The softball team will learn its opponent in the NCAA Championships on Sunday. The baseball team, meanwhile, will be heading to New York City to renew its rivalry with Columbia in the Ivy League Championship Series with a date in the NCAA's awaiting the victor.
And the football team that wrapped up spring practice Saturday? Just watching, because while every other sport in the Ivy League is allowed to go on to the postseason, the football team isn't.
•Speaking of football, I ran into an old friend at the post-Green & White pig roast Saturday who mentioned he has forwarded the story reprised below to friends considering their career choices. I thought about that last night when That Certain '14 called in advance of a full day of interviews for a corporate position in a big city (they are all "big" when you grow up on the shoulder of Moose Mountain ;-)
When I walked down the driveway this morning to get the newspaper and was greeted by the view pictured here I knew I had to post the story once again.
|Click photo for a better look|
As much as I don't like quoting myself, here's what I wrote the last time I posted this story, and nothing has changed:The investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked.Inside the small boat were several large yellow fin tuna. The investment banker complimented the fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.The fisherman replied, only a little while.The investment banker then asked why didn't he stay out longer and catch more fish?The fisherman said he had enough to support his family's immediate needs.The investment banker then asked, but what do you do with the rest of your time?The fisherman said, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life, señor."The investment banker scoffed, "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat."With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You can leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually NYC where you will run your expanding enterprise."The fisherman asked, "But señor, how long will this all take?"To which the American replied, "15-20 years."But what then, señor?The American laughed and said that's the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions.Millions, señor? Then what?The American said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos."
Over the years I've been asked why I stuck around this scenic little valley of ours instead of trying to work my way up the newspaper ladder so that I could perhaps cover Super Bowls and the World Series, NCAA championship games and the Stanley Cup.
Well, I did leave once, and I didn't like what I found, so I came back.
So no, I'm not reporting on BCS bowls. I'm not living in the big city. And I'm certainly not making the big bucks. But guess what? You make your choices and I'm happy with those I've made.
My family and I live in beautiful, peaceful part of the country. I write about accomplished student-athletes who play for the right reasons and will do great things in their lives. I work with coaches and administrators at the college who trust me and treat me with respect.As an aside, several folks who worked hard to earn the big bucks left the big city and moved to our quiet dirt road over the years. When I walk outside on mornings like this I feel a little like that fisherman ;-)
A visitor who to our yard this morning . . .