Remembering Scott Delgadillo: A Friend, A Hero, An Inspiration

Remembering Scotty – November 12, 2011

Thank you, Steve, Carmen, and friends. I always like to say that I’m blessed to be at an event but tonight it’s especially true. I am blessed. I am honored. I am touched.

It was ten years ago that we lost Scotty Delgadillo. Ten years goes by in the blink of an eye, doesn’t it? It’s been ten short, or long, years. But his impact will last a lifetime.

Tonight I'd like to tell you my story of knowing Scott.

Let me tell you how I met Scott and his family. In the late summer of 2000, I was not too far removed from my years at the University of Notre Dame, and I was working at the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce.  My phone rings and it’s the San Diego Make-A-Wish Foundation. They tell me that they grant wishes to kids battling illnesses and a young man named Scott Delgadillo had a special wish: to visit Notre Dame.

I had no clue how to put this together but I had a good friend that worked on Notre Dame’s campus, Jen Laiber, so I called her. Turns out Jen actually handled visits like those so she said, Sure, we can take care of him. I breathed a sigh of relief because, again, I had NO CLUE how to help grant this type of wish, or why out of alllll the alumni in San Diego, they called me. But God knew.

So I called back Make-A-Wish and they were ecstatic. And in mid-September 2000, with Jen Laiber’s help, they put Scotty on a plane to South Bend, Indiana.

Now, the weekend of his trip, Notre Dame’s football team, the Fighting Irish, were hosting the Purdue Boilermakers. The morning of the game, Scott’s mom, Carmen calls me, and says, “Alex, you’ll never believe this. We got here yesterday and toured the campus, and met the football team, and the head coach, Bob Davie, was so impressed by Scott, he asked him to speak.”

“To the team?” I asked.

“No,” said Carmen, “to the STUDENT BODY at the Pep Rally.”

I was stunned. There are 15,000 people at these rallies!  And Scotty brought down the house.

But Carmen had one more story. Apparently there was an Irish player from San Diego who met Scotty and promised him that, in his honor, he’d return an interception for a touchdown. That player was Shane Walton.

Midway through the game he broke on a pass, picked it off, and TOOK IT TO THE HOUSE. Notre Stadium went bananas!  I went bananas! Interception for a touchdown. The quarterback who threw it: Drew Brees.

I didn’t know Scott had such pull to where he could be an instant Notre Dame football legend like that. But God knew.

A few weeks later I finally had the opportunity to meet him. Unfortunately, not long after he returned to San Diego, he got sicker and had to return to Children’s Hospital. So I invited my buddy Adriana Holguin, who was also a Notre Dame graduate, to go with me.

On a crisp, fresh fall night, much like tonight, we walked into that hospital room and were so amazed. The Delgadillos – Carmen and Henry and Eric – were so welcoming. Scotty was too but that’s not what stood out to me. What stood out, first of all, was on his walls were letters and posters from Notre Dame students and alumni who had heard him speak at the September pep rally. Here he had given a completely unrehearsed speech and touched, LITERALLY, thousands of lives.

Second, there were pictures from girls everywhere! Lil’ Scotty was a pimp!

But what was interesting were the things he really DID NOT want to talk about. He didn’t wanna talk about his cancer or leukemia. He didn’t wanna talk about my prosthetics or that I obviously had some challenges. He wanted to talk football. He wanted to crack jokes. And because he was a pimp, he wanted to talk about girls.

That night was unforgettable and I quickly learned that THAT’S what Scotty was about. Did he want to recover from his illnesses? Sure. But he was more focused on visiting the rooms around him and making others happy. Lifting THEIR spirits. And telling people to always, always appreciate life.

A few months later, as you know, we lost Scotty.  <Long pause.>     It hurt. It still hurts.

But I’ve thought a lot about him in the ensuing years. And in 2008 when "Swinging for the Fences" was published, I dedicated a chapter to him because something he said stuck with me: Leave A Place Better Than How You Found It.

You see, Scotty knew there was a chance he may leave us early. But he didn’t whine and he didn’t pout. He was determined to raise awareness and get others to do good in this world. His friends continued that mission. His parents continued that mission with the Friends of Scott Foundation. DREW BREES even helps out now – amazing.

