United Rugby Club wins another national title

Posted on May 18, 2013 by

United Varsity Champs 2013From the opening whistle it appeared that United was intent on leaving Indiana with a national championship. Led by their All-American captain Zach Webber the boys from Alpine, Utah would not be denied but they had to put every ounce of muscle, grit, determination and blood on the line for the coveted hardware.

Just a year ago Cathedral-Catholic had marched in try after try and left United gassed and flabbergasted in front of a home crowd at Rio Tinto Stadium in Sandy, Utah. This time around however it was Cathedral who were left wondering how to crack United’s impenetrable defense even after Cathedral scored the first try. Suddenly it seemed like United was destined to face another defeat by a very strong, athletic and scrappy young Cathedral side.

Not to be outdone, United gathered themselves, drew a deep breath and after a number of crafty moves by the backline and a heads up play by their rampaging forwards, No. 8 Austin Young scored a try just outside of the posts that was converted by fullback Connor Morris.

The celebration was short lived by United as Cathedral rushed to recover the restart that was knocked on just outside United’s 22-metre line. Cathedral again pushed forward but after another great defensive stand by United on no less than twelve phases by Cathedral, the referee awarded a penalty to United for hands in the ruck.

United kicked for touch and the back and forth affair began with both teams utilizing excellent kicking. Morris seemed to have the slight edge with superior support play from his wings, Porter Thomas and Folo Ulukivaiola. As Cathedral hurried to put up an organized defense, United’s forwards went right back to work, pushing past the gain line on every pick and go until lock Matt Mikulecky crossed over the tryline for a brilliant and well deserved try for United. The try was unconverted but United went into halftime with confidence with a 12-5 lead despite a yellow card to Junior Lagaaia who seemed to be targeted by the referee from the start with repeated offences.

At the start of the second half United was eager to put more points on the board as United captain Webber threw a nifty dummy, carved up the defense and raced in for another try to move the score to 17-5 after the missed conversion.

Cathedral would not go down without a fight as they again rushed the restart and were awarded a penalty when United did not release the ball after contact. Once again, United’s defense was put to the test as Cathedral ran phase after phase until finally a bit of daylight opened up just enough outside the breakdown for Cathedral’s No. 5 to slide in and touch it down. The try was unconverted but Cathedral seemed fired up and eager to put the pressure back on United.

But it was United that would capitalize after the game seemed to be at a deadlock with neither team willing to concede any points. After a knock on just outside of their own 22-metres, Cathedral packed down for a scrum but United was able to steal the put-in and United scrumhalf Kingston Matua skipped a pass to his All-American backline as Webber and outside centre Calvin Whiting charged down the ill prepared and shocked Cathedral defense as Whiting waltzed in for the easy try below the posts. Morris converted and the score of 24-10 seemed insurmountable for Cathedral at that point.

United_logoOnce again, United dug deep defensively to stymie the always bulldozing and pesky Cathedral offense but United held up the repeated attempts by Cathedral to crack the try line until the ref blew the whistle for full-time to a very jubilant United team and their zealous fans who had traveled far to witness another classic championship game.

Congratulations United Rugby Club on another stellar effort to win another national title.

Final: United 24 – 10 Cathedral Catholic

United Rugby Team:

Austin Young
Beau Kanenwisher
Brennan Moeller
Calvin Whiting
Chase Matua
Chris Norton
Coleton Peterson
Conner Morris
Danny Oakley
Dillon Pendleton
Ethan Brown
Folo Ulukivaiola
Isaac Fotu
James Griffin
Jason Adams
Jesse Arias
Jordaz Witehira
Junior Lagaaia
Karson Thompson
Kason Witehira
Kingston Matua
Matthew Brown
Matt Christensen
Matt Mikulecky
Monroe Dauwalder
Monty Schaap
Nate Livingston
Nick Perkins
Porter Thomas
Trent Hutchings
Tyler Coffing
Zach Webber (c)

Coaches:
Colin Puriri (Head Coach)
Aaron Webber
Chris Rudolph
Julian Witehira

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Teachers can be beautiful too

Posted on May 9, 2013 by

My parents were teachers so I have a soft spot in my heart for the profession and those brave souls who dedicate their lives to teaching others. It is no easy feat facing a classroom full of people who are looking to you for instruction, inspiration (hopefully) and often direction. Teachers, professors, trainers, instructors have the grueling (my word) task of enlightening minds and shaping lives.

