Message from a Fading Star

Tell me. Tell me what to say. Tell me what to feel. Tell me how to rearrange all the words in the English language to throw your world into chaos. Tell me what you want me to do, then tell me what I want to hear. Tell me you’ll always need me; you can never live without me. Tell me I am such an important part of your life, that my absence makes life lose its very worth. Tell me I can make someone feel that way. I’ve shouted it to myself at the top of my lungs, to no avail. Tell me how I can make you fall for me, then fall.

I am the farthest star in your night sky. You see me, and even gaze in amazement at times, but you will never be able to reach me. I am nothing more than a ball of swirling madness, absolute madness, light years away, and no matter how amazing I may be, you will always be content with glancing up every now and then just to make sure I’m still there.

What if I weren’t? What if my light runs out? What if I collapse from within? Will you notice? Will you miss one inconsequential speck of light in your life? Will it break you down, tear you up, turn your whole world on its side? Have I done enough to make you even think of me when you aren’t staring right at me?

Tell me I am more than inconsequential. Tell me I am the last thing you want to wish upon every night, then make your wish. Tell me you love me. Then tell me again. And again. And again.

Until you finally mean it.

Unintentional Craziness. Maybe.

I can’t for the life of me think of what to write. I’m sitting here with my finger firmly on the backspace key, shaking my head at everything that comes out of it. The world blows by us, faster each day. Millions of sounds, thoughts, pictures, feelings, and I can’t find one to write about. Which ironically enough brings me to write this. Apologies for the cliché, but what is this? Ramblings of a mad man, and leading to what end? We read thousands of things every day; meaningless, mindless drivel, everything that will never move your soul or pluck a heartstring. I don’t want to be one of those; I will not be content with one in a million. You should come here to feel somethi-no. No. I should come here to feel something, and I do. It’s right here in front of you. You should come here to feel it with me. This right here is my biggest fear and maybe, probably my best talent. But for it to mean something, anything at all, it must truly come from within me. I came to an agreement with myself that if I did this, I was doing it. Matthew Richard Brock means something different to you than it does to me. But if I can make you feel what I feel, if I can move you just an inch, light one candle within you, then maybe we can start to see the same person. Maybe I’ll be able to smile about him more often. Maybe one day, the world will be reading this. Imagine how much more light would be in the world with so many candles…..

I love to write only because you read. If that means I fail out of the gate as a writer, so be it. But I do this to see your reaction, to see that whatever I was feeling in that moment has resonated with you. If it doesn’t, if empathy escapes you, then there was no point, and then I have truly failed as a writer. That will be the last time I ever write. Until then, enjoy the ramblings of a mad man who still can’t think of what to write. (And who can’t keep his finger from laying on that backspa

Dream

And so it ends. The wave of a hand, the wrench of a heart. Goodbye’s inevitability makes it no easier to endure. It can bring with it the worst of empty feelings, the knowledge that you once had everything you could dream of, but couldn’t grasp it firmly enough. Everything will change, time will tick, but you will never forget that time and place, or that look in his eyes, and the way the moon lit them on fire. Yet for your sake, he can be nothing more than a memory, an irreplaceable and inexplicable pain that shoots straight through everything you are. And if you let it, that pain will leave you dreaming of the life you could have had, instead of making the one you already have better.

I have been dreaming for far too long. I have been wishing, praying for some semblance of myself to reappear, while simultaneously knowing that I am no longer that man. I have been torn down. Stripped. Burned. I have been reminded how stacked the deck is against me, how low I am and how much further I can still fall. He made me feel greater than anything in this life. He smiled and the world fell to its knees. He was everything I needed, the only thing I needed. But I couldn’t hold on to him, and in a flash and a bang, he was light-years away, and I was broken. I was broken, and worse, I was content. Life wasn’t good enough, but it wasn’t going to get better.

Then I picked up the pencil, and it all came flooding back…

That time, that place. Those eyes…the pain, joy, every heartbreak and miracle in between. It hit me like a gust of wind you could not imagine. All the worst pains in my life, punching me in the gut all at once. But I was alive. I cried, for a long time, as I wrote whatever my head could muster. I lived through it one more time, so that he and that life could never haunt me again. I’m tired of being broken. I’m tired of living within my fears. I’m tired of waking up and dreading the day. I am simply tired. For years I have been shattered, but these words feel like the first steps toward being whole again, stronger than I was before. Maybe these words are just what I need to finally wake up, once and for all, and see the life I have is better than any life I could possibly dream of.