So I say to you tonight. As we remember Scotty, don’t be afraid to cry and definitely don’t be afraid to laugh. It is a night of remembrance. But I think about this every day as my employer, the San Diego Padres, strives to makes our city a better place.

Look for causes in which you can get involved! Look for lives you can touch. Look for how you can leave your community and school and church and relationships, better…than how you found it. 

Scott Delgadillo told the Notre Dame pep rally he’d return to campus one day to make an impact on it. I don’t think he knew he was making an impact right there and then!

But God knew.

And as sure as Scotty is watching us tonight…make him proud by making this world a better place. That is what Scotty wants.

God bless you; thank you.

Rotary Conference Speech: The Ethics of Doing More When the World Expects Less

Rotary District Conference Speech – November 4, 2011

Thank you, it is such a blessing to be here today.

I heard that the theme of this conference is ethics.

You know, when we talk about ethics, it has many definitions. Ethics involves morals, and values, and issues of right and wrong. But it can mean so much more.  The dictionary defines ethics as a

Noun:

1.    Moral principles that govern a person's or group's behavior. The moral correctness of specified conduct.

Ethics can also transcend how we conduct our lives. Not just, is it wrong to steal or cheat? We knooow THAT answer. In fact, as humans, we know what ARE the right things to do.  We simply choose not to.  We take an easier path.

So in other words, is it ok to do less if the world accepts less?

For those of you whom I haven’t met yet, my life story is a different one but still filled with ethical choices and moments. I was born in Colombia, South America and the medicine Thylidamide caused me to be born with birth defects - specifically missing my arms and right leg.

When I was two, the Shriners Hospitals flew me from my hometown of Medellín, to California, to receive my first pair of prosthetics. When I was four, my mother knew that, because these trips were expensive, and because I had family living in the United States, it would be better for me to move here permanently. You see, in Colombia at that time, if you were disabled you could not go to school, or hold a job, or have a life. It was a dead-end existence.

But this meant my mother had to make a huge sacrifice. She and my father had very little resources and had never lived anywhere but Colombia. They knew they couldn’t move.

So she had a decision to make: keep her youngest child – I was the youngest of three kids – at home with her? Or allow me to move to the U.S.? That meant she didn’t know when, if ever, she’d see me again. Ever.

How many of you are parents? Raise your hand. How many could give up seeing their child grow up?  My parents did. In order for me to have a better life and to follow moral correctness not only for them, but for me.

Since I was four years old I’ve grown up here in San Diego. My mother has tracked my progress, from childhood, to undergrad at the University of Notre Dame, to graduate school at the University of San Francisco. I have visited Colombia twice, and my parents have taken great pride in a career that has included media relations, being an author and speaker, and working for the San Diego Padres.

Which brings up another question of ethics.

There were many, many times when things weren’t easy. Being a triple amputee and prosthetics wearer is not easy. Quite frankly, it would have been easier for me to just give up and not try so hard at life.

<TELL STORY OF GETTING STUCK ON MONKEY BARS AT AGE SIX.>

I could have expected less from myself. I could have kept expectations low. After all, there were doctors who told my parents I shouldn’t expect to have a normal life. I could have lived off social help, I could have been untrue to my moral and ethical compass.

Well they were right. My life has not been normal. Nor has it been ordinary. It has been EXTRAordinary.

And this is why. I made a pledge many years ago that if my parents were going to sacrifice being able to watch me grow up, in order for ME to have a better life, I needed to honor that. I needed to think of the largest goals and largest ambitions I possibly could. I needed to be unafraid to dream. I needed to be unafraid to TRY.

A major reason for this mindset was when I attended RYLA as a high school junior. Raise your hand if you’ve been to RYLA, the Rotary Youth Leadership Awards camp. If not, I urge you to go next spring. It is one of the GREATEST things Rotary does.

RYLA teaches high school juniors to work together; to break past their fears and worries; to value service above self; to dream, and to change their world while practicing ethics in every aspect of their lives. When I first attended in 1991 it changed my life! So much so that I go back every year.

RYLA also taught me the importance of humor in overcoming adversity. Humor helps you to overcome anything. It strengthens you. A couple years later if people would ask me how much it cost to go to Notre Dame, I’d say, “It cost me an arm and a leg.” And I’d say you can always trust me, because I’ll never commit armed robbery.

Ok, ok, I’ll stop with my disarming humor. Sorry.

