Power in the hands of the donor

No less than six "please fund my (fill in the blank)" populated my Facebook feed this morning on this Giving Tuesday 2018.

The power of philanthropy has definitely shifted to the donor - the individual who can now not only easily give to whatever cause they wish but also develop their own cause for a crowdfunded effort.

It's a new age of philanthropy.

How will those of us in the established world of philanthropy keep up? Understanding donors and why they give, or don't, is now paramount. To not understand donor behavior is to be replaced by some other cause, be it an established charity that has shifted with the times or a donor-generated outlet for giving.

The power of giving is truly now in the hands of the donor.

#GivingTuesday

"Greatest rivalry in sports"

"It's the greatest rivalry in sports."

So said the promotional voice-over leading into the Michigan at Ohio State football contest today in Columbus, Ohio. And, of course, the Wolverines-Buckeyes rivalry is, indeed, special. The Big House. The Horseshoe. Hail to the Victors. Dotting the "i." Great uniforms, nationwide fan bases, iconic stadiums - this one has it all.

But, the "greatest?" Let's take a look at some facts to consider.

First, let's set the parameters for how we consider this and other great rivalries. We'll keep this focused on team sports in the U.S., and will only consider those rivalries that span at least 50 years of existence. And, finally, let's be parochial and only consider the major U.S. sports of football, baseball and basketball.

Here we go.

Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees. Iconic teams and broad fan bases symbolize this rivalry. These teams have met 2,257 times in their 100 year plus competition. The Yankees lead the regular season history, 1,202 to 1,018; they also lead the postseason meetings, 12-11. The fan bases, shall we say, don't like each other very much.

Green Bay Packers and Chicago Bears. These two have 22 NFL championships and five Super Bowl trophies combined. The teams have met 197 times with Green Bay holding a slight advantage, 97-94-6. Again, iconic venues, traditional uniforms, Lombardi, Halas - it's the NFL's oldest and best rivalry.

North Carolina and Duke in college basketball. If there is a rivalry that I think matches or exceeds Ohio State and Michigan, it's this one. Simply consider the numbers: one of every four national championships over the past 36 years has been won by one of these schools. One school is private, the other is public. The campuses are 10 miles apart.  The overall record leans to UNC, 137-111.

Will Blythe, a North Carolina graduate who went on to be editor of Esquire, famously wrote this: "To legions of otherwise reasonable adults, it is a conflict that surpasses sports; it is locals against outsiders, elitists against populists, even good against evil. The rivalry may be a way of aligning oneself with larger philosophical ideals - of choosing teams in life, a tradition of partisanship that reveals the pleasures and even the necessity of hatred."

Auburn and Alabama in college football. The Iron Bowl. These two in-state rivals have met for 71 straight years since 1948. Alabama leads the series, 45-36-1.

Are there others? Of course - here are a few that are bitter rivalries but did not make the above short list because of overall current relevance and impact, or the fact that the rivalry is no longer in place. (The overall record is in parentheses for each rivalry.)

Oklahoma and Texas in college football. (Texas leads 62-46-5.)
Oklahoma and Nebraska in college football. (Oklahoma leads 45-38-3.)
Kentucky and Louisville in college basketball. (Kentucky leads 34-16.)
USC and Notre Dame in college football. (Notre Dame leads 47-37-5.)
Texas and Texas A&M in college football. (Texas leads 76-37-5.)
Penn State and Pittsburgh in college football. (Penn State leads 52-43-4.)
Kansas and Missouri in college football. (Missouri leads 57-54-9.)

Honorable mention:

USC and UCLA in college football.
Georgetown and Syracuse in college basketball.
Kansas City Chiefs and Oakland Raiders.
Harvard and Yale in college football.
Florida and Florida State in college football.
BYU and Utah in college football.
Dallas Cowboys and Washington Redskins.
Indiana and Kentucky in college basketball.
Xavier and Cincinnati in college basketball.
St. Louis Cardinals and Chicago Cubs.
Stanford and California in college football.

55 Years Ago

November 22, 1963. The day the country changed for good. The day that innocence was lost.