Andy Rooney said about teachers, “Most of us end up with no more than five or six people who remember us. Teachers have thousands of people who remember them for the rest of their lives.” That is true of good teachers just as it is for bad teachers. Really bad teachers.

Thanks (or no thanks depending on how you look at it) to awful teachers with deplorable teacher-student etiquette, the teaching profession has taken a few black eyes in the media. It seems like every week we read or see news of teachers who have been inappropriate or acted with malice towards a student or even a group of students under their charge. Though the trend has grown since the media frenzy of Mary Kay Letorneau’s elicit and illegal affair with then 13-year-old Billy Fualau first hit the airwaves back in 1996, our obsession with teachers and their bad behavior is not a new phenomenon.

There are teachers fighting with kids, teachers recruiting kids to sell drugs and even a few who are enlisting kids to carry out murders. What’s next? Late night infomercials hawking “Teachers Gone Wild” videos?

But not all teachers are bad. I would even go as far as saying that the vast majority of teachers are good, decent, respectable people who want to change the world by first changing people. At least that’s who my parents were among many other wonderful things. If my parents had a teaching motto I would say it is, “Don’t tell me show me,” because that is what they often did. Their lessons were most effective when they showed kids rather than relying solely on discourse. And in my own experience, students responded much better to teachers who had genuine concern for their education and to a greater extent their welfare, a thing that this young student tried to teach his own teacher.

I had many wonderful and engaging teachers as a young man. I remember them fondly for the things that they impressed on my mind. I remember them with respect for the way that they pushed me to work harder, think deeper. I was not always a great student, but when I knew that a teacher cared I listened intently to every word they taught.

One teacher in particular, a stern, serious woman with a steely gaze once told me, “You’re one of the laziest students I have ever taught!” The immature adolescent in me immediately flushed with dislike until she followed up her first statement with, “But you have so much talent when you actually try to do your work. If you just did that all the time you will find that you are really a lot better than you give yourself credit.”

From that day forward I wanted to do two things: 1) Show her that she was wrong about me being lazy and 2) make her proud. I don’t know if she was ever proud of me but I do know that by proving to her that I was not a lazy student, I actually proved her right by being an actively engaged student. That year, I aced her class and she cultivated in me a love for words and writing, skills that I carry with me to this day.

I have a tremendous amount of respect for teachers and the work that they do. I have never nor would I ever want to be a teacher because it is a hard job and I prefer the tap-tap-tapping of a keyboard and the low hum of my laptop under the dim lights of my desk at work to the chaos and unruliness of a classroom. I deplore the actions of the few teachers who abuse their power but recognize the beautiful work of those beautiful people who on a daily basis are subjected to mockery, ingratitude and insubordination. But good teachers, like Rita Pierson in the video below, are beautiful people who do a difficult but a beautiful work – teaching people to be beautiful inside and out.

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Taking it to the extreme

Posted on April 23, 2013 by

praying womanI’m a God-fearing man. I hold deep religious convictions and belief in God. I have held these beliefs since a very early age and I do my best to live by the tenets of my faith even today as a worn out, jaded Christian. I am not perfect, as anyone in my family, any number of friends and most of those who call me their enemy can attest. Each day I strive to be better, to live better because it is all I can do.

I admire people of all faiths even though there are times when I find their passion and fervor to be alarming at sometimes, refreshing other times. Everyone has beliefs. Even people who make fun of people with principles have a set of their own beliefs –they believe that making fun of people with beliefs is entertaining. That’s a belief, right? But this story out of Philadelphia is baffling, heartbreaking and completely discouraging for those of us who believe in a loving, compassionate God. It serves as an example of how religious extremism often minimizes our ability to be humans and our capacity to draw on common sense. How can a person deny the basic necessities, medical assistance and medication to a child who is in obvious need?