 

And so it begins.

Let Go

Release yourself Matthew. Let it all out. Forget what you know, what you think you know, what you wish you knew. Let it all go. Fear your tears no longer, face that which you swore you would hide. What would you say to yourself? What if the mirror could talk back? Would you scream at the top of your lungs? Would you fall on your knees? What if everything inside your heart were projected to the world? Would they still love you? We all have monsters inside, skeletons from our closet come back to life to haunt us as soon as we turn the lights out. Can you live with yours? Would it make a difference? Let it all go. It doesn’t matter. Not a god damned bit. Your life is hard; that is not a secret known only to you and the mirror. But are you strong enough, good enough, to overcome it? You feel like you’re here for a reason, for a specific and special reason. Yet everyone around you is looking through you….can your voice be loud enough and pure enough for them to hear you? You have people, friends, family that love you, unconditionally and for who you are, even when you can’t love yourself. So then why is it that that broken mirror and those forsaken skeletons are the only ones who reach out and touch your mind and soul? Why, if this swirling madness around you is consuming you and killing you, can no one reach their hand out to save you? Do they really expect you to save yourself? Can you? Or more importantly, should you?

 

 

Don’t stop typing. Don’t ever stop thinking. Don’t ever stop writing. One day, one glorious day, they will all know how you really feel, Matthew. You’ll scream at the top of your lungs. You’ll fall on your knees. They will still love you. You CAN live with your demons. You can make a difference. And some day, when you can fall no further, and your own strength can carry you no further, they will reach their hands out, and lift your weight upon their shoulders.

 

And you can finally let go.

Let’s give this a shot…

Well. Hello world. It’s been a while. This blog was going to be the thing that…I don’t know, kickstarted my sportswriting career? That never quite panned out. I’ve ventured pretty far from my writing days…until recently. But I think I’m something better than terrible at writing, and it doesn’t hurt, at least not yet. Putting what’s in my head on a web blog for the world to see is a little daunting, as I have not yet gotten over the fear of what everyone else thinks…I want you to like what you read here. But I can’t write differently because of that. If this is my best shot at letting the world see me, then I’d be a fool to not take it, especially out of fear. So here goes.

A Bit of My Random Thoughts On Sports, Part 1

Firstly, before I begin this extremely random set of thoughts I have regarding sports, let me apologize to any who have been waiting anxiously for me to make a second post. I know that all two of you who have read my first one are extremely excited to see this second one come about. Secondly, if I say anything you feel I should need to qualify further, please comment and let me know. I need you, my reader, to make me better. Thanks. Now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for. I’ll leave my thoughts limited to 5, for this post at least. Would hate to bore you to sleep.

1. I was 3-1 in the Divisional Round of the NFL playoffs. My picks are still on my Facebook, feel free to read them. Not saying that it’s an outlandishly amazing accomplishment, but I still take pride in picking the Giants over the Packers. That’s one bandwagon I just can not jump on.

2. The Packers were the most overrated 15-1 team. EVER. They rode to that record on the arm of their better than average quarterback, and a group of slightly decent receivers. They would have been 14-2 if they had faced the Saints later in the season, and would not have made it to the Super Bowl, even had they defeated the Giants. I have said all along, that any of the other playoff contenders in the NFC could beat them, and that one would in fact overcome them, at some point in the postseason. But people kept jumping on that bandwagon, and what happened in the end, against a mediocre team, with MAYBE a top 10 QB? Discount double choke. And yes, I did just relish that.

3. If they pick Cam Newton as the Rookie of the Year, over Andy Dalton, it will forever mock the prestigious award. This is not the Statistical Beast Award, this is an award for the rookie who performed the best, which arguably means, the rookie who helped his team accomplish the most success. Cam Newton? Statistical beast. Dalton? Playoff participant. Meanwhile, the Panthers get to smile at the fact that they ended the season 6-10 and with a top 10 draft pick (either 8th or 9th, to be decided by a coin flip with the Dolphins). The award goes to Dalton. Everyone knows it should. If it doesn’t, it will further prove, just like the Packers situation, that the league is becoming more and more of a bandwagon league.