The date, of course, is the day that President John F. Kennedy was assassinated by Lee Harvey Oswald as the presidential limousine cruised through Dealey Plaza in downtown Dallas.

I was in grade school and will never forget the ashen look on the face of my teacher as she entered our classroom after having been summoned to the principal's office. As she spoke, the tears began to flow and only as an adult do I understand the enormity of her responsibility in telling her second grade class that "a terrible thing has happened in our country."

That tragedy was broadcast into our living room and homes across the country. We all sat rapt as we watched Air Force One arrive in Washington, D.C. with Jackie Kennedy and our new president, Lyndon Johnson. We watched the replay of Jack Ruby gunning down Oswald in the basement of  Dallas police headquarters. We watched the funeral procession and the cortege. We watched our country's version of the royal family grieve in public.

I take a moment on this date every year and think back to that time and how a generation was changed, forever. It was the first time in my young life that I realized that there was bad in the world.

"Epic collapse"...not!

The words "epic collapse!" flashed across my Facebook feed late last night as I surfed through social media in the wake of an overtime College Football National Championship victory for Alabama - the school's fifth national championship in nine years. The post referenced Georgia's 13-0 halftime lead and the fact that the Bulldogs couldn't hold on against their SEC counterparts.

The words "collapse" and "choke" are thrown around in such cavalier fashion whenever a sports team fails to protect a seemingly large lead. And, those words last night were incredibly unfair - the Georgia loss was anything but an "epic collapse."

The Dawgs didn't wilt once Alabama started its comeback, scoring a touchdown after Alabama had trimmed UGa's lead to 13-7. And, don't forget that Georgia was previously victimized by a questionable offsides call when they blocked an Alabama punt early in the second half.

No, last night was about a great coach - Nick Saban - making an adjustment and bringing in a true freshman QB to spell Jalen Hurts, knowing that Alabama had to throw the ball in order to come back. The words "collapse" and "choke" do a disservice to what Bama did to win the game and what Georgia did to try and hang on.

Great coach, great coaching staff, great players, making plays - that's what last night was all about.

Sports, taking a knee...and bribery

Remember when sports was our getaway - our safe haven for a couple of uninterrupted hours in front of a TV or in a grandstand seat enjoying the emotional ups-and-downs of athletic competition? Remember when our sports bar discussions were about Romo versus Dak and not about Jerry Jone's locked arms with his players, kneeling on a sideline?

It's not been a good week for sports as our happy place, whether one's been caught up in the ceaseless back-and-forth on taking a knee during the national anthem or now with the revelation that a handful of college basketball coaches and adidas have been colluding to bribe and direct high school players to favored schools.

Yes, politics is not new to sports, whether it be Muhammad Ali's draft evasion in 1967, the raised fists of John Carlos and Tommie Smith in the 1968 Olympics, Billie Jean King fighting for equal pay for female athletes or the many, many other examples I could cite.

And bribery? Well, sports and dollar bills go together like Black and Sox, with many examples since that baseball game fixing scandal in 1919.

This, though, feels different, bigger and more intrusive. The nation's most popular sports property is openly at odds with the President of the United States. And, when news broke of the newest scandal in college sports, the majority of sports journalists on my Twitter feed reacted with "this is just the tip of the iceberg" or other words to that effect.

Sports, as we know it, may never be the same. Will the NFL and college basketball survive? Probably...but the impact being felt will only exacerbate declining attendance and declining ratings that we are seeing across all of sports.

There aren't many brands in sports that are winning right now. And that makes me sad.

R.I.P. Frank Deford

Where have all of the great sports journalists gone?

The death of Frank Deford is yet one more indicator that the era of great sports journalism practiced by the likes of Deford, Dan Jenkins, Curry Kirkpatrick, Roy Blount, Jr., Roger Angell, Dave Anderson and others has long since gone.

The loss of Deford hits close to home as his writing and presence in Sports Illustrated was why Thursday was always a great day - that's the day the magazine would show up in my mailbox each week. When he started The National, a daily sports tabloid newspaper, in 1990 I made sure that I went out of my way to find that publication.

