting of our souls worth the punishment to our organs, but widest smiles this round were reserved for Ron's proclamation, 

"Mark it in your calendars in perpetuity boys!"

Hear Hear!

Ruminating

I feel that I've arrived at that point in life where seemingly minor things or events prompt a cascade of thoughts about a variety of topics, not the least of which is Life's Journeys and how I'm filled with gratitude and appreciation. 

This beautiful little cherub is my grand daughter Wynnie, the first born of our daughter Maddi and her Boo Chris, and she very well may be the happiest child that I have ever interacted with. That's not to say that her mama wasn't happy or adorable or beautiful, but the combination of Maddi and Chris' gene pool has manifested an active, smiley, giggly, charismatic wee princess that melts your heart inside of 2 minutes each and every time. She is not without her frustrating elements, however, but they pale in comparison to the rest of her personality, and we see so much of her mom in her facial expressions, mannerisms, and behaviours, transporting us back in time to those first years of parenthood. It's actually uncanny how much she looks like our Maddi, but then you realize that all of the positive qualities from Chris are also mixed in there, much to the benefit of the grandparents.

On a recent trip for a snuggle and some giggles, Joyce and Maddi dug out some of the dresses that we had used those 32 years ago, and watching Wynnie stand there all proud and pleased with herself, a cascade of snippets came flooding out of my Hippocampus, and I don't mind admitting that it struck an emotional chord in my old wrinkled heart. 

The saying goes that our grandchildren are extensions of our children, and the love we feel for them is simply an extension of the love we've always had for our kids. We're not loving more, we're loving again through a different lens, at a different time in life, offering the joy of parenting without the daily stress, discipline, or financial pressure. This dynamic, backed by science and psychology, stems from several key factors of brain chemistry like psychological "redo", a second chance to nurture or perhaps right some parenting wrongs, or the notion of a generativity drive, an innate need to leave a legacy, and pouring themselves into the next generation brings a deep sense of purpose and fulfillment. (source: Goggle AI).

The spill over effect is on full blast, and the trip down Memory Lane sometimes overshoots, conjuring an unexpected source of yesteryear, moments recycled from times we are emotionally connected to through events that shaped who we became. I wrote a piece about one of my former football coach's passing (CLICK), and although I couldn't make it to the COL in Kingston, some of my buds from those years shared pics of the day, transporting me backwards to those years, complete with that early 80's style. 

As the wide assortment of activities reached a crescendo, it occurred to me that all of the memories were positively lit, likely a direct result of my grey mater tainting them with the upside, not unlike being a grandparent, bringing this whole piece full circle! I have shared thoughts with buds from those years about how different it all could have been had smart phones and social media been actively in play, and we agree that our outcomes would most certainly included more angst, possibly even a meeting with the Po Po. We didn't behave like choir boys but thanks to a wise choice of parental timing by our own folks, capturing those events was only accomplished by our retinas, even in their altered state, well before the advent of the Interwebs.

Circling back to Wynnie, I was a proud Papa this week, showing pics of her off to some of my oldest friends at our annual rekindling of the Sunnidale Mafia. Fully admitting that using a moniker like that may result in some blowback, I'll remain steadfast in the moniker because those 5 gentlemen were integral in shaping my personality growing up on Barrie's Sunnidale Road, attending Central together, sharing the thrills and spills of high school athletics, skiing at Snow Valley, and collectively engaging in the "normal" shenanigans of the late 1970's. 

Left to right, Lance Hamilton, myself, Jeff Ough, Craig Myles, and Greg Brucker are pictured at the right. Mark Fornaserio couldn't make the first meeting, and being official Old Farts, we didn't think to whip out a smart phone and get an updated version this year. We let life to get in the way for decades before Lance poked the bear hard enough for us to push all of the other stuff aside and make the concerted effort to revisit those wonderful moments over a meal and libations. Our stories were shared, our updates explained, our opinions professed, and our laughs bubbled over as we dominated the space in the restaurant for 4 hours, our server being both patient and accommodating ... we tipped her accordingly. 

As I've written many times before, but this past week proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Life is most assuredly Good!

Losing friends sucks!

The old adage that trouble always comes in threes was never more on point than this past week ... well, two of the three were troubling news, the third simply sad. Two great Central friends and one neighbour from my adopted home made the transition to whatever comes next, leaving me with that too familiar emptiness of a loss that cannot be filled. This won't be a lot of words, but I feel compelled to share what each gifted me through their friendship, and how their departure will affect the next weeks to come.

Tod Wright was the custodial lead hand for many of my years on staff at Central, taking over after Don Meriweather (SP?) retired, and although we had already formed a good friendship, his promotion coupled with my outside-the-lines use of Central's facilities meant that we were in pretty regular contact, sharing many conversations. An avid sports enthusiast, Tod was always there for Central's athletes, both as a fan and arranging things to their benefit. He always had a great big grin for me, and was openly warm in sharing some of his passions outside of the job. After Central was closed, we didn't see each other very often, but we stayed in touch via Social Media with messages of support and congratulations arriving in the in-box regularly. Case in point, his was one of the first congratulatory messages I received once the news about my induction to the Barrie Sports Hall of Fame went public. I don't know any details about what happened but if the rest of his life was a positive and warm as our interactions, there will be a large number of people feeling just the way I did when I learned about his passing at such a young age.

RIP Tod ... you were quality people and in my books that counts for a lot!