RYLA is a special place because Rotary is a special organization. An organization that values service above self. An organization that teaches us if we have, we must give. If we prosper, we must help others. If we have time, we must serve others. If we don’t have time, we must make time.

So I ask you today: are you making the most of your life and your Rotary membership? Are you learning more and expanding your mind? Are you setting goals for you, and your club, that are more than safe and are exceeding expectations? If not, are you really living to the highest work and moral ethics possible?

You know, I entitled my first book “Swinging for the Fences” because that was the perfect baseball metaphor. Swing for the fences, hit a home run. But I took on a new challenge last year unrelated to baseball.

 I tried my first series of endurance races, from 5K’s to the San Diego Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon. The 5K’s I did on my own and the marathons I was part of a relay team. Let me tell you, going through the grind and exhaustion of a marathon with a prosthetic leg is not easy.

But it’s not impossible. <Pause.>

It requires months of preparation. It takes prayer. It takes stamina. It takes the ability to push through, even when your body wants to just stop.

This is living to the highest possible standard. This is giving it your all, because you CAN.

In my job, I am blessed to work for an organization that believes in giving. The San Diego Padres make community giving part of our everyday corporate culture. My role is to specifically help the ballclub impact the Hispanic community. That’s a part of having strong ethical standards.

I often talk to my mother about it, and though she’s getting older and battling some things, she’s tough. She tells me the pride she feels in my accomplishments and how I’ve overcome. I tell her it’s what she instilled in me.

And what Rotary instills in YOU. A work ethic that is tireless and fierce. A moral ethic to do good in this world!

It is who Rotary is! It is who we are! It is who we ALWAYS will be!

God bless you. Thank you.

USC vs. Notre Dame: Watching with the Enemy

For tonight's big match between USC and Notre Dame, I didn't go to our alumni club gamewatch because many of my friends were in South Bend for the game. Plus my buddy Joe Quiroz was downtown for an afternoon wedding so we agreed to meet up somewhere and watch the game.

The only place guaranteeing they would have the sound on was my beloved Tilted Kilt. Problem was, that's where the Trojan Club of San Diego holds their gamewatches. We definitely wanted to hear, as well as see, the game so Joey Q. and I decided to muster our courage and go behind enemy lines.

I arrived an hour before the 4:30 kickoff to secure a good seat and saw that every table had cardinal and gold pom-poms. Long banners proclaiming Trojan loyalty were stretched out and hung on opposite sides of the room. Gulp.

Then I heard, "Alex!" and it wasn't a long-lost Kilt waitress. (Hey, I haven't been there since Friday lunch.) It was Mark McCord, the USC alumni club president, who I know through my co-worker Scotty Baird. Mark is a terrific guy and he greeted me warmly.

Not every fan who started arriving was happy to see a guy with an IRISH t-shirt in their midst. An older lady with dangling 'SC earrings said, "Ugh! You probably like that little troll on ESPN, Lou Holtz." I was ready to break a chair over her head for insulting Dr. Lou like that. Then a man seated next to her replied, "Ah, she's always giving us a hard time." He obviously knew her and was an ND fan.

I soon enough had some back-up as Quiroz and our friend Vernetti rolled in. Then I got a text from my boys Pablo and Andres, who are SDSU guys but like ND. They wanted to come support and arrived shortly thereafter. On the opposite end of the rooting interest, but still a welcome guest, was my friend Cheryl and her friend Melissa, both of whom are big 'SC fans. So we had a full table and Cheryl took this picture:

As I gazed lovingly at the Kilt servers, the game began. It was the first home night game at Notre Dame Stadium in 21 years (because of the NBC contract) and Rockne's House was, well, rockin'. Mark says to me, "I think tonight you guys are gonna give it to us pretty good." He offers up a lunch bet, though, and I agree to it.

The Irish start horribly and as 'SC piles up a 17-0 lead, the cheers from their fans are squeals of surprise. I've heard squeals like that before, I've made squeals like that. No one talks any smack, however, except Cheryl looks at me smugly because her and I have a lunch wager too.

I see my man Chuck Fox walk in. Chuck handles PR for the Kilt, along with his wife Sheila, and was an offensive lineman for USC in, I believe, the 1960s or '70s. He's told me before that as an Irishman, Notre Dame is his second-favorite team. At their table is a lady who's apparently a devout ND fan because when George Atkinson III returns a kickoff to the house to make it 17-7, she dang near punches Joe and me with excitement.

