Pep Talk: "What Needs To Be Done"

Dawn had broken, but little light was available in Vail, Colorado. Birds began their early-morning chirp, seemingly encouraging the sun to keep climbing and appear above the massive and picturesque Gore Range just to the east. Delivery trucks stirred noise and fumes as cherished family and friends slept after a festive night celebrating our nation’s 239th birthday. 

The cranium kept going back to one thing. A statue. A symbol of America at its best. A sentry watching the town’s famous “Covered Bridge.” But also, symbolically watching us, current residents and stewards of the American way. It’s a statue honoring those who served our country in the 10th Mountain Division during World War II. 

For this simple dude, the ten-foot tall soldier, with skis over right shoulder and weapon strapped to upper back, powerfully moves the Missouri marrow. The soldier’s determined look and purposeful march are constant reminders to a comment read recently in the Denver Post. From a veteran still alive – there aren’t many left - from that terrible war: “We just had to do what needed to be done.”

Amen to that, buddy.

Fascination with the 10th began more than 20 years ago. A neighbor had been a member. “Pajama John”, known to water his lawn while still in sleepwear, would speak in reverent tones of service and sacrifice on skis.

The 10th Mountain was inspired by what happened to Soviet troops in November 1939. They were defeated by Finnish troops on skis protecting their homeland. The incident caught global attention and the heart of Charles Minot Dole, founder of the American national ski patrol. He pestered the War Department - now Department of Defense - to form a similar unit in the US Army. We needed troops, like Finland’s, who were experts in fighting during winter and in mountainous terrain. The 10th Mountain Division was born. Dole, who recruited expert skiers to the unit, had a spirit resonating: “I just had to do what needed to be done.”

Another member of the 10th, Pete Seibert, is known as the founder of Vail. The Massachusetts native trained at the Army’s Camp Hale, near the yet-to-be-formed Colorado town. The expert skier served in the division which helped defeat Nazi Germany and, after the conflict, returned to the area and led the charge to create the ski resort he had envisioned. Seibert oozed a “Do what needs to be done” spirit. 

What about us?

Maybe it has to do with family, work or community? It’s what Victory’s A Stronger Cord wellness project envisions. Sure, it starts with a workout, but it’s about better fitness, relationships and communities. ASC’s Knuckleheads are just trying to do what needs to be done in a nation hampered by too many isolated, unfit and stressed folks.

As Americans, let’s never allow our World War II veteran’s spirit of courage, ingenuity and commitment to fade. We owe them that much. Look around, take action and just do what needs to be done.

Let their spirit be your guide. Good luck!

Pep Talk: "Find Your Niche And March!"

As the assembly of peaceful and prayerful humanity snaked through northeast Denver, my simple mind wandered to an earlier moment that spoke to the power of unity.

The cranium-crashing moment was from a few days before. The tenth "Buffs 4 Life" golf tournament. As a sportscaster, I covered University of Colorado athletics for almost 20 years. There are many cherished memories of hosting coaches' television shows, traveling on the team plane and developing relationships that will last until this aging jock croaks.

Especially from the Buffs' football program. It has certainly fallen on challenging times, but for a stretch, especially from 1988 through 2001, CU was a national power. The players, coaches and staff from that era have remained valued friends.  Events like a golf tournament bring us together and ooze with the truth of what's possible when personal egos and agendas are set aside and everybody rallies behind a common cause. In the case of Buffs 4 Life, that's caring for members of the Buffs' athletic family who have experienced adversity.

Devoted to a cause beyond ourselves. That thought pulsed through my veins as 225 people of all colors, addresses and beliefs strolled through northeast Denver for the first of five prayer walks encouraging a lessening of gun violence that plagues our city and nation.

Back in 1989, the Colorado Buffaloes' football team powerfully demonstrated the power of unity. Inspired by the tragic cancer-induced death of starting quarterback Sal Aunese, a talented, but young, squad of Buffs had a magical season. Under the direction of Hall of Fame coach Bill McCartney, CU won every regular season game, rose to number one in the polls before losing, in disappointing fashion, the national championship battle to Notre Dame in the Orange Bowl.