Regular readers of these posts will already know that Joyce and I relocated to Wasaga Beach, coming up on four years now. We are in a condo, a grouping of three identically constructed buildings in a quiet section of WB's northeast end. Living in a condo community, we established friendships with some of our neighbours, but one of the special ones was with a 95 year old Myra Peddie who was on the same floor at the other end of our building. A feisty and active wee Scottish lass, she always had time for a conversation about almost any subject, and as we became more familiar, she felt comfortable with asking for some help with things that a lady in her 90's might need. This past winter, following a trip out west to visit her daughter, she returned home displaying a little less pep in her step, and inquiries about the change revealed that her health was failing and there was very little that the medical system could do. Being devoutly proud, she decided that she would not burden her family and friends with her bad luck, making the decision to opt for an assisted dignified departure, 100% on her terms. While Joyce and I plus many of our other neighbours are most definitely sad, we admire her strength and conviction. 

RIP Myra ... the pain and burden is finally gone and we love that for you!

Fresh off a weekend event where dozens of fantastic Barrie Central memories were dredged from deep within my Hippocampus, I learned through our group connections that one of my dear colleagues Kelly had lost her health fight, leaving behind literally hundreds of friends, family, and loved ones with a profound sense of confusion, sadness, and loss. I personally feel like I've known Kelly for decades, meeting first when I was hired at Central, transitioning through all of the unbelievableness we shared both in good times and bad, including jointly coping with moving to North following Central's closure. We always had time for a hug, a smile, a story, and a visit, but lost regular connections once we both retired and refocused on family. Still, we met often at retirement parties for our younger colleagues or on the court where I was refereeing her children's games, rekindling the flames of friendship quickly, the mark of a strong relationship. I knew that some health complications had made life more difficult in the past few years, but I am embarrassed to admit that I was not aware of the seriousness, obviously a large part of her passing. 

The last years of her career, she transitioned away from the classroom into guidance where she counselled 1000's of students on potential next steps following secondary, appreciated for her bluntness when it was warranted. When the word begins to circulate through alumni, there will be a dark cloud cast widely as many struggle with her loss.

For me, Kelly will always be a sassy, Uber smart, high energy, focussed Tasmanian Devil who loved working with kids. As a friend, she was selfless to a fault, always ready to take the quarrel whenever required, her sassy sense of humour often leaving the crowd in stitches. Her passing really is a mortality check, a slap in the face, considering that she was only a couple of years younger than me, and I feel deeply that her family has lost such a genuine soul.

RIP Kelly ... Heaven just got a really good one, and those of us left behind will certainly miss you!

Man, growing older is not for wimps!

"We're Central Born, and we're Central bred!"

It's been 10 years this coming June 28th since the SCDSB rammed the final nail into the coffin for Barrie Central, and while that causes me profound pause, a couple of things happened this week to rekindle the flames of my passion for my alma mater, prompting beaucoup de smile and many a warm fuzzy.

This past week ... yep, you missed it despite being warned (CLICK) ... a group of Barrie area rugby stalwarts provided the community with continuing proof that there are those that walk among us with selfless souls and giant sized hearts. If you've never had the opportunity to take in the phenomenon that is OFSAA Boys Rugby, you should still appreciate that to win a medal or award, a team must play 4 forty minute games in 3 days, a grind that often leads to some significant wear and tear on teenage bodies. The teams are seeded #1 through #16, playing an opening round game that determines if they will chase the champion's chalice or compete in the consolation side. 

16 schools representing most of the athletic regions from across Ontario (the 3 northern associations don't have rugby) put on a display of grit, skill, and determination that was awe-inspiring for the hundreds that came to witness the spectacle. At the risk of repeating myself, our athletic association is called GBSSA (Georgian Bay School Sport Association), and our representatives were Champion Eastview Secondary in addition to the host school North Collegiate. 

My BCC partners-in-crime, Ron Andrews and Jay Malandrino, joined me for the championship as we both enjoyed a reunion of rugby minds and the accompanying banter, but also offered our appreciation for the skills that the coaches had gifted their players. I don't mind telling you that while we thought the over all skill set from top to bottom for many of the teams had risen significantly, I'd be lying if we didn't offer a critique or three of the systems that the teams employed, not the least of which was their first-phase attack. Once a coach, always a coach, especially when you've enjoyed the successes that we did (GRIN).

Eastview, seeded #5, bested #12 Kitchener Collegiate in the opening round, but fell to the eventual Bronze medallists #4 seed Medway Secondary (London area) in the quarter finals, ending their Cinderella season. 

North, seeded #11, upset the #6 seed Oakville Trafalgar in their opener, but fell to the eventual Silver medallists Northern Secondary, ending their quest for redemption following their semifinal loss in the GBSSA playoffs.

When all of the dust had settled, Oakville won the consolation championship beating #13 seed Glebe Secondary (Ottawa), Medway beat #2 seed Streetsville Secondary (Mississauga) for the Bronze, and upstart #8 seed Uxbridge Secondary took the difficult pathway through #9 Neil McNeil (Toronto), #1 St Johns (Brantford), and #2 Streetsville before their gold medal victory over #3 seed Northern Secondary (Toronto). I honestly cannot recall a school taking a harder path than through #1, #2, and #3, so KUDOS to Uxbridge!

Part of my role in all of this was to offer counsel, based on having co-convened 2 OFSAA Championships, the first in 2002, and then again in 2015. At the risk of beating a proud chest, Central won gold at both of those tournaments, the last one extra special because both Ron and I had sons playing significant roles in that victory. The other part of my role was to do my best to record it all by freezing the action with my trusty Nikon. If you wish to have a look, CLICK.

This past Saturday night completed the stroll down Memory Lane with a shindig to celebrate the 10 year anniversary of Central's demise, the brainchild of Uber-alum Ben Browne, and the work-product of some almost equally passionate Centralites Patrick Jang, Tim Kraft, Cat Harding and Morgan Wilson. Although I wasn't sure what to expect, I knew that I had to make the trek from Wasaga to help remember the Glory Days (a la Springsteen) of the Red, Black, and White.