The Kilt has their A-Team here tonight. In particular I really like Lisa, a Hawaiian-Hispanic-I-think, really pretty girl.

One older gentleman comes up and says, "I've heard you speak before. Thanks for joining us, Eric!" Uhhhh...

Cheryl now has her pom-pom in her hair and when ND fumbles at the goal line after clawing back to within 17-10, I have my heart in my throat. So pissed. On that fumble, which was returned 98 yards, every Trojan fan naturally jumps up and down and screams and goes ballistic. The place is bedlam, 100 or so Southern Cal fans losing their mind. Never have I felt so mad amid such surrounding joy.

Lisa walks by and smiles. I feel better.

There is one Trojan fan, seated with three others, who I notice claps on every play. Loudly. USC goes up 24-10, he claps. We respond with a TD, he claps. The Irish stuff a running play and the Trojans lose three yards, he claps!  This guy is insane!

ND makes it 24-17 and Joe and I are hollering and high-fiving the other, few like-minded supporters. One blonde chick seated up front turns around and gives a dirty look. Otherwise no one boos or shouts anything.

Lisa walks by. 'Sup, girl?  The guy claps.

Matt Barkley, who had a perfect night until Melissa jinxed him, caps a sensational night with his third score and we are done. Of course, the guy claps.

I notice one 'SC fan has shorts that are way too short. Dude.

The game winds down and it is obvious USC will win it 31-17 so their fans assembled here get a free victory shot on the house. Our table is just watching the clapping guy because every play, good or bad, he stands and claps. We start clapping for him too and his friend laughs.

Time expires and Trojan alums file past our glum table (glum except for the two girls) and offer up: "Good game" and "you made a nice comeback" and "good luck the rest of the way".

This was college athletics at its finest, just knowlegable fans enjoying a good game, and being cool toward each other. Often times, fans love to villify the 'other' but we're all the same. When 'SC scored, their fans were delighted. When they screwed up, their fans threw their arms up and shook their heads.

Most interesting to me was when NBC flashed a graphic of the athletic program's ongoing sanctions (thanks, Reggie Bush), they just quietly sat there. Not a word. And like all sports fans do, when the ref made a call against USC, someone would yell, "South Bend home cooking!"  And when the call went against the Irish, a Notre Dame fan would yell, "Pac-12 refs!"

It was fun and was exactly what all sports, especially college, should be. The Trojan Club of San Diego members didn't make us feel unwelcome or ostracized and, in fact, were friendly and classy throughout.

I'm just ticked that I owe several lunches now. I was sad at how my team's four-game win streak ended but it was enjoyable watching "behind enemy lines". 

Bye, Lisa. Call me.

Of Malcolm, Magic, & John and a Visit to a Community Garden

Last night I checked my work e-mail before I went to bed and I drowsily stumbled upon a message sent by my friend Malcolm in L.A.   Malcolm and I lived in the same dorm at Notre Dame, where he was a couple years behind me and a member of the football team. He is now a banking vice-president with his wife, who he met at ND, and two kids.

His e-mail was completely out of the blue in that it wasn't about our Irish's big matchup this Saturday vs. USC or anything about sports, except to say that his son really likes baseball and therefore was intrigued by my job.

The gist, though, was this: apparently on a quiet night in his household, Malcolm and his children, both under ten years of age, were clicking through his friends' various Facebook pages. When for whatever reason they reached mine - probably because I post more than Mark Zuckerberg himself - the kids started asking questions. I presume about my arms, though Malc didn't say that. They then told him that I "probably have a lot of friends".

Malcolm said, yeah, even in college he had lots of friends. But then he asked them, how can you tell Alex has lots of friends?

According to the e-mail, his son said something to the effect of, 'because he is smiling and in his pictures all his friends are smiling with him. That makes people want to be around him.'

For Malcolm, this was liberating. He actually called it "one of my proudest moments of parenting." I am guessing he has tried to tell his kids that how they treat others will be how others treat them. And boys, instinctively, kind of go the other way in that they try to be big and bad. When his children saw that I try to treat people well and am indeed blessed with many friends, something registered.

