From Roy Hobbs to Rocky Balboa—We Remember Robert Redford

As my students walked into class this morning, I played the theme from The Natural. To hear Randy Newman's masterpiece, especially inside a baseball stadium is an ethereal experience—otherworldly, delicately beautiful, light, and spiritual. In class, I did not expect the prologue to bring us to another realm, but I did want to set the tone to honor the American actor, activist, director and producer: Robert Redford. He died in sleep; he was 89 years old.

I was too young to see Robert Redford’s most popular films in theaters—The Way We Were, The Sting, The Great Gatsby, as well as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid— among others. But in 1984, I saw The Natural at the Dome theater in Pleasant Hill. I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but I loved the era, the setting, the symbolism of Wonderboy and the character of Roy Hobbs. Redford was too old for the role (he was 47) but to me, he was a good fit. Why? He had a great voice. It is low, measured and quietly authoritative. Those qualities gave Roy Hobbs a sense of dignity, humility, and determination. He emerges as a man who lets his actions, not his words, speak loudest. 

I read Bernard Malamud's novel, "The Natural" in high school. I was shocked to discover the ending was far different than what I had seen on the silver screen. That dissonance confirmed, "The Natural is not just a baseball movie—it’s a mythic American parable dressed in the rhythms and imagery of the sport." (Rolling Stone). In this instance, the protagonist might have been Robert Redford—and not Roy Hobbs.

On KGO radio I learned that Robert Redford once admitted he felt discriminated against because of his good looks. Casting directors, he said, sometimes dismissed him for roles, believing his “All-American” image made him unfit for certain characters. It struck me as a curious plight—being too handsome for Hollywood—but in at least one case, I think he was right. The 1976 Academy Award winning film: Rocky. 

Can you imagine Robert Redford as Rocky Balboa? Could you cheer for Redford as the Italian Stallion? I couldn't. And yet, it could have happened—if not for the grit and resolve of Sylvester Stallone, who not only wrote the script but insisted on playing the role himself.

According to Screenrant, 

Producers and directors loved Stallone’s script but weren’t enamored with the idea of him playing the main character, which was a condition he insisted upon. Instead, they had much bigger names in mind, such as Peyton Place’s Ryan O’Neill, Burt Reynolds, Robert Redford, and James Caan. The latter three were all Hollywood A-listers and household names that audiences were accustomed to seeing on the big screen. To the producers, it just made sense for someone like one of them to star in a movie with Rocky’s potential.

I find this anecdote to be a fascinating one. Sometimes we make choices to be part of something or not. At other times, the decision is made for us. Had he earned the leading role, would Redford have accepted the part of Rocky? Do you think he too could yell "Yo Adrienne?"

Life takes funny turns—up and down, in and out. We are left with memories, stories, images, and song. Whether it’s Sir John Williams’ masterpiece, the theme from Out of Africa, or the mystical melody of The Natural, Robert Redford gave us a face, a voice, and a presence that captured our imagination and our hearts. Not in the boxing ring, but on the baseball field, while fly fishing, and in so many other moments. And perhaps, in the end, the words he spoke are the truest: “Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.”

Photo Credits
The Natural
Rocky

The Story of LSU's Tiger Tuba Kent and the Importance of Dreaming

I told a former student just the other night at dinner that I was in need of some inspiration. Part of me felt disappointed for even admitting that. After all, I work in a school and am surrounded by young people every day. Heck, I teach a class called Sports and Spirituality. There's no shortage of inspiration. Ever. But lighting that fire within just can't be forced. It isn't a given. 

So I did what the Gospel of Matthew calls us to do: seek, and you shall find. And I did find it—through the unlikely story of Kent Broussard—a 66-year-old freshman at Louisiana State University. After decades of working as an accountant, Broussard enrolled as a non-traditional student, carrying 12 credit hours. That full-time status made him eligible to try out for and earn a place in the LSU marching band.

Initially, I read his story with suspicion. I wondered if he was a donor who had taken loyalty to the next level. I needed to know, Was he a current parent who went further than decorating his child's dorm room with a designer on the payroll? Was this some prize pick for a "friend of the program?" Did he pay up for an auction item allowing him to wear purple and gold inside Death Valley? I read his story and caught the interview.

As I watched, I noticed familiar signs of a people and culture I got to know and appreciate during my two years living and teaching in Napoleonville, in South Louisiana. In the background was a framed Saints jersey and on the adjacent wall was what else? a deer head. This man with a fantastic Cajun surname is true South Louisiana. Of course he yells "Geaux Tigers."

With the support of his wife—God bless this woman—he undertook physical training to prepare for tryouts. He practiced and prepped. He earned his keep. 