Any uncertainties were quickly dismissed as a wide assortment of equally excited alumni greeted everyone with smiles, hugs, and handshakes while the slideshows and music dredged those long forgotten memories of yesteryear. The most senior attendee was from the class of '59, but there were ex-students, ex-staff, and even ex-custodians ... I see you Lolita and Marguerite ... who felt compelled to re-live their experiences with friends made from those influential years. Certainly one of the best attended cadres was my brother Rob's era of the mid to late 80's, all fired up and raring to go, with chums flying in from BC and Florida. Another significant presence were those from the early 90's, and they were certainly the most boisterous, offering a rendition of the Central song and some poetic freestyling. 

Being a Central grad (1977-82) and former staff (1998-2016), I had plenty of familiar faces to reacquaint with and share some stories, but BY FAR the widest smile was generated by former Central Football and Rugby chums Dave Waldock, Brian Britnell, and Ric Cloughley. We were certainly WAY better that night that we were back in the late 70's ... HaHa! 

There were my former teachers like Betty-Anne Taylor, Janet Turner, Bruce Rumble, John Irving, John Kraft, and Don Stephen ... hope I didn't forget anyone ... apologies.

There were former colleagues like Robin and Jay Malandrino, Tamara Tiemersma, Syd Lucas, Joanne McLaurin, Heidi Houlgrave-Plaxton, Rhea Kruase, and Doug Young ... again, apologies for omissions.

There were former students, too many to name, each saving a big smile and a warm hug for their old wrinkled teacher. A HUGE shout out to all who took some time to say hello.

I guess the only reservation was the poor attendance of my era since I don't recall anyone from my graduating class. I see some of those fine people every now and again, but there are some I haven't shared a smile with for decades.

In the end, the two events took some of the ache of 2016 away.

"And when we die, we'll be Central dead!"

"It's the most wonderful time"

Even though I am now 6.5 years passed teaching my final class, as a full time gig that is, there are still things that get me twitterpatted like a sweaty-palmed teen's anticipation of a first kiss, and that time of year has officially arrived! I had the means and opportunity, sur la bicyclette, to take in the Sr Boys' Rugby semifinals, one hosted by Eastview, the other by North, and made it a special day all the way around by cycling to a morning supply gig in Elmvale, then down the Rail Trail to northeast Barrie to take in the action, before the gorgeous ride home to the Beach.

I all hubris, I can't resist the opportunity to compare what today's schools are plying on the pitch to what Ron and I offered in what seems a lifetime ago at Central and North, but I have to say in all honesty that there's some great coaching and guidance being gifted to today's rugby athletes. Can I offer those coaches some constructive criticism, should it be sought? Sure, but they're doing quite fine without my input, and with OFSAA being hosted in Barrie this year, GBSSA will be well represented. Maybe even a potential podium finish? The greater Barrie rugby community is doing some fantastic things for today's youth and the brand of play being displayed is both exciting and entertaining, even provincially and nationally recognized for the quality of player being fielded.

Lest it slipped by your notice, I did just inform you that the "AAA" Boys' Rugby OFSAA Championships are being hosted at our local world-class facility out in Midhurst, and the engine behind the big event is Barrie North's Mike Alcombrack, with plenty of eager help from some equally super-powered rugby fanatics. If you've been around high school sports in GBSSA, you'll already be aware of how much a "mover + shaker" Alky is, selflessly gifting his time, energy, and knowledge to the Barrie Rugby Club, Georgian College's mens program, and Barrie North, his alma mater. 

In a recent conversation with Alky, I reminded him that nobody gives more to their school's athletes than he ... matched perhaps, but never beaten. That heart to heart came on the heels of his side's narrow loss to Nantyr Shores in semifinal action, and he was beating himself up over what he perceived to be his failings. Of course I disagreed, but that's the depth of his caring, shouldering the blame for his kids.

With the Nantyr win, they earned the right to face the undefeated Juggernaut Eastview in the GBSSA finals, the winner earning the GBSSA slot at the OFSAA Championship. The OFSAA action will play out Monday June 1 to Wednesday June 3 if you're so inclined to have a peek. Like the rugby championships previously held at the Midhurst complex in 2002 and 2015 ... both OFSAA Gold for Central Rugby, in all arrogance ... there's A LOT to appreciate about what is playing out on pitches in this area, and the organizers would love to have your support.

I repeated the bike trip from Wasaga to take in the GBSSA Championship of Eastview hosting Nantyr, and came away with profound respect for both squads, but for significantly different reasons. While Eastview does many things well, they enjoy the benefit of a super star calibre player in Reece Davies (or is it Reese, not sure?), a multi-skilled, dynamic athlete with a goodly amount of rugby sense. Davies was the big difference in the game, IMHO, I think totalling 19 points himself on the strength of 3 tries (5 pts) and 2 conversions (2 pts). In the end, despite spirited Nantyr defence, Eastview was crowned GBSSA champions in a 31-0 win. Shout out to Coaches Andrew Davies and Aria Keshoofy on the Big Dub!

Stay tuned for more information about the OFSAA Championships June 1-3, and how Eastview and hosts North fare in the tournament.

Hopelessly romantic!

This past week shaped up to play out with normal flair with some supply work, some refereeing, some Wynnie snuggles, and some two-wheeled explorations, but as the second hand ticked it's way around the clock face, something pretty cool occurred. 

Carrier Pigeons from Greece ... our family has officially expanded ... well, sort of officially.