Well, I wrote him back the next morning, thanking him for sharing all that with me. But there were two things I wanted to elaborate upon as well. The first was that my happiness, my joy, my peace, stems from my faith. My relationship with God helps me to appreciate the good times and endure the bad. I can't take credit for being joyful unless someone knows why I'm that way.

The second is on my desk sits a picture of me with Hall of Fame basketball player Earvin "Magic" Johnson. I keep it on there not because he's a legendary Laker. But because when I was a kid I wanted to be tough like Malcolm's son's peers probably do. There's nothing wrong with being tough and standing up for yourself. But in everyday life, Magic was unafraid to just be happy, smiling, carefree, and good to others. It was refreshing in a world of spoiled and surly athletes. So I took a cue from that growing up because I felt like my nature was closer to Magic Man's rather than cocky Larry Bird or even - as much as I love him - trash-talking Michael Jordan. People responded when Magic smiled and laughed so I figured I'd try the same. Somehow they listened to me too.

So THAT, I told Malcolm, is why I'm known as a pretty happy person who loves people and is blessed to have people give love back.

I say all this because it underscores a cool experience I had today. My friend Pedro and I toured the Olivewood Garden and Learning Center in National City, where they have a self-sustaining garden for community kids to keep and preserve. It was really cool and the centerpiece of this plot of land is a Victorian-style mansion formerly owned by the Waltons of Walmart fame.

Two of the Walton offspring wanted their young son to live in a normal neighborhood, not a secluded and ritzy one, so they lived here for many years. The house is now a museum and community center and the garden is a community entity and is next to the International Community Foundation, which funds many causes on both sides of the border.

I bring all this up because Sam Walton wanted to make a difference in this world and that influenced his son John. That influenced John and his wife Christy into buying this house, smack dab in National City, for their son Lucas. The Waltons, in many ways, have positively impacted this country.

It's all about knowing who you are and not being afraid to make a difference. Magic did it with a smile, a basketball, and later a spirit to help inner-city entrepreneurs. The Waltons did it with an old house and a plot of land. People can make an impact simply by showing their true spirit.

Know who you are and don't be afraid to show it. That is the first step in really making a difference in this world.

Irish Football: After The Storm

September 4, 2011

Winners are not those who avoid adversity. Winners are those who overcome adversity.

That’s what disappointed me the most about Saturday. ND cruises down the field, everything’s clicking, and then – not uncommon in a season opener – Jonas doesn’t protect the ball while stretching for the goal line. It was stunning but it happens. I don’t think there was one member of Domer Nation who didn’t think we couldn’t get the rock right back after the kickoff and march to the goal line again.

But something seemed to happen to us psychologically. Sure, USF was buoyed by that play but a few first downs and their heads would have been spinning again.

Starting from our second drive, Dayne threw behind receivers, dumb penalties were committed, and we just fell apart. It was a miracle the deficit wasn’t 28-0.

Errors will happen in week one – a major reason I wish we would schedule a cupcake as a tuneup – so that wasn’t overly shocking. But how we became unglued was alarming.

Case in point: Theo makes the absolutely unbelievable folly of fumbling on a fair catch. Terrible but it should anger him, right?  Not to say he wasn’t fueled by it but the next thing we see on NBC is a close-up of him on the bench, face buried in his hands, sobbing. Are you kidding me? Why weren’t there any teammates around to say either, “Don’t worry, Rid, you’ll make up for it.  We got your back.”  OR “Hey, stop crying and get your head up, Domer, there’s a lot of football left.”?

I applaud Kelly for going back to him on the next offensive series in order to get his confidence back up. But between Crist’s bad throws and Riddick’s suddenly stone hands, drops ensued. It was inevitable that frustration would soon set in.

Also inevitable were the storms that drenched Michiana. Amazingly, it looked like they would work in ND’s favor in that it gave our lads time to regroup and refocused while taking some momentum away from Skip Holtz’s Bulls.  By the way, it was weird enough seeing Jack Swarbrick in full-color and 3-D, but especially when he looked like he had just been in a brawl with Jamie the Bouncer from the ‘Backer.

Actually, Jamie would pummel him in two seconds flat and snap him in half like a rain-soaked South Bend twig. But I digress.

The extended breaks seemingly cemented Kelly’s decision to go one small jersey number forward and two gigantic steps forward at QB. #10 and his errant passes were out and #11 and his scrawny body and accurate throws were in. People complain about Tommy’s small frame but all he does is rack up yards (296) and TDs (2).