Broussard believes, “People can use this as an example — your only failure is not trying. If you don’t try, you won’t get there."

He lives by the motto "people retire, dreams don't." Some of us dream of retiring. Others don't have that luxury. But for Broussard, this stage of life offered brought the opportunity of a lifetime: the chance to march down Victory Hill, to carry and play that tuba in front thousands of adoring fans...and others who will be called "Tiger Bait" by that home crowd (I was in the Fall of 1997. ND 24, LSU 6. Go Irish). I would just like to thank him for the inspiration and the reminder to keep dreaming.

In his "Last Lecture" the late Randy Pausch addressed the importance of "Achieving Your Childhood Dreams." He said

And it was an easy time to dream. I was born in 1960. Right? When you're eight or nine years old and you look at the TV set and men are landing on the moon, anything is possible. And that's something we should not lose sight of. Is that the inspiration and the permission to dream is huge.

I worry that today is different. I wonder how easy it is for young people to dream. Whether we are seeking inspiration or an exemplar, I believe "Tiger Tuba Kent" has given us permission to keep dreaming. 

And in case you're wondering what Kent Broussard is studying when he's not at band practice—my guess is something he might have wanted study. Why stop at one dream, right?

Photo Credits
People retire
KB

From Mass to Monterey: Reflections on the 2025 Walker Cup

Friday began with Mass of the Holy Spirit and concluded with a flag raising for the 50th Walker Cup Golf championship. Needless to say, it was a very "thick" day. Fans of the writer and political/cultural commentator David Brooks might agree.

St. Ignatius College Prep is one of many Jesuit academic institutions and Catholic schools that begins the academic year with a traditional Catholic liturgy. This mass calls on the third person of the Trinity—the Holy Spirit—to lead and guide us in our studies and sports, creative endeavors and co-curriculars. With the priest dressed in a red vestment, songs like "Come Holy Spirit," and art work by students featuring a dove flying amidst tongues of fire—this faithful gathering marks the beginning of a new year. 

During his homily, Father John McGarry, SJ referred to one of my favorite Opinion pieces by Brooks, entitled "How to Leave a Mark on People." 

McGarry read from it. He said, "Some organizations are thick, and some are thin. Some leave a mark on you, and some you pass through with scarcely a memory." He added, "I haven't worked at SI for long, but it's obvious to me, this place is thick. You are wondering what that might mean." Brooks writes

A thick institution becomes part of a person's identity and engages the whole person: head, hands, heart and soul. 

Such institutions have a set of collective rituals.  They have shared tasks, which often involve members closely watching one another, the way hockey teammates have to observe everybody else on the ice. 

Such organizations often tell and retell a sacred origin story about themselves. Many experienced a moment when they nearly failed, and they celebrate the heroes who pulled them from the brink. They have a common ideal -- encapsulated, for example, in the Semper Fi motto for the Marines.

Father McGarry embellished on Brooks' works in adding, "It's also important to have an idiosyncratic local culture. Thick Institutions leave a mark on their students, and today you are being marked by the Holy Spirit."

What a powerful message, but what might that mean? Ignatius of Loyola said "go forth and set the world on fire." He believed that all we do should be done for the "greater glory of God," AMDG. His messaging resonates with all that the Mass of the Holy Spirit invokes. We are blessed to inherit such a legacy and command. It's worth passing down from one generation to the next. #SoThick.

After mass, I left San Francisco for the shores of Pebble Beach to get inside the gates of Cypress Point Golf Club. Friday consisted of a practice round and the official flag raising ceremony to commence the tourney. The guest of honor was none other than George W. Bush, the 43rd President of the United States. His great-grandfather Herbert (Bert) Walker founded the championship in 1922 as a way to foster international goodwill through golf. Yes, the W in George W. Bush stands for Walker.

The ceremony opened with a stirring U.S. military flyover, followed by a warm welcome from USGA President Mike Whan. Three national anthems were played as the Union Jack, the Irish tricolor, and the Stars and Stripes were raised.

I started to get choked upon hearing the Star Spangled Banner. I felt a wave of emotion as I watched President Bush, knowing he had devoted his life to serving the country for which both the song and the flag stand.

This moment hit me in as I was thinking ahead to this week, knowing we will watch "Nine Innings from Ground Zero."  It is an HBO documentary that explores how baseball became a unifying force for collective mourning and hope. George W. Bush makes an indelible mark in my Sports and Spirituality curriculum as he threw the first pitch inside Yankee Stadium in the 2001 World Series. The message he sent by showing up, standing tall and throwing a strike spoke volumes. It left a mark. And the beauty of that memory is that it still does today. 