For background, our son Keaton fell head over heels for a young Jessica Lyver, an amazing young lady from Erin. Following a romance blossoming that eventually saw them do a relationship in a less traditional manner, complete with a joint home purchase in "old" Guelph, our lil' KP eventually decided she was The One! Being the helpless romantic that he has become, he popped the BIG question to the apple of his eye two years ago on a trip to Italy, Mediterranean in the backdrop, atop an epic Cinque Terre hike. Much to his relief, she tearily responded with a YES, and the planning began in earnest. What started out as a potentially private affair ... think 2026 style elopement ... has morphed into something still small but sprinkled with a more traditional flavouring. 

Back to Greece, KP + Jess booked quite the excursion to the gem of the Aegean, complete with island hops and ruins, but the highlight was the private sharing of vows they booked for the anniversary of their engagement, on the shores of the Aegean. In their eyes, it was the sacred promise to each other, "To have and to hold, till death do us part", shunning the fact that Canada would still require them to do the paperwork once back on home soil. That notion germinated into a special day this coming fall, complete with a homegrown ruin of sorts, by making it legal at Guelph's own Goldie Mill, a historic gem in the city's downtown, site of an old limestone mill built by the Goldie family in the 1800's, but sold in 1918 to the Grand River Conservation Authority, who now book it out. These days, it is the site of a host of special occasions, and their ceremony certainly qualifies. During it's time, Goldie Mill included a foundry, cooperage, distillery, piggery and tannery so the history, while definitely Canadian, is front and center, sort of like Greece.

As far as our family sees it, the Lyver's have officially hitched their cart to the Porter clan ... or we to them, if they'd prefer to see it that way ... with only the ink on the paper left to dry. I don't mind admitting that we had some misty eyes when we received the photos of the moment via i-message, and considering that Greece is 7 hours ahead, it would have been a post-celebratory late night, a favour we truly appreciated. It's pretty easy to see the joy and love in their eyes!

October in downtown Guelph, nature's paint pallet in full bloom, will be a very special day, and will almost complete our little family's development after Maddi + Chris employing similar timing in 2023. Now, all that remains is another grand child ... no pressure you two, just dreams of two wrinkled old beach bums.

Life is assuredly quite good these days.

Barrie the beautiful

My tap root is descending into the sands of Wasaga Beach, but I'll always have a piece of my heart that belongs to Barrie, my childhood home and the site of so many awesome memories, so when neat stuff happens that is flavoured with some Barrie spice, I take notice. A few pretty neat things happened recently that prompted this little piece.

Barrie is Home to the World's Strongest Man ... again!

Michell Hooper is affectionately nick named "The Moose" and he is one seriously strong dude! If you desire a more thorough background, CLICK here for the piece I wrote when Mitch won his 1st WSM. 

That's right Barrie, the World's Strongest Man lives in little ol' Barrie!

The 2026 WSM championships (CLICK for more info) were held in April and hosted in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA. Mitch totalled 56 points over 10 events, narrowly beating South Africa's Rayno Nel's 52 points. As with his first title, Mitch's secret is his otherworldly consistency across a wide assortment of lifts, meaning that while the max points for winning an event are nice to achieve, placing second or third across so many events ensures a spot atop the leaderboard. The graphic at the left is a screen shot from his Wikipedia page and is head-shakingly incredible! Qualifying for the final day by carrying boulders, pulling trucks, and squatting ridiculous weights, Mitch either placed 2nd, or shared 2nd, in each of the 5 final's events to take the crown.

What seems like a eon ago, I attended Queen's University in Kingston for my undergrad degree in PHE, now commonly referred to as Kinesiology, where I befriended a friendly giant named Todd Hooper. I've shared in past pieces that although I played for the Football version of the Gaels (Golden Gaels back then), my love was, and continues to be, basketball. Todd was not just a classmate, he was an integral part of the Gaels hardcourt during our time in Kingston, and that "bridge" led to a quality friendship. 

Fast forward a bunch of years ... 40th reunion this coming fall ... and our kids are now adults. Todd's only boy was an Uber talented, multi-sport athlete named Mitchell, and following a stellar high school career at Eastview SS, he chased first a football dream, the training for which eventually caused a lane change into powerlifting, before settling on the niche sport of Strong Man. The World's Strongest Man competitions, and their related competitions like the Arnold's, the Shaw's, and Rogue's, I term as niche only because there's a finite number of humans on this planet that possess the skeleton, discipline, and desire to compete in a wide variety of mind boggling events where moving ginormous weights in any prescribed direction is the focus.

In the event that you didn't read my first piece about Mitch, the quick-to-assume of you might shrug and write off WSM competitors as big on brawn, but not so much on brain. That would be a huge mistake! Speaking solely about Mitch, he has has a degree in human kinetics from the University of Guelph and a masters in clinical exercise physiology from the University of Sydney, but his passion is his very successful kinesiology clinic in Barrie. Truth be told, he only got into Strong Man because he wanted to understand what his clients were going through.

You read that right, good looking (like his dad), Uber smart, Uber athletic, and an all around good guy, he's a chip off the ol' brick and I'm sure Todd couldn't possibly be any more proud.

Barrie Central, alive still in the hearts of some former staff
Despite the large vacant lot at the corner of Dunlop and Bradford streets, the lone hint that anything cool existed is the obelisk-like chimney, the only remaining physical proof that Barrie Central once existed. The school, however, remains on the lips and in the minds of both alumni and former staff, memories that prompt wide smiles, hilarious stories, and fond feelings of friendship. 

Case in point, a passionate group of Central graduates has organized a reunion-like Celebration of Life to honour their alma mater's closing 10 years ago this coming June. If you're reading this, and you've a connection to ol' BCC, you can find more information about the celebration HERE.