And what about the extremes to which the alleged Boston bombers took their beliefs when they subjected innocent lives to bodily harm and death? When does a person decide that the basic tenets of their faith are not enough and that excessive measures are required in order to prove beyond doubt that they have absolute faith? I can’t understand because I honestly have not been in this type of a situation in my life. I have been passionate about things in my life – I still am today. But I have never allowed my fervor to cause me to abandon civility and I have definitely not caused death nor harm to others because of those passions.

The English are credited with the proverb, “In all things moderation and moderation in all things,” which loosely relates to both what we take as well as what we give. From my personal perspective, spirituality blossoms when we accept the word of God and it further flourishes when we share it with others. I believe that our spiritual, mental and physical health is achieved when we can find a healthy balance. In other words, it would be hard to function in the world if you have limited knowledge of and exposure to secular things. Your body cannot thrive and be healthy if you consume large quantities of unhealthy food on a regular basis (trust me I’ve tested this theory). Additionally, your spirituality will be stifled if your heart and soul are impenetrable to the characteristics of love and service towards others.

How do we realize a healthy balance? Perhaps the most likely component of achieving balance in our lives is temperance. Temperance can be applied in all aspects of our life not just in spiritual things. Just the other day I nearly ate myself into a coma. Even while I was consuming copious amounts of food my belly and brain were pleading with me to stop and that I was going to feel horrible for doing it. And yet I continued until I was too sick to lift another spoonful of food to my lips. Had I practiced a bit of restraint and listened to what my body and mind were communicating to me rather than adhering to the constant temptation of my taste buds I would have felt much better and probably would have felt good enough to eat another time. As it turned out, I had no desire to eat again for another 24-hours.

The world is full of zeal and enthusiasm to believe in a cause in all of its various shapes, forms and dogmas. Love them or hate them people with personal convictions be it spiritual, metaphysical, abstract or even physical they are here to stay. The only thing we can change is the way that we live our lives and I choose to live mine with a healthy balance of everything that makes me sane and somewhat pleasing to be around – a love of my family, a fierce loyalty to my friends and a desire to serve God and my fellow man. Hmm…Maybe I’m an extremist too?

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You only feel lost

Posted on April 16, 2013 by

driving-lost-cartoonI was on a business trip in Chicago several years back. It was late fall and it was my very first trip to the Windy City so I decided after work to take a drive and do some exploring as is usually my practice when visiting another town. Global Positioning Systems (GPS) were uncommon in rental cars in the late-1990’s so landmarks, maps and gas station attendants were still the most common way of plotting a route around unfamiliar grounds.

I made my way from the office in Downers Grove to my hotel in Oak Brook before making my way east into the heart of the city on I-290 until I found myself near the campus of the University of Illinois. From there I inched my way along the teeming streets of drive-home traffic on my way to the United Center just to get a glimpse of Michael Jordan’s home court knowing full well that getting into the facility was going to be a challenge.

Unfortunately my adventure took a rather unexpected and uneventful turn when being diverted for (you guessed it) and event that was taking place that night and I found myself several blocks further east on Lakeshore Drive. I made my way back in the direction that I only perceived to be westbound traffic only to find that I had been traveling northwest until I hit I-90/94. Being from Utah where there is only one Interstate and a loop I figured that if I got on I-90/94 I would eventually see signs for I-290 again and I could double back into the city. I drove the I-90/94 for what seemed like an eternity until I saw signs for I-290, missed the interchange and ended up on I-190 that took me directly to O’Hare International Airport. I doubled-back until I could catch the I-294 and somehow ended up on I-88 until I got tired of being lost and stopped at a gas station off the interstate in Napier.

“Where ya headed?” I nice lady behind the counter asked before I could ask her the fastest way to get out of the rabbit hole I had dug myself into.

“Back to my hotel,” I mumbled, embarrassed to be in such a predicament.

“Where’s that?”

“Oak Brook – Marriott.”

She took my map and with a Sharpie, drew a line from our current location all the way until my final destination – back at my hotel.

“You got enough change for tolls along the way?” She asked as she handed my map back.

“Yeah. Thanks, you’ve been a great help.”

A short while later I was back in my hotel room, flustered and exhausted that my entire evening had been consumed by road closures, detours, endless miles of unfamiliar stretches of roads and equally unfamiliar towns until I finally declared myself incompetent enough to seek help.