4. I’m going to throw some NBA in the mix, because quite honestly, I love it. Tim Duncan is one of the greatest players ever, arguably THE best all-around player ever, and a personal hero of mine. The first time I heard his name, was the years ago, the day after my cousin’s funeral. This cousin, who was 21 when he was killed in a car wreck because of another irresponsible driver, was a die hard Spurs fan. I was given his favorite shirt he would always wear, a shirt commemorating the Spurs’ first championship. Since then, I hold a special place in my heart for Duncan and the Spurs. And, having had none of my sports idols actually retire during my time of fandom of sports, it will truly be a sad day when Timmy decides to hang it up. First ballot hall of famer, and among the greatest of all time.

5. For my final thought, I’ve decided to give my picks for the NFC and AFC championship games a little early. And I predict a Super Bowl rematch between the Patriots and the Giants. Yes, I know, I just called Eli and the G-men mediocre earlier on in this post, and who could blame me after the way they played throughout the regular season? But they’ve caught fire late, and that means something, just as it did 4 years ago. Eli will beat the 9ers with his arm, as will Brady against the Ravens. Defense does NOT win championships, ladies and gentlemen. Defenses better than the opposing offense does. As much as I love Ray Lewis, I’ll take Brady over him and Ed Reed, should he actually play (and for the sake of watching good football, I’m crossing my fingers he does). And the Giants defense is lightyears better than the 9ers makeshift offense. So it stands to reason that Brady and Manning will fight it out on the biggest stage, one more time. I won’t make score predictions – yet. And I’d like to make the obvious statement that these picks hold up only if no important injuries occur. If Eli Manning gets knocked out of the game (honestly don’t wish that on him, but it could happen), it obviously changes things. But there you go. It’s printed in black and white. Praise me if I’m right. Hate on me if I’m wrong. Would want nothing less.

Whew. That was thoroughly exhausting. Will definitely have to do more of these random tidbit-posts. It’s fun. And though it’s 2 a.m. here, I feel wide awake. I’m excited to get this blog up and running, officially. Thanks for reading. And check back for another post. Till next time, folks.

Gays in Sports is Not a Bad Thing

It’s coming, folks. That topic which has been so elusive in the sports world is finally making its way to the forefront of round table discussions and bar conversations alike. And it very well could be the begining of a revolution — or civil war — the likes of which we have not seen in sports. Now, I’ve heard all the arguements that acceptance of gays in the locker room is as unattainable as having the BCS make sense. For generations, we have been taught by our elders that homosexuality is abnormal, evil even; gay men and women are looked upon as diseased. That feeling of contempt has bled into all aspects of life: education, military, and yes, sports. Fear and dislike have become the natural stigmas associated with gays, men especially.

So when you attempt to put gay men in the most manly of past-times – sports – it’s only natural that most people would have a huge problem. Straight men don’t want to have to second-guess their fellow teammates; they don’t want to have to worry about which of the other guys in the locker room is going to look at him funny. It’s completely understandable: straight men simply don’t want to be hit on by another man, especially not in a room where they change in front of each other. So, homosexuality can NOT be allowed in athletics. After all, all gay men love to make all straight men uncomfortable, right?

If you agreed with that last statement, let me apologize. I was not aware that Neanderthals still existed, let alone could read.

The truth of the matter is, homosexuality and sports can coexist. It doesn’t have to be a big fanfare. Here’s a secret 99% of gay men keep to themselves: we don’t want to be noticed. We don’t want to be probed about who we are or what we do when we go home. We want to be able to tell the world we’re gay, and move on. It’s not about making a scene; it’s simply about being accepted.

Let me stop you all, before you expect me to tell you how the situation can be fixed, how gay men can be seamlessly incorporated into organized sports. I do not have that answer. I do not know what it’s going to take, or who in the NBA, NFL, MLB, or NHL will finally step up and say “I’m gay.” What I do know is that it will take more than one man saying it to make it ok. Homosexuality will be viewed as a problem in sports for some time to come. In all honesty, by the time that gay athletes don’t get a SINGLE dirty look, the Browns will have won 3 Super Bowls, college football will have a playoff system, and Brian Wilson will have shaved. It will be a while before this issue is no longer an issue; yet it is finally being talked about, even if those conversations are whispered. The begining of a new era in sports is here, ladies and gentlemen.

Hail to the Revolution.