This section is not about that, as amazing as it seems, but rather a tip o' the hat to a stalwart group of former Central teachers who meet twice a month to reminisce, remember, and re-connect over a pint ... or a sort of pint since the beverage of choice these days is a non-alcoholic version of days gone by. Hey, it's still beer, just without the annoying after effects. 

I was beckoned to join the group a few years ago when I pressed the magic button in January of 2020, and since that time, I've joined my former teachers turned colleagues turned friends on a number of occasions at some of Barrie's signature establishments. McReilly's was a longtime choice, both for it's wide assortment of offerings and the nuance of the downtown vibes, but with time catching up to many of the group, a change was made to a location that offered parking close by, a choice that even the spring chickens like me appreciate. The waterfront location of PIE is the new home for the BCC Old Farts Club.

Along the wall moving left to right, you'll find yours truly, John Irving, Ed Leach, and Rick Kalte. In the seats you'll find Jay Malandrino, John Kraft, Tom Krawczyk, Bill Huddleston, and at the very back, Don Stephen. Others who have contributed to the banter would include Bruce Rumble, Don Lillow (RIP), Bob Irwin (RIP), Doug Eves, Ron Andrews, and Brian Honey. Even Brad Chestnut and Rob McClung show up every now and then to the group's great delight.

The observant of you will immediately question the infamous JayMal ... he's not retired, you might say, so why is he sitting there smiling like a Cheshire Cat? In the spirit of inclusivity, the group welcomes any and all kindred spirits who would share their BCC experiences. Besides, JayMal's the best, and he keeps the average age stats in check! HaHa! With Central being nothing more than a group of outstanding memories, any former staff member is technically retired from there, and our group would welcome all with a warm hug and a big smile!

If you fit that bill, feel free to reach out to me or any of the group to inquire when the next meeting will take place. Even though I don't make every meeting, considering that I now live in Wasaga Beach, I treasure every one I do attend because these guys brighten my day each and every time!

Keep doing what you're doing Barrie! 

Still thinking about stuff

I've really enjoyed putting on the Thinking Cap for a couple of previous pieces (Click or Click) so I thought maybe one more time. I honestly cannot recall where I got these questions from, or what inspired them, but a quick Google effort resulted in dozens of potential choices so it literally could have been anywhere. 

I find that there is something deeply satisfying and cathartic answering these queries with heartfelt honesty, even if it creates a considerably vulnerable position by baring personal items for the Keyboard Warriors to react, however they may choose. I have decided that I now know myself pretty well after all these years, and more importantly, I am very comfortable with who I have become, so being vulnerable is not nearly as threatening as it once was. 

I'd love to have a conversation with you about what your answers might be to any of these.

What have you given up on?
We all have dreams.
Dreams are different from aspirations, at least they are to me.
Building on that, dreams and aspirations are different from goals.

To me, dreams are the stuff of "what if" or "imagine if", the thoughts that consume us when we sit quietly, watching the snowflakes swirl or raindrops drip or branches sway, as we entertain our grey matter with ideas that we anticipate might change the Life that we are surrounded by. They're the Lotto Max influence. They're fun to discuss with your special someone while commuting somewhere or basking in the glow of a fire.

Aspirations and goals are different. To me, aspirations are the long-term, often intangible vision or "the why", while a goal is the concrete, specific, measurable milestone, or "the what", needed to reach the aspiration. Goals are the actionable targets that serve the broader aspiration.

While we all have some of these, though not all of us have all three, and I would propose that it hinges on our station in Life since the circumstances of the day to day will influence our "what if", "why do", or "how can" ruminations. We are cautioned so often by influencers or "coaches" about being present or in the moment lest we dwell on issues out of our control, but if you're anything akin to me, you likely have decisions/actions that you harbour regrets about. The minuscule ones are easily dismissed, the fodder of a quiet moment of introspection, but should you have one that clings and causes revisitation, that energy can spark so much negative inner dialogue, warping the perceptions of the here and now with it's lens. 

That's where the giving up happens, the dream or aspiration tumbling like the proverbial house of cards under the weight of self-imposed lashes of the chalice as punishment for some deed left incomplete, the most extreme of which can cause alterations to our sense of self-worth or self-confidence. Our locus becomes external, fluctuating with the response/input of others, like a sail in the breeze. 

I am blessed to have enjoyed the influence of two amazing parents whose tutelage included allowing me to make mistakes, gifting the opportunity to learn how to stave off the fickle roller coaster of other's opinion by sustaining a solid foundation of belief in me, and what I'm about. It has served me well throughout my years, not only as an athlete and coach, but also as a teacher and parent, a "super power" I am incredibly grateful was harnessed early on. I have boat loads of minuscule regrets, so many that I've long forgotten their nature or circumstances, but if I'm honest, I have very few of a substantive nature, and certainly none that have caused the figurative rainclouds of pessimism. 

I guess that's a really long way to say that I haven't given up on very many things.

What do you do when other people don't like you?

It's an interesting question, if I'm honest, because the answer will have a great deal to do with your mindset. Caring about the opinion of others boils down to
(a) how much their approval means to you,
(b) how much you like yourself, or like the way you handled the thing that led to their disapproval, and
(c) how content you'd be going forward, considering their disapproval. 

The answer will also vary widely from person to person.

At this point in my ripening, if asked this, I would respond with a non-committal, unemotional, shoulder-shrugging, "Not much." Oh, there was a time where approval of others for an assortment of issues or decisions was paramount to my enjoyment of the day, but I will confess that these days, the number of people in the group that I would lend heed to has diminished to a little more than a handful.