I thought about that a lot last night as I pondered the moments in my life when I have been lost emotionally, spiritually or when I have reached a point in life when I feel like I’m just going around in circles, never reaching my target destination or never feeling like I’m on the right course and my purpose seems unclear.

In those times I find myself saying, “I should ask someone.” And yet I can’t find the nerve or sometimes I’m too proud to admit that I need help, a little nudge, a little direction maybe even a little inspiration. But we would rather tough it out on our own even though we may absolutely have no clue which way is up or down, we know we are going to suffer some losses along the way, we know that we are going to lose/waste time and in the end we may not even be further along in the process in fact sometimes we may find ourselves farther behind. In the end we realize that if we had just stopped and asked we would have found willing help from people who are eager to help.

Earlier today this thought came to my mind – “If you’re lost in life right now you’re probably in the right place to be found.”

There are people out there who need our help but won’t ask for it. There are people who want to ask but can’t find the nerve to. There are people who want to help but don’t want to assume. We all fall into one of these categories at different times in life but can’t allow our inabilities to become our disabilities. Whether you are the one in need or the one who would like to give aid to someone in need we must use the same advice that I always give the youths that I coach – open your mouth and use your words!

No one is going to know that you’re struggling and on the flip-side, no one is going to know that you want to help if you don’t communicate. So when you’re feeling a little lost or when you want to offer your help just ask! In the end you will realize that you only felt lost but you were surrounded by people who know the way or can point you in the right direction.

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I’m begging you

Posted on April 4, 2013 by

empty handsI think I was ten-years-old. It was Christmas Eve and the only thing in the mind of a child is the promise of gifts from some jolly old plump guy with an affinity for cookies. My parents, as was always their practice had sent us to sleep early with the familiar threat that if we didn’t go to sleep as soon as possible, Santa Claus would skip over our house because we were being naughty.

So away we scampered, drunk with elation at the prospect of getting the presents we had wished for and wondering for the umpteenth time how St. Nick was going to access a home in Suburban Salt Lake City without a chimney.

I’m sure that I was in a deep slumber that night when suddenly I heard the slamming of car doors followed by a chorus of laughter, the shuffling of feet and I sat bolt upright. Was that him? Had he arrived in a station wagon instead of his sleigh? Had he brought his elves to help him unload gifts for the Samoan family of eight kids, two overworked parents, a cranky grandfather and the clutch of uncles, aunts and cousins who had come here for Christmas holiday?

My heart raced and I leaned over to rouse my brother from sleep when I realized that he too was already awake and staring at the heavy drapes over our basement room window.

“Is it him?” I asked.

“Probably,’ was his wide-eyed reply followed by, ‘go look.”

I stood at the foot of my bed and was about to lift a corner of the drapes to steal a glance when I heard the strumming of a guitar and voices stir in unison….”Manuia le Kerisimasi!”

I jumped back from the window and burrowed under the heavy blankets wondering if they had seen me and if I had lost my only chance at getting that BMX bike that I had been begging my parents for since last Christmas. And then it dawned on me – Santa and his elves speak Samoan?

“It’s those silly Samoans again,” my brother must have said with much disappointment as we both sighed and listened to the boisterous and unruly singing that we came to know as “’Aisiga”, the Samoan tradition of visiting homes to entertain its occupants in the hopes that their humorous and engaging performance would compel their listeners to part with a few coins.

Over the years ‘aisiga became a common occurrence in our home; one that we received with great pleasure as our parents explained to us the true meaning of giving through their actions more often than they expounded in words. Money was always tight in our home, but even when they had no spare change to offer, my parents always welcomed them into our home for a hearty meal and a prayer of gratitude for friendship and a plead for good fortune in the future.

The antics resumed when we moved to Samoa but there was another element that was introduced to the slightly misanthropic mind of an American teen who oftentimes viewed life with a rose-colored tint. I found myself in a strange predicament; something that I had never encountered while attending school back in the United States – someone asking me to share my lunch because they did not have lunch.

Him: Can I have some of your German Bun?

Me: Stunned, confused and speechless thinking ‘I don’t even know this kid’.

