I was some kid when I was growing up.  I had a lot of things figured out.  For example, in the 7th grade, I wrote a history paper explaining that when the Republicans were in power, we had depressions and financial crises.  When the Democrats were in power we would end up in a war.  I concluded by explaining that it was up to the American people to decide whether they wanted war or depression.  I was amazed by the fact that I was the first person to figure that out.  I was really annoyed when I got a C- on my paper.  So much for originality of thought!

Another thing I figured out was if you approached every game like it’s a “life or death struggle,” you lose less often.  And, I did lose less often.  I was a really bad loser and, come to think of it, a really bad winner.  Kids didn’t like me, but, hey, in a life or death struggle, where does friendship come in?

My Dad was an excellent checker player.  I wasn’t happy when he beat me, but I had removed checkers (with him) from a life or death struggle.  When I was ten, we went on a vacation in the Ozarks and I played checkers with my Uncle Bob.  I could tell from his moves that he was no match for me.  I jumped one of his checkers and the next thing I knew, he made a triple jump into my king row.  The checkers were made of Bakelite, an early plastic, and before I realized what I was doing, I crushed four of the checkers in my hand.  I wanted to play him again, but he refused to play with broken checkers.

Not much changed through high school.  I think I seemed like a normal kid until I got on an athletic field and then the adrenaline and the old philosophy took over.  When I reflect back, I’m surprised someone didn’t throw a net over me.  Then again, there was reinforcement for my philosophy.  We never lost a football game the entire time I was in high school.

Football is a sport that requires its players to be emotionally “up” for the game.  Senator John Culver, one of my partners at Arent Fox and a friend, was a star fullback at Harvard College.  He told me one day while we were on the topic, “Jack, it’s not the kind of sport where you get up in the morning and while putting on your socks, say to yourself, ‘Well, I guess I’ll go out there today and throw my body into people with the distinct possibility that either they or I will be injured.’ ”  I guess I never figured out how to get “up” for a game without being in a frenzy.

East St. Louis Senior High School played teams from as far away as Chicago and Indianapolis just to fill out our schedule.  In October, 1954, we traveled to Warren Central High School in Indianapolis.  I was the second string quarterback.  My parents went to the game.  They watched our game on Friday night and then drove up to Purdue to see my brother Bill play for the Missouri Tigers on Saturday.  We beat Warren Central 19-0 and I got to play in the 4th quarter.  I threw a long pass to one of our ends.  He was ten yards behind everyone and I hit him right in the hands.  He dropped the ball.  I went crazy.  I was storming on the field.  I was storming on the sideline.  How could he do that to me when I threw such a perfect pass?

On Sunday, my Dad sat me down and told me that Bill had not gotten into the game against Purdue.  But, he was much prouder of Bill than he was of me.  He read me the riot act regarding my antics on the field (and on the sideline).  And so the process began.  I began to realize that I had to be accountable for my actions.  At a minimum, that meant not showing up my team mates.

My rehab has never been completely successful.  But I do have an additional philosophy that I live by and recommend to you.  It is, “If what has you upset won’t be bothering you in three days, then it’s not worth getting upset over.”  If you break a plate – clean it up – move on.  Even if you have a fender bender – get over it.

This won’t come as a shock.  Even though I have been playing many sports for many years, I have never received a Sportsmanship award (never even been nominated).  But then, any committee who knew me, might think I would find the nomination insulting.