Besides, as my brother's T-shirt states Aren't I a f#$king ray of sunshine and what's not to like? HaHa!

Seriously, it boils down to intrinsic or extrinsic valuation ... if you're happy with who you have become, you see the world and it's happenings through the lens of "I like me" and things that don't jive with what you hold dear are of little importance. On the flip side, if your lens is "I hope they like me", things that don't jive with what you hold dear can significantly impact your happiness. 

So my answer to the question hinges on being true to myself and my self-concept.

To be clear,

I like me ...

I like how I've lived and am living ...

I have a small group of people whom I hold dear ...

I have boat loads of people I call friends ...

If someone doesn't like me, Meh, but given some time, my little ray of sunshine will eventually brighten their day, and things could potentially change.

Thanks for reading!

2026 All Stars

With the completion of the 2026 version of the Simcoe County Boys' Basketball All Star game on April 7th, the curtain closes on another successful and entertaining high school basketball season that included three OFSAA medals for GBSSA ... Maple Ridge girls repeated as "AAA" Champions, Nouvelle Alliance girls brought home the "A" Sliver, and Nottawasaga Pines boys brought home the "AA" Silver! As former long time coach, organizer, and now a referee, I had a front row seat to the action, and would like to publicly "shout out" to the men and women coaches who selflessly sacrifice time away from their loved ones that the "Hoopers" of GBSSA have a platform to showcase their product.

It was a very exciting season!

Working backwards in 2025-26, the most recent expose of talent took place thanks to the Varsity Program of Georgian College, hosts of the 2026 Boys' All Star game, who generously donated the court time, staff, and jerseys for the event. Schools from around Simcoe County were represented, sometimes by multiple athletes, and the quality of the game was top-notch, much to the delight of the fans and supporters! If you missed it, you might be doubtful about the outstanding level of local talent, but I'm standing on my soapbox proclaiming their "Oh My!" level.

How would you know Steve, you might ask? I had the best seat in the house when I was honoured to have been assigned to officiate the game along with fellow Wasaga Beach'er Craymer Forth. I'm not the only one though, and Grizzlies head coach Chad Bewley confessed how excited he was by the 2026 class, many of this year's participants on his radar for recruiting.

Congratulations to Nottawasaga Pines SS Coach Mario Ivakovic-Jovie, also a BDABO member, for bringing an OFSAA Silver medal back to Simcoe County at the "AA" championships in Renfrew. After being seeded #11, NPSS suffered a jittery opening round loss to #9 seeded CW Jefferys (North York) 52-76, but rebounded to outpace their opponents to earn a berth into the final by besting #6 seed Smiths Falls 56-49, #3 seed Lo-Ellen (Sudbury) 73-67, and #2 seed St Joan of Arc (Toronto) 57-49. In the championship against #4 seed WC Kennedy (Windsor), tired legs and spent emotions resulted in short-armed shots that clanged off the rim, eventually leading to a 46-67 loss and a Silver medal. To the best of my knowledge, this is the first OFSAA medal for NPSS, and the team should be extremely proud of how they represented themselves, their school, and GBSSA.

Although the girls' basketball season seems so long ago, the smiles on the faces of two GBSSA teams has not faded. Powerhouse Maple Ridge cemented their claim as one of Ontario's premiere programs by successfully defending their OFSAA championship, a rare double in high school sports. The pressure was different for the 2025 version of the Ravens after being seeded #1 overall, following their 2024 seeding of #7 where they surprised some with their run all the way to the gold, but they tested their meddle besting #11 St Max Kolbe (Aurora) 77-23, #7 Notre Dame (Welland) 71-22, #8 Frontenac (Kingston) 49-32, and #5 AB Lucas (London) 45-30 on the way to the championship victory against host #2 St Patrick's (Sarnia) 49-37. Coaches Tutty and Laronde and building a program worthy of praise with many of their players signing with CIS schools for next season.

After being seeded #3 overall, I think it's fair to say that many in Barrie's basketball community were curious how the Tornades would fair, but victories over #14 Ursula Franklin Academy (Toronto) 50-18, #8 Seed ESC Horizon (Val Caron) 67-47, #6 seed Nicholson (Belleville) 63-50, and #2 seed Ange-Gabriel (Brockville) 38-33 earned NA a place in the final against Woodland Christian School (Bresleau). Unfortunately, they ran out of gas, Woodland winning 73-29. Shout out to long time NA coach Jérôme Garceau for continuing the winning ways for the Tornades!

With all admitted bias, if you're not out there on the sidelines at Simcoe County's high school games, you're missing out on some pretty impressive action. Along with the coaches named in this article, a massive pat on the back to the teachers/EAs who are making school more enticing and enjoyable for the county's young athletes! I know it's a labour of love, and that you do it for all the right reasons, but seriously, thank you for all you do!

I'll make sure to submit all of your names to your respective Boards for a well earned raise!

Has it really been 10 years?

With the turn of the page into April, it has dawned on me that the end of the traditional school year looms, and noting the digits 2026 at the top of the calendar, I was startled by the realization that it's been 10 years since the SCDSB officially shuttered good ol' Barrie Central, closing the books on a storied institution complete with it's traditions, legends, myths, and curiosities. 

A lot has changed since June 2016 ...
Incredible stuff like retirement, marriages, a grand baby, and Hall of Fame enshrinement.
Cool stuff like new homes, cars, hobbies, and lifestyles.
Disconcerting happenstance like political upheaval, economic downturns, and climate degradation. 

When you're 5 years old, a decade seems like a lifetime.
When you're 10 years old, a decade seems like a huge number.
When you're 15 years old, a decade seems like a long time to wait.
When you're 20 years old, a decade seems like a wait-able time.
When you're 30 years old, a decade seems like a couple of years.
When you're 40 years old, a decade seems like last week.
When you're 50 years old, a decade seems like a minute ago.
When you're 60 years old, a decade sometimes seems like a struggle to remember.