Him: Staring at me

Me: ‘Sure’ – I break off a piece and hand it over to him

Him: ‘Faafetai lava’ before devouring the German Bun

The exchange was brief but it left enough of an impression on my mind that it was the first thing I asked my mother about when I arrived home from school that day and it was a topic of discussion between my brother and I on the walk home.

That was so many years ago and I can hardly remember anything that was said that day but my mother’s life not her words reminded me often that no matter what your situation is in life, someone can always use a helping hand. There is always someone in desperate need. There is always someone in need of comfort.

I’m a selfish person. It is a part of me that does not conform to the life that my parents taught us to live but I’m trying daily to be better. When I see panhandlers on the road, when I hear of people asking others for help, my first reaction is always ‘Why don’t you help yourself?’ and then I realize much too late the entirety in which my hypocrisy has consumed my jaded mind because I’ve been in that situation. I have been down on my luck. I have lived paycheck-to-paycheck and I know the sound of my children crying because they are hungry.

A plea for help comes in many forms. I hope I recognize it before you have to ask.

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I would do anything for my kids, and other lies

Posted on March 22, 2013 by

LiarLiarThere is a lie that I have been telling myself for many years now. It is a lie that I have perpetuated for a good part of eighteen years. It is a lie that I believe most parents will tell without batting an eye and for good reason – it sounds good, it sounds plausible and when it comes right down to it, we actually believe that we can do it.

The lie is – I would do anything for my kids.

How many times have you heard someone say, “I would kill someone for my child?” Lie. The truth is, if Lil Johnny came to me and said, ‘Daddy can you kill Bobby for me? He keeps winning everything.’ No Lil Johnny that’s not how we resolve conflicts in relationships. But if someone were to enter my home, threaten my family and put Lil Johnny’s life in peril, than we’re talking about a whole different kind of conflict and chances are, I will do whatever it takes to protect my family. Two different scenarios, two very different responses. Shanna Widner’s mom Wanda Holloway chose a different course, which is why I refuse to believe that killing someone for the sake of putting my child on a pedestal and to elevate my own status is out of the question.

How many times have you read stories of people lying or playing the system in order to gain an advantage for their child, to keep their child out of jail or to make sure that their child wins? This may sound stupid to people who have done these types of things before but the thought (so far) has never crossed my mind. Sure, I’ve gone to great lengths to make sure that my sons run harder, jump higher, speak clearer, study longer and I am guilty of asking people to tutor, mentor or spend extra time with my sons to get better at something, anything. But I have never considered paying someone (I’m poor) to throw a game, doing a favor for someone in order to gain favor and I will never lie in order to save my sons from a consequence of their own actions. The new developments in the Shabazz Muhammad case is the most recent example of how parents will do anything to put their kids in a position to win at all costs.

If my sons willingly plan and participate in a crime I will not protect them from prosecution. On the other hand, if my sons are being persecuted, bullied, harassed or harmed for their beliefs the savage parental beast within me will instinctively be unleashed. I am a firm believer in paying for ones crimes. I am equally fixed in my belief that no one should fears for his/her own safety when exercising their God-given rights and their agency. Mary Susan Cascaden loves her boy, but her love is helping him break the law.

I will not clean up after them when they are thirty. Hey, I spent the first months of your life wiping your butt and cleaning up your crap. I’m still cleaning up the crap you leave on the floor in your room, the dishes you forgot to wash for the fourth straight day in a row, the laundry you conveniently slip into my laundry basket and you think I’m going to keep doing that when you’re old enough to have your own kids? My parents did several things right when they raised us and one of the best things they taught us was to clean my room, the house, the yard and pretty much any place where I or even someone else makes a mess. What kind of men are we raising if I allow my sons to treat our home like they are hotel guests and I am their host, cleaner and janitor without any repercussions? I would be raising the kind who have no self-respect; men who do not respect the property of others; men who are not self-sufficient, who are co-dependent and irresponsible. Today you’re cleaning up their messes around the house, tomorrow you’ll be cleaning up the mess they have made of their life. Here’s an interesting article about Adult Children Working the “Parent System”.

I guess in a way I am cultivating yet another lie in my mind because the truth is I really would do anything for my kids – as long as it is legal, moral, ethical, honorable, fair, unbiased, reasonable and right and as long as it does not impinge, impact, or strip another persons’ rights nor should it ever harm another person or even my sons in any way. In which case, I’m not so much a liar but I am definitely a father.