Kelly either saw amazing throws from Crist in practice or wanted to give the senior – who, remember, has a year of eligibility remaining after this one – the benefit of the doubt. Hopefully at Michigan it’s Rees at the throttle with perhaps some packages for Ghoulson included.

I first-guessed BK for not play-faking to the tight end on that first goal-line series (Logan Washburn, you’re my witness) and will really first-guess him if he goes back to Dayne. Otherwise I have no problem with the game he called, or even his Old Yeller style, as attested by ND’s 5 yards per carry, 104 yards rushing, and 508 yards overall.

We have the talent to win in the Big House. But it’s going to take a return to stressing the fundamentals. It’s going to take leaders stepping up in practice as they did late in this never-ending game. It’s going to take guys being willing to endure a hard week. It’s going to take the mindset that 0-2 is unacceptable.  

STEP IT UP, IRISH!

How to Rid College Athletics of Corruption & Hypocrisy (Somewhat)

USC is in trouble. Ohio State is in trouble. Georgia is in trouble. And now the University of Miami - that bastion of glitz, bravado, and snarling in-your-face spite long known as "The U" - is in deep, deep trouble. All of these institutions, in one form or another, fell prey to student-athletes - mostly football players - accepting impermissible benefits.

As much as I dislike some of these programs, I don't judge or laugh at them (well, maybe just a chuckle) for two main reasons: 1.) Karma's a beeotch and I pray the athletes at Notre Dame don't give in to these temptations; and 2.) the entire system is corrupt.

What you have here is universities making MILLIONS upon MILLIONS of dollars and fans, myself included, who root fiercely for the guys from my school to beat the guys from your school. Often times the guys doing the beating (playing) are from poor cities and neighborhoods. Even if they're not truly impoverished, many are certainly not well-off.

And the NCAA will not allow them to hold down jobs like their classmates. Coaches want them practicing and playing as often as possible. Meanwhile universities are raking it in via sponsorships, ticket sales, licensing fees, and so much more.

It's no wonder these kids - and they are 18 to 21-year old kids - give in to the first scumbag offering a free meal, or fast car, or even cash.

This is not to justify any student-athletes who break the rules. Especially at Miami, where the freebies allegedly extended to prostitution and lavish parties.

But haven't we heard this song before? Programs have been busted for infractions since the early 1900's. In 1979 Texas A&M gave Eric Dickerson a gold Trans-Am that he eschewed for a bigger, though to this day still unspecified, bribe at Southern Methodist University. SMU eventually was nailed with the so-called "death penalty".

Michigan's Fab Five took dough. Reggie Bush accepted a free crib for his parents. In the mid- to late 90s some Irish players got the school in trouble, though the university acted pretty swiftly to prevent further damage.

The biggest problem is AGENTS. And agents only have a foothold because these athletes, like all students, need money! It's that simple.

My proposal, and granted it's very simplistic, is pay all student-athletes a stipend. Pay the high-revenue sports of football and basketball a higher stipend. That's all some want. Some will be greedy and want more, I know, but you're eliminating the agent as their main source of income.

The other problem, besides slimeball agents, is guys like Bush, Terrelle Pryor, and probably Cam Newton who leave behind a scorched earth. They do wrong, make it to the pros, and their alma mater is left cleaning up the huge mess. Their has to be some sort of legislation, either politically or as a partnership between the NCAAs and pro leagues, that punishes fraudulent student-athletes who become pro athletes.

The hardest part would be regulating a play-for-pay system. And I still believe 99% of the student-athletes are clean and not on the take. But that 1% are ruining programs and it's because we hold on to this obsolete theory that a scholarship is enough. It's not enough and the agents have invaded. Pay the players some of the millions they are earning for you.

Farewell, Harry, and the Generation You Impacted

Don't worry, if you intend to see the final installation of the Harry Potter saga, I won't divulge any plot surprises or storylines. So know that and also know I saw it as a capper to an outstanding weekend - one in which I went to the Maroon 5/Train concert with Lisa Lisa and Colleen McD; lunched with my college buddy JC, visiting while on Naval leave; and dinner with Slick, KRB, and Rossi at Casa Guadalajara, which then turned into an impromptu softball game on the sandlot next door.