Some things recently have thrust the good ol' days into the front of my consciousness, memory fragments swirling like the suds going down the kitchen sink, the powerful stuff crystal clear but the minor details wispy like clouds on a bright blue backdrop. I don't mind ruffling feathers when I reiterate that the whole process behind the destruction of all things Central was a clusterfuck of epic proportions ... excuse my crassness ... and even with the passage of 10 years, I still get agitated when I itemize the damage that ensued. 

Again, how could a group of supposed caring individuals actively choose to wipe out 147 years of achievement and success without continuing, or at least acknowledging, it's existence? The decision smacks of contempt and resentment, eradication at the core.

The proverbial silver lining, however, is that despite my outrage, there's more than enough awesomeness to offset the gloom, and I break into a wide grin when I sift and sort the recollections of ...
Coaching fantastic athletes, championships that were won/lost, accolades received ...
Teaching curious students, facilitating academic enlightenment, life goals revealed, friendship growth ...
Performing in Christmas assemblies by dancing ballet, singing a golden oldie, dressing in drag ...
Creating Central's yearbooks, farcical videos, silly songs, Moustache May photos ... 
Commiserating about lifelong relationships, colleagues marriages/children, colleagues/students lost.

They only saved the chimney, and it's still the only thing there!

I've written before about what I personally viewed to be the source of the magic contained within the walls of Central, but at the risk of repetition, I would propose that the personalities of those who worked there (admin, teachers, and staff), with the resulting synergy of talents, functioned like so much fertilizer propagating a blossoming of student brilliance, and the resultant splendor, a cacophony of athletic and academic accomplishments. Central wasn't just recognized municipally, it's reputation for excellence extended provincially, nationally, even internationally, the distinction becoming a habit that was passed from cadre to cadre for decades.

I've included enough stories in the 380 posts in this Blog that regurgitation is not necessary, but anyone who either attended, taught, worked, or spent time there can attest to something being slightly different ... not better, not greater, simply different, but in a really cool way.

I'm not alone in this.

A passionate group of alumni have rallied around reconnecting and reunion this coming June, with plans for a night of remembering to be held at the Lins Gate Banquet Hall in Barrie's east end. CLICK here for the Google Form registration. There's a dining option if that's desired; there's a nibbles option if something less formal is desired; it's intended to give like-minded Centralites a chance to catch-up, rekindle, reconnect, and reminisce.

Time inevitably marches on, and I've moved on to exciting things, not the least of which is my little Wynnie, but there'll always be a permanent portion of my soul reserved for my beloved BCC, with it's RED, BLACK, and WHITE colouring likely in the legendary quarter-board of Central Rugby. 

Hopefully I'll still be writing in 10 more years and we can share a stroll down Memory Lane again.

RIP Rory Quinn

Another soul has left this earth, and I'm feeling pretty melancholy about it because it's another former student and player from my Barrie Central days. I guess when we educators reach a certain age, it's inevitable that the fickle finger of fate will steal some souls earlier than ever should have been, leaving behind a sense of loss and regret.

RIP Rory Quinn 1989-2026

When viewed through my teacher lens, Rory was a peppery sort in high school because even as a teenager, he wasn't afraid to march to the beat of his own drum, never shy to share an opinion, or to choose the path less trodden. I can understand that some of his teachers might have a slightly different view, but I don't want to make it sound that I have negative memories of our shared time. Quite the opposite, really, because I appreciated his sense of humour, his self-belief, and his toughness, things that made him a decent rugby player. I first met Rory as a student, then later as a player when he joined our Sr Boys Rugby team, and although the relationship that developed wouldn't be labelled as close, on the rare occasions we did bump into each other, we made time for a catch-up, a smile, and a trip down Memory Lane. 

I really liked Rory.

Although he wasn't a starter, everyone knew when Rory entered the game, announcing his presence with tenacity and grit, usually good for a handful of solid thumping tackles. He was a proud member of our OFSAA winning side in 2007 played in Brantford. He had a smile larger than the Cheshire Cat with that medal around his neck. 

We stayed in touch, like so many former students/players, through social media like FB and Instagram, and I don't mind telling you that I was impressed with what seemed to me to be an obvious outpourng of love and pride for his boys. He struck me as a passionate sort, fought bravely, loved deeply, fiercely proud of his Irish heritage. 

With his passing, I've felt a longing to know what he amounted to since graduating from Central, and I came away with the feeling that family & friends were intensely important to him, not the least of which was Amber, his life partner. Anyone wired that way will be sorely missed by those that loved him, and for that, my heart goes out to them. There'll be a big hole in their lives.

I don't know if he'll ever know it, but I am sad that Rory's left us, and I hope that we'll all do our best to keep him with us in our thoughts. 

For those interested, Amber has posted on FB that there will be a Celebration of Life on Saturday, April 18th, 2026 at 1:00 pm to be held at the Lions Gate Banquet Hall on Blake Street in Barrie's east end.

That's the line to cross?

Well, the proverbial "Cat's outta the bag" so to say, and I'm about to post an opinion of someone I read on social media about the state of things below the 45th parallel. I guess now that I've gone down the path of negativity toward the present POTUS, I can't travel to the USA for fear of how the ICE and Border Officials will react ... Well, TBH, I had zero plans for doing so anyway.