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Build them to become

Posted on March 19, 2013 by

Dormagen Germany housesWhen we were kids we dreaded dark blustery, wintry days. Even rainy days were miserable. They were days spent indoors staring at tiny bubbles and cracks forming in the wallpaper. They were indolent times when reading books and reflecting on the meaning of life became more of a chore than the actual chores we were assigned to do around the house. They were restless times spent hassling, mocking and teasing each other. They were days spent staring out into the grayish morning hours until the equally inky hours of dusk waiting, hoping for a sliver of sunshine to pierce the clouds so that we could run outside and play for as long as the heavens would hold back the next wave of rain or snow.

Somewhere in those troublesome and disorderly indoor hours we found ways to occupy our time. Most of our time was wasted in the idle chatter and frivolous play of youth. But when we were feeling really industrious we would build things.

Mom would shout down to us in the basement of our split level home in West Jordan to calm down and behave as we would built houses with cards, houses with sheets, houses with nails and boards and houses with pillows and blankets. Once we built an elaborate maze of tunnels throughout the house using everything we could find. We did this for hours and for days on end, marveling at the things that we could do if only we set our minds and imaginations afire. Those days became magical in a sense because in my childish wonder I felt that I could build anything so long as I had something to build it with.

Perhaps as a byproduct of that childhood spent indoors on those cold, harsh wintry days I cultivated a love and a fascination for architecture. I’m particularly engrossed in the history that surrounds old buildings. How were they built? Why did the builder choose a specific material or a certain design. I gravitate towards old buildings because they have survived the ages and have so many stories to tell – some of them are well documented whereas others are secreted away in the dusty corners and moldy crevices never to be told.

Old buildings draw us in with their rich history whereas new buildings have not had time to show their resilience; have not suffered the chips of time, have not felt the bite of two decades of storms or the oppressive heat of two dozen more; have not known the pitter-patter of little feet and the stomp-stomp of larger, older ones within their bowels. And yet new buildings are every bit as necessary as old ones.

If buildings could talk I imagine that their conversations would be a lot like the conversations of humans from all nations, climes, cultures and times. I wonder if the coliseums in and around Rome would say, ‘They came here for sport and to see the spectacle but the things that happened with these walls were atrocious, tragic and horrific.’

In a way we are not so different from the structures that we build (I’ve been accused of being inanimate, large and in need of serious maintenance many times). Each of us is built with the same blue print but we have different designs, different purposes and different functions in life that draw us to and away from different people. We are attracted to certain types of people – some of them are beautiful, some are interesting, others draw us in because they are eccentric, quirky and weird. Some people make us feel comfortable, make us feel ourselves, make us impulsive in the same way that a cozy nook in your house, a romantic place overlooking a beach or a disproportionate cozy cabin in the hills can make us feel.

Some of us build things while others tear them down and both of these serve their own purposes. In many ways I compare this to the process that Super Mom and I have supervised the “building” of our sons and the gradual transition of giving them supervision of building their own future. I hope and earnestly pray that we have done more building than we have done tearing down.

Recently we asked a series of questions about parenting that we found in The Ensign. Up until that moment we thought we have done a fairly decent job of raising them. But as they did their best to honestly answer the questions without harming our egos we found that what we had really done was a really good job at making them less resilient. We discovered that we were ‘tearing down’ more often than we were building up.

Certainly, we have not been training future serial killers, sadists or animatronic sociopaths intent on ridding the world of vegans in our home, but are we doing everything within our knowledge and power to build men who will honor, love and respect their God, wives, children, country and community? Are we using the right materials, incorporating the right knowledge and expertise and giving the right support to build a man with a firm foundation rooted in good principles and the ability to deliberate, ponder and decide what is best for him and the people that he loves?

The recent events in Steubenville and the distressing example of boys like T.J. Lane are another wake up call to us as parents, coaches or community leaders that now more than ever we need to build men of integrity, men of character, men of respect with a reputation of doing good to all living things and an immovable disposition in championing the poor and downtrodden.

Build them to withstand the test of time so that their stories draw you in. Don’t tear them down to the point that the result is a life that repulses you. Build them to become….

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