Frankie had been asking to see this movie specifically, which he normally doesn't do, so even though my funds are a bit low, I had to do it. It's fitting that we went to Horton Plaza, because that's the mall where my sister had her first job and I've frequented it since I was 15, with high school buddies and adult dates. Further, Frank and I lunched at the Great Steak Escape (another longtime hangout) and on the TV was the sports documentary "The U". I mention that because in chronicling the rise and fall of the 1980s Miami Hurricanes, they also document some fierce battles with Notre Dame. I grew up on that rivalry. Such great memories.

And that, in essence, is what this final Potter chapter is about. Fantastic memories.

I could tell you about how once we slipped on our special-effects sunglasses, the visuals were astounding and Frankie was on the edge of his seat the entire time. Plus Hermione is even hotter in 3-D.

I could also note that the storyline tied up some loose ends while introducing some undiscovered "A-ha!" moments. A lot gets explained while there are still multiple twists and turns like an old stairwell at Hogwarts.

Conversely, one criticism I have is there are moments when they seemingly tried to rush through things. Instead of intense good vs. evil battles, or Harry and friends looking absolutely doomed - as in films past - it was almost like the creators just wanted to get through this. Like they were saying you know he's made it this far, there's no sense in fooling you into false despair.

But the way he gets out of things, and some of the end results, are worth your money. Between the 3-D, script dialogue, hotness of Hermione, and plot twists, I didn't want to remove my eyes from the screen to look into my popcorn. True story. As Ron Weasley says at one point, "Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!"

Now, this is what I've grown to love about Potter, including this final flick. I wasn't an instant reader of the books upon J.K. Rowling's debut release in 1997. In fact, it took me until 2009 to read them and catch up on the movies. But I quickly became riveted by two things: Rowling's writing and the way, quite literally in the cinematic productions, we were watching these kids grow. I love any movie, TV series, book, and sometimes even music groups that allow you to grow WITH a group of people.

For millions of people, Harry Potter spanned a generation as they grew from kids to young adults. This last movie captures that beautifully.

For me, I wasn't among that growth but I've enjoyed seeing it all around me. I love the character development and maturation and action and history of it all.

Potter and Hogwarts has always reminded me of Notre Dame and South Bend, Indiana. His struggles with his step-parents reminded me of some tough times my family had to work through too. And like I said, sentimentality was in full Swing for me this weekend because Maroon 5 has expressed my feelings in song through the 2000s; Jean-Claude has been a buddy since we were pre-freshmen at ND and I hadn't seen him since 2004; and of course I love my current MVPD crew.

And, you know, I love spending time with Frankie. It's not easy with a person who has Down Syndrome, struggles to walk long distances, and can be adamant about wanting more food. But I've come to realize how much he appreciates our movie days, and is genuinely grateful to me, and truly loves Potter. We got home to the aroma of fresh spaghetti wafting through the air, and I got ready for a workout walk, while Frankie immediately found a Potter movie marathon on ABC Family.

I'll always remember that. And I'll always be thankful to the Potter movies for many outings with Frankie. Today was a great day and this movie, in and of itself, was sensational.   

Latinos in Baseball Speech - July 6, 2011

Here is a speech I delivered at Cal State San Bernardino yesterday to approximately 100 Latino retired baseball players and Latino baseball historians. There were some current, college-age players as well. The event was a reunion and reception for the "Latino Baseball History Project", an archive and book series founded at CSUSB:

Baseball in our Heritage

Thank you so much, Dr. Caballero and Santillan, and Cal State San Bernardino.  It is such a great blessing to be here.

In my career, I have the honor of working for the San Diego Padres. It is an honor because I am working for a Major League Baseball team, but also because I get to work with the Latino community. As Manager of Latino Affairs, I oversee the Padres’ Hispanic marketing and outreach efforts.

I get to share my love of the game with others. And I do love this game. It is beautiful, it is acrobatic, it is passionate, and it is what shaped my life as an American immigrant.

You see, I was born in Medellin, Colombia in South America. I was part of a generation that was impacted by the morning-sickness medicine called Thylidamide, which was found to cause birth defects. As a result, I was born missing both of my arms and my right leg.

When I was four I moved to the United States so I could receive the proper medical care, including two prosthetic arms and a prosthetic leg. I moved to San Diego, with relatives who had already moved there, and it was a strange, new world. In my first book, “Swinging for the Fences”, I describe how everything was new: the language, the bigger houses, the constant swirl of activity.