Steve McEachern, according to his own web site profile, "I am CEO of WebMarket Consultants Incorporated, Marketing.Legal™, and tech-stack architect of the Success.Legal™ ecosystem. I oversee business logic, application development, digital asset/equity valuation, and other aspects within the Canadian legal profession ecosystem. Information provided here is solely for technology demonstration and testing purposes. I am not a lawyer, nor licensed in any way by any Law Society or Bar Association. I am unable to provide legal advice to the public." 

I provide that as a potential lens for what I will provide down below.

Having read some of McEachern's musings on social media, I have to say that I am impressed by how he writes, what he writes about, and how he lays out his argument. A friend of mine was born, raised, and educated in Canada, but his career path led he and his wife to the deep south where they have lived for 30+ years (it actually might be closer to 40+). We don't have many discussions about US politics, but we've shared boat loads of minutes discussing things we struggle to understand, and the following I offer as a HMMM moment.

If you know Steve McEachern, and are already aware of his views, I don't think you'll gain a whole lot of new insight, but if you've never heard of him, give this a read.

🇨🇦🇺🇸 I’m Canadian. That means I don’t get a vote in American elections. But don’t get it twisted — I’ve still got skin in this bloody game. When the United States lights the world on fire, the smoke drifts north, the oil markets spike, our soldiers end up in your wars, and the global economy rattles like an out of control eighteen-wheeler at the intersection of the 401 and DVP.

So yeah. Some of us outside your borders have been watching this circus for years.

And here’s the part that blows the mind:

It wasn’t the 34 felony convictions.

It wasn’t being found liable for sexual assault.

It wasn’t the six bankruptcies.

It wasn’t the porn star scandal while his wife had a newborn.

It wasn’t the classified documents piled up in a Mar-a-Lago bathroom.

It wasn’t January 6th.

It wasn’t the Epstein file questions.

It wasn’t gutting healthcare for millions.

It wasn’t getting his tariffs swatted down by his own Supreme Court.

No.

None of that did it.

You know what finally cracked the skulls of the flag-waving, pickup truck-driving, “don’t tread on me” freedumbers?

The fucking gas price.

That’s the line.

That’s where the moral compass suddenly spun back to life. Not democracy. Not decency. Not the rule of law. Not dead soldiers. Not destabilizing half the Middle East.

Nope.

The number on the sign at the gas station.

That’s what finally did it.

Nick Fuentes — an actual white nationalist — is now telling his followers to vote Democrat.

Let that sink through your skull for a second.

The guy who had dinner with Trump at Mar-a-Lago is now saying vote blue because the GOP “broke every single promise.” Epstein cover-ups. No mass deportations. And now a regime-change war in the Middle East that supposedly was never going to happen.

Alex Jones nearly cried on air.

“I needed Trump as my lifeboat,” he said. “And I’m watching it sink.”

The same guy who told parents of murdered six-year-olds their kids were crisis actors is now having a televised emotional collapse because his strongman hero turned out to be full of shit.

Tragic.

My heart absolutely fucking bleeds.

Joe Rogan — the guy who practically delivered the bro vote in 2024 — just told eleven million listeners the Iran war is “insane” and people feel “betrayed.”

Betrayed.

Man, Rogan had Trump on his podcast, endorsed him the night before the election, went to the inauguration like a kid at Disneyland… and now he’s sitting there scratching his head going, “This doesn’t make any sense.”

No shit, Joe.

Millions of us — including those of us outside your borders whose economies get dragged along with yours — have been screaming that into the void for ten goddamn years.

Tucker Carlson now says the strikes are “disgusting and evil.”

Megyn Kelly says she has “serious doubts.”

Matt Walsh is suddenly calling out conservative influencers for being anti-war until about five minutes ago.

Andrew Tate — the self-help prophet of the permanently online — is asking why bombing Iran benefits anyone in America.

And here’s the bit that really makes you want to throw a chair through a window.

Every single one of these people was warned.

They were told about the grift.

They were told about the lies.

They were told about the incompetence.

They were told that a guy who managed to bankrupt casinos might not be the wizard of economic management.

They were told “America First” was a bumper sticker, not a policy.

They were told tariffs would backfire.

They were told grocery prices would climb.

They were told.

And what did they say?

They said we were hysterical.

They said we were snowflakes.

They said we had Trump Derangement Syndrome.

They said we just couldn’t handle winning.

Well congratulations, champions.

Gas is up sixty cents in a month making rightwingers cry.

Oil just blasted past $120USD a barrel.

The Strait of Hormuz is closed.

Seven American soldiers are dead in a war that didn’t have to happen.

Manufacturing jobs are evaporating.

Groceries are climbing again making rightwingers cry.

The Trumpian approval rating is in the toilet.

Apparently that is what winning looks like.

The “f&$k around” phase of Trumpian MAGAts lasted about eight years.

The “find out” phase just arrived possibly like a bloody extinction-level asteroid.

And the saddest part?

It’s not that people are finally noticing.

It’s why.

It wasn’t morality.

It wasn’t empathy.

It wasn’t democracy.

It wasn’t the constitution.

It wasn’t dead civilians halfway across the planet.

It was the extra twenty bucks it costs to fill the F-150 of a redneck named Cletus who eats cornbread and baked squirrel then burps the alphabet, while calling out his own sister’s name when masturbating to the demolition of his hometown’s water tower.

That’s the entire MAGA movement distilled to its purest essence.

They didn’t give a shit about democracy.

They didn’t give a shit about norms.

They didn’t give a shit about anyone who wasn’t them.

But the moment the petrol pump hits their wallet, suddenly everyone’s a political philosopher. From up here in Canada — and frankly from a lot of places around the world that get dragged into the consequences of American decisions — we’ve been watching this slow-motion disaster for years.

Welcome to the find out stage, boys.

Some of us have been waiting for you.