"One Heart Beat" was the team's motto. It produced fantastic results. As I ran ahead of the crowd walking through Park Hill in an effort to get a picture capturing the moment, the hopes of a simple dude from Missouri were that we can replicate a similar spirit in stopping the senseless gun violence.

It will not be easy. We have to give kids alternatives to gangs and their violent tendencies. It's one goal of Victory's A Stronger Cord wellness movement. We're trying to build dynamic sports programs in gang-infested parts of Denver. Kids need another team to play for. We need coaches. These kids need positive male and female role models. You?

Sports and fitness, in addition to being excellent stress reducers, are wonderful connectors and equalizers. Folks, this ain't rocket science, but it takes a united effort. Whether we're talking about becoming superior to our former selves in reducing gun violence, providing quality education, running a successful business or whatever, unity and a common sense of purpose are critical to prevail against what ails.

One heart beat. Yoked. Willing to charge from the foxhole together. Call it what you want. Look around this week to see where your time, talents and treasures can help.

Find your niche and march!

Pep Talk: "Those Who Called You, Grandpa"

“I love Sundays,” offered the handsome and lanky college kid. “I play golf with my dad.” This heartwarming statement came from my nephew about his father, my brother.

It came on a warm Missouri day during a golf tournament to raise money for youth sports in Raytown, Missouri. Long ago, when your scribe grew up there, youth sports were vibrant. A community super glue. Like everything, things have changed and a dedicated group is trying to transform youth sports’ participation in the Kansas City suburb. We all know from experience, it’s good for kids and community. Through Victory’s fledging Another Team project we’re trying to accomplish the same thing in gang-influenced parts of Denver.

Anyway, on Father’s Day 2015, while flying back to the Mile High City from Kansas City and a fabulous weekend that included the golf outing, mom’s 80th birthday celebration and other cool stuff, cranium kept wandering to nephew Nick’s “I love playing golf with my Dad” comment.

History was repeating itself. This young man’s father, younger brother Matt, had a similar history with our father, the late Marvin “Mac” McIntosh. After our parent’s divorce, the youngest of four kids, now a successful Minnesota-based businessman, husband and father, began playing lots of golf with the McIntosh clan’s patriarch. 

The three older kids, this knucklehead included, were away at college or beyond. A bond between father and son was forged over forged irons, metallic woods and fond memories. A love affair that now involves a third generation of that limb of the family  tree. 

Being the ever-growing sentimentalist, tears of joy moistened thy face as we cruised down the fairway in pursuit of tee shots. Also in our foursome, the before-mentioned brother and Uncle Al, dad’s brother. A wonderful man, now 81-years-old and the only surviving sibling of my father’s generation.

Heart yearned for another round of golf with, as buddy’s called him, “Hacker Mac.”  We had much fun at the course. Heart swelled with pride knowing younger brother and his son were keeping the McIntosh golfing spirit alive. I get to play with them. Yay me. 

The memories aren’t about unbelievable shots or lucky bounces, but of time together. Dad would open up on the golf course, or in the clubhouse bar afterward. Share the struggles and joys of a guy, oldest boy in a brood of six kids, forced to grow up fast, become a man and face life with an amazing spirit of turning lemons, the heck with lemonade, into sweet and savory margaritas.

My old man was respected. Adored. My younger brother is a chip off the ol’ block. Those traits are filtering to Matt’s two sons. As the father of two amazing kids, I feel a genetic pull to keep Hacker Mac’s spirit alive too. It’s touching the next generation. Now it gets personal, Dad, those who called you “Grandpa.”

Perseverance. Optimism. Character. You embodied them and many other admirable traits. You’re gone but will forever, especially from golf carts rolling down fairways, be remembered. Pops, thanks for showing the way.