I felt like I was on another planet and I felt lost. So I did what every kid naturally does - in my new home I turned on the TV. The first thing I saw was this game being played, men in their majestic white uniforms, playing on lush green grass, whacking this white ball around. I was captivated. Then the next day, it was on TV again. And then the next day. And then the day after THAT. I thought, this is the best NOVELA around.

I started to recognize certain words, like Ball, Bat, Stadium, and Ozzie Smith. Watching baseball on TV is what taught me English.

But it gave me more than a new language. It gave me a purpose. I fell in love with the sport and saw that, although I couldn’t play it, I could still work in it and be a part of it. It gave me a purpose and a passion.

Years later, after completing my undergraduate work at Notre Dame, I took a job in PR and then a second part-time job as an usher for the San Diego Padres.  This allowed me to apply for a full-time job within the organization, which I didn’t get. But I Kept Swingin’.   I applied again and again, and kept getting turned down. But I Kept Swingin’ and Swingin’.   Until finally, on my fourth attempt, I got hired into the front office.

I mention all this because it parallels the Latino experience in baseball. Ours is a history of struggle, and determination, but ultimately success in the game we love. Our community has been downtrodden, and often rejected, yet we persevere. It’s in our blood. It’s in our DNA. From the farm workers in the Central Valley, to the factory workers in Chicago, to hard-working first-generation college students in Southern California. We struggle and we overcome. And baseball is a constant part of our history.

That is why I fell in love with the exhibit here. When I first read “Mexican-American Baseball in Los Angeles” I was amazed. Not surprised, but amazed. I was amazed that teams have been formed in barrios, and in times of war, and as a means of keeping communities together. But I was not surprised at our level of passion, and perseverance, and pride. It’s in our blood. It’s in our DNA.

It is not important to keep this history alive – it is crucial. Today’s youth need to know about the Chorizeros, and Naranjeros, and Chavez Ravine, and Fernandomania.  Those are the predecessors to A-Rod and Adrian; Pujols and Panda; Reyes and Ramirez.    And the more cities we do this in, Inland Empire and San Diego and Tijuana and beyond, the histories will come alive.

I urge ALL of you to do two things: always keep supporting projects like these; keep the history alive; and the legacy flowing. And use baseball as your inspiration, your catalyst, your fire. Embrace adversity. Embrace struggle. Dream large.  Overcome. And always, always Keep Swinging!

Friends and Football

I love sports, especially football, but not just because of the hard hits or adrenaline or gratutious shots of cheerleaders. Football, probably more than any other sport, gives people a reason to get together, to congregate, to make a party out of watching the actual game.

Today I posted on Facebook pictures from my journey to L.A. two days ago for the Notre Dame - USC game. For the last ten years - literally a decade - every time I went up there I questioned my loyalty to the school as ND spiraled downward and USC shot to the top. Saturday was a reminder that I chose that university b/c of its blend of spirituality, sports, academics, and rah-rah alumni. USC is awesome too and I love their campus but ND was just a better fit for me (plus I wanted to explore life outside of Cali).

On the spiritual tip, I was blown away by God's small favors. A free ticket from my classmate Chad, little traffic (a minor miracle), literally running into Joe Quiroz on the way to the tailgate we were looking for, and after climbing up a loooooong stairwell finding that our seats were just three rows down - with seat backs! Plus I met a Hollywood actor, Milo Vetamiglini (sp.?), seated right in front of me and girls apparently love him.

What else? It rained but my Padres jacket and cap were perfect resistance. And I met the guy that dresses up as a Trojan warrior and we playfully sparred for pictures' sake. Frankly, a lot of 'SC fans were rude and condescending. But history has shown me that those tend to be just 'fans' of the team whereas most alumni are classy and good sports. Like the Trojan warrior - he was cool.

And that's what football is all about. Fun and good times. I capped the weekend by going to the Tilted Kilt on Sunday night with Rossi, Slick Nick, Soltren, Ana, D-Hanse, Rochis, Katie Barba, Ari, and Phil. We watched the Chargers pound the Colts 36-14. The Irish's 20-16 triumph could have been watched at home and I would've been dryer and warmer. The Charger beatdown could have been watched at home as well. Thank God neither were.