Apologies to all for forgetting to add the second question about English Muffins last week. I neglected to insert a question asking about the difference between WHOLE GRAIN and WHOLE WHEAT. Still not clear.

Additionally, it was suggested that whipped butter and butter spreads were confusing, mostly to guys. Thanks to Jim and Mike for their contributions.

Optimism is starting to creep into the collective consciousness of the country, and some of the most important things are starting to open up, for example, Fenway Park. That's right, my son and I will be in Section 10 of the Pavilion on Saturday, April 17th, fully masked and probably with parkas and a blanket as the Red Sox take on the White Sox as part of the 12% of seats that will be occupied. April games can be brutal in the upper deck as the wind whips across the park.

The game will be a milestone for us: live sporting events are part of our DNA, plus, the day is sure to provide fodder for a future Wednesday Weblog. Inspiration is where you look for it.

Until then, I am adding another sport to the Weblog archives today. So far loyal readers I've already (pick one) a) bored you, b) inspired you, c) made you think, or d) none of the above, with stories about my baseball, hockey, soccer and running 'careers' (ok, sports meant a lot to me) and now, I am adding the most unlikely sport of all: football. That's right, this is about my football 'career.'

I hope you get a kick out of it. (Some lines write themselves).

The way we’ve always done it is usually a pretty good way.

However, the enemy of great is good. Things cannot reach great if we are working and settling for good. Recently I finished Megyn Kelly’s biography, entitled ‘Settle for More’ and it is a great message, but it is easier said than done.

This is the story of a my fraternity's intramural football team leadership who embraced the ‘we’ve always done it this way” mantra. It is also a story that supports one of my favorite sayings: it is a big advantage in business and life to be underestimated. Nothing else gives you quite the same edge.

Before the story starts, a well-known secret among the soccer-playing community is that most soccer players are jealous, at least in the United States, of football players, and especially football placekickers. In addition to football players being more popular with girls in high school, they also play in front of larger crowds on Friday night or Saturday, while for soccer the 'big' games are on Tuesday at 3:00 pm while the busses are filling up. Hardly seems fair.

It is a mixed jealously, for example, we always root for the placekicker to make the big kick, (except against the Patriots), and feel awful when we see the camera shot of the dejected kicker who hit the goal post with the game on the line.

The only football I played growing up was the pick-up variety behind the elementary school. And yes we played both touch football and tackle football without any protective equipment. We were kids, and in those days, kids lived a mostly unprotected life.

At the University of Massachusetts in Amherst, where I 'studied,' Intramural Football was a big deal. There were six lit fields, 50 yards long, more than 200 teams, hundreds of spectators. And yes, an occasional Friday Night, with lights. My fraternity team had a history of mixed results: sometimes good, sometimes bad. If I was available when there was a game, I was there rooting the guys on.

During my first four years at UMass, because I played on the intercollegiate soccer team I was ineligible for intramurals in the Fall (well, I might have been eligible, but the soccer coach would have kicked me off the team if I was caught playing).

However, during my second senior year, (that’s another story for another week), I was eligible and wanted to play, well actually, I just wanted to kick off.  

Soccer players everywhere fool around with kicking an American football for fun, and I had kicked field goals by myself for years and had actually 'visited' Alumni Stadium on more than one occasion when it was empty and tried kicking on the real field just to fantasize what it would be like.

A Brother named Louie had kicking duties on our fraternity intramural football team, for several years, but in my youthful arrogance, I assumed that the coach would rather have a world-class (in my own mind) kicker, rather than an untrained leg. I was wrong.

At the first game, I went to the team captain and said, “Can I kick off to start the game?” I was told ‘no’ because Louie always kicked off.

Louie was a big burly guy from Worcester. So, I stood on the sideline and watched as Louie 'pounded' the ball about 40 yards downfield. Not very impressive, but we'd always done it this way, so who was I to judge?

The game continued until it was fourth down for our team and we were still about 15 yards away from the goal line which would make it a 35 yard field goal. (15 yards plus a ten yard end zone, plus 10 yards behind the line of scrimmage). Most teams didn't kick field goals because, surprise, they didn't have good kickers. Going for it on fourth down was the rule rather than the exception. Plus, since Louie had already demonstrated that he could only kick it about 40 yards with a rip roaring running start, this was not exactly field goal territory for Phi Sigma Kappa.

But sensing an opportunity where none may have existed in 'the way we've always done it' world, like a little puppy I ran back to the team captain and said, “Can I try a field goal?” He laughed at me because it was so far, but a couple of guys urged him to let me try. I'm not sure if they had confidence in me or were looking for a good laugh.

A short time later, we were leading 3-0 and I had kicked my first ever field goal: a neat 35-yarder. To say I was ecstatic would be an understatement. I was already dating the girl of my dreams and future wife, so I knew the 'attracting girls' part of my new football persona wouldn't be activated, but it was still a big ego trip.

Naturally, I went back to the team captain, thinking that I had just proved myself, and said “can I kick off now?” I was told ‘no’ because Louie always kicked off. About 15 minutes later, we had the ball again, but had little success and were faced with another fourth down at midfield, the 25-yard line.

Like a little puppy I went up to the team captain and said, “Can I try a field goal?” He laughed again because it was so far, but after what had already happened he shrugged his shoulders and told me to go ahead and try. A short time later, we were leading 6-0 and I had kicked my second ever field goal: a neat 45-yarder. To say I was borderline obnoxious would be an understatement. To say I was a little surprised would also be true. I knew I was good, but this good? You're kidding me.

Confidently, I went to the team captain, thinking that I had really, really proved myself, and said “Can I kick off now?” I was told ‘no’ because Louie always kicked off.

A few minutes later, we were faced with another fourth down, but we were now at our own 15-yard line. Staying in puppy mode, but with a little bit of swagger to me, I sauntered over to the team captain and said, “Can I try a field goal?” It was hard to tell me not to try, in view of what had just happened.

It was a big risk. If I missed the other team would have the ball on the 15 yard line and was almost sure to score. If I had bet on the outcome of that kick I might have made a fortune. As I lined up, everything stopped, even kids on the adjacent fields paused as the word spread that an idiot from Phi Sig was going to try a 55 yard field goal. People were confused because the team closest to the end zone was on defense and the team with the ball had their kicker lined up in their own end zone.

You can guess what happened next.

The ball was snapped, the holder put it on the ground and I took four or five steps and I slammed that sucker 55 yards right through the middle of the goal posts at the other end of the field for a 9-0 lead. If anyone applauded, I didn't hear it. I was an official football star (in my own mind) after all those years.

Just as I headed toward the bench Louie ran out to me with the kicking tee and asked me if I wanted to kick off. I said “Thanks, Louie” and my first kick-off almost went through the uprights sixty yards away, and we stopped doing things the way we had always done them and no one was underestimating me anymore.

Although the pandemic provides billions of examples of things that will not be the same in the future as they were in the past, there may be something in your job that you are doing the way you’ve always done it, that may be good, but may also be getting in the way of great.

There are three questions you can ask yourself if the way you are doing things is the greatest way to do them.

“We’ve always done it this way” through history would have prevented the computer, the cell phone, the SUV, the internet, and Snickers bars. What are you doing that is preventing greatness from happening in your area?

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