At 79 years old, President Bush was attentive, personal and affable. The USGA did a great job of capturing his interaction with the players (see their social media postings!). I wanted to shake his hand and tell him about my class. I wish I could have told him how much my sister and I appreciate his art. He was swept away by friends and secret service. He is one of my heroes, and for reasons you might not expect. Please ask me about it.

His remarks were brief, but they captured what made the event so meaningful. He shared memories of his great-grandfather and reflected on the values of sport and the privilege of competition. He took time to recognize the men and women working behind the scenes—the people we might not think to thank—for making the weekend possible. Most impressively, he didn’t overemphasize his own role; he stepped aside graciously, making space for the current USGA president, Fred Prepall.

Prepall spoke of the many gifts golf offers—friendship, fitness, competition, and a love of nature. He invited the crowd to pause, saying, “Close your eyes. Take in this moment. The fact that you are standing here means you have lived a great life.” A hush fell over the audience; no one could disagree.

I stood on the fairway of one of golf’s greatest cathedrals, surrounded by beloved friends, framed by towering cypress trees. The sun was shining, and beyond us stretched the Pacific Ocean and Monterey Bay. It was a sacred moment—one that was made possible by what else? thick institutions.

Thick institutions demand something of us. I can't leave my time and experience from the Walker Cup and remain unaware or ungrateful. Though tired, I took a lot of time on Sunday preparing for school as it is an important week. 

My roommate recently asked why I work so often after school and on weekends. “What is it about teaching that asks so much of you?” she wondered. I shared a few thoughts about what the school year demands and why summer break feels so essential for renewal. Then she asked, “Well, it sounds like a lot. What’s the reward?”

Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone and showed her a photo from the weekend of a former student and his mom. “This,” I said. “It’s about the relationships.”

That relationship exists because of a “thick institution”—a community with shared history, rituals, and values that hold us together.

I told Neal I’d be showing Nine Innings from Ground Zero in class this week and asked if he remembered it. Without missing a beat, he replied, “Yes. It recalls how Bush threw the first pitch in the World Series.” Clearly, it left its mark. 

Come Holy Spirit.

Photo Credits
Thank you to my friend Malia, for always taking great photos.  #appreciated!
Cypress

From Redskins to Rushing Irish: What Do Our Mascots Say About Us?

Moving through the San Diego airport, I did a double take. I hadn’t seen that image in years — an illustration of a Native American chief, a composite that included Blackfeet chief Two Guns White Calf on a burgundy and gold jacket. The Washington NFL team retired both the logo and the “Redskins” name in 2020, replacing them with new branding. Today, they’re known as the Washington Commanders, though many—including the President—wish they weren’t. The jacket I saw looked like a relic from the ’80s: synthetic fiber, faded colors, worn seams. Still, it sparked a question I’m still turning over in my mind: Should someone still wear this logo?

Notre Dame opened the season against the Miami Hurricanes, rekindling one of college football’s great rivalries of the late ’80s and ’90s. These matchups loom large in memory, forever tied to the moniker “Catholics vs. Convicts.” First printed on a shirt sold on the ND campus, the phrase became iconic—so much so that ESPN devoted a 30 for 30 documentary to it. The Irish won that legendary game 31–30 at home, a regular-season victory that propelled them to their most recent national championship. Before this season’s game, I saw a resurgence of the green “Catholics” vs. orange “Convicts” shirts all over social media—and even on a few friends and classmates. Once again, the question surfaced: Should someone still wear it?

I decided to ask other sports fans and friends what they thought. Their answers varied widely. Loyalty runs deep, and most people don’t like being told what to do. Several expressed frustration—and fatigue—with what they called “wokeness.” More than once, I heard comments like, “We’ve taken things way too far,” and, “Let’s not get caught up in matters like this.” Others offered more nuance: “If I grew up in Cleveland and the Indians were my team, I might have a different relationship with the Chief Wahoo logo. Sports evoke memories, and that’s what I knew, what I cheered for.” A few even wrestled openly with the dilemma: “Just because I can wear it, should I?” That’s the question I keep coming back to. Because we can—does that mean we should?

My own authentic Catholics vs. Convicts t-shirt once hung in the back corner of my classroom, handsomely framed and often sparking enthusiastic remarks from students. One day, after class, a student asked me about it. I told him the story of the rivalry, my connection to the students who sold the shirt on campus, and how, against the odds, the Irish prevailed that season. He told me he had seen the 30 for 30 documentary and felt there were clear racist undertones in the slogan—which, in hindsight, there were. “I wonder how Miami fans feel about that moniker,