What set Deford apart is that he was a storyteller - he had the uncanny ability to find "the story" and give it to us, his readers, in a way that held our attention through every word.

Deford was concerned about the loss of storytelling and had this to say in a 2008 interview: "I think there are more good sportswriters doing more good sportswriting than ever before. But I also believe that the one thing that's largely gone out is what made sport such fertile literary territory - the characters, the tales, the humor, the pain, what Hollywood calls 'the arc.' That is: stories. We have, all by ourselves, ceded that one neat thing about sport that we owned."

In 2013, Deford won the National Citation from the William Allen White Foundation at the University of Kansas School of Journalism & Mass Communications, the only sportswriter to win this prestigious award. At the acceptance ceremony, Deford said, "The wonderful thing about sports writing is that it's a great subject to write about. Sports is drama, sports is glamour, interesting characters. It gives you so much as a writer."

R.I.P Mr. Deford - we will miss you.

"The bonds of baseball..."

I've had a strange relationship with the sport of baseball. As a youngster, I probably spent more time on or around a baseball diamond than I did any other place than my home. As an adult, I evolved from fanatic follower of the 1970's and 1980's Kansas City Royals to apathetic, disenfranchised fan of a sport that seemed to delight in punishing my small market hometown team. (And, of course, those post-Ewing Kauffman years were pretty dark for my Royals until the wonder years of 2014 and 2015.)

Baseball, more than any other endeavor in my life, was the consistent thing that linked me to my father. I played other youth sports back in the day when one went from season-to-season during the year and back again. And, in all cases, my father was there blowing the whistle, holding the clipboard, and diplomatically dealing with parents whether it be for my football team, basketball team or baseball team.

It was baseball, though, that connected us more deeply than the other sports. If we weren't playing a game or practicing, chances were that my Dad would be hitting me ground balls at the local diamond. Or, we might have a game of catch in the backyard. When we weren't actually playing the game, we were listening to the game. My memories of summer included Sunday afternoons sitting on a lawn chair, likely by Dad's small orchard or garden, watching him weed or pick while we listened to the transistor tuned to the St. Louis Cardinals. (My father's favorite player was Stan Musial.) You can imagine how the tears flowed the first time I heard Ray Kinsella (Kevin Costner) ask his father, "Hey Dad...wanna have a catch?" in the ending scene of Field of Dreams. 

That backdrop of emotion came flooding back when I read Lee Siegel's column, "The Bonds of Baseball, From My Dad to My Son," which recently appeared in the Wall Street Journal.

Siegel elegantly wrote, "Any sport that has accompanied you through life acquires a certain metaphorical power. When I stand behind my son to teach him to bat, draping myself over his small body and holding the bat along with him, I feel that I'm embracing my past and my future, even as we practice together how to handle whatever the present wants to pitch at us...One function of sports is to organize familiar rituals of play that also pass - with their own stories and feats - from one generation to the next."

I cried when I read those words. I cried because I remember my father holding his hands over mine, showing me how to hit. I remember his hands on a baseball, showing me how to throw. And, I remember that September afternoon in 1964 when he and I stayed in the car while Mom went into the grocery store. You see, he and I couldn't miss the call of Harry Caray that day as our Cardinals blanked the Pittsburgh Pirates, 5-0. The Cardinals were in the midst of their improbable National League title run when they overtook Philadelphia, who led the league by 6.5 games with 12 left to play in the season. The Cardinals went on to beat the New York Yankees in the World Series that fall. And, yes, I smuggled a transistor radio into grade school to listen to my then favorite team - it was my favorite because it was my Dad's favorite.

Like fathers before me and after, I taught my son the game as well. As Seigel wrote, that's part of this bond that baseball seems to have on fathers and sons. "Watching my own son play baseball, or playing with him, gives me the necessary illusion that he will do the same with his child, and that his child will continue with his or her own child, and on and on, the bonds between father and child becoming even stronger, into the same changeless dusk."

My father left us in June 2015. And, I miss him every day. I think of him most frequently now that it's baseball season. I know that if he were still here and I'd call to check in, his first question would be "What are we going to do with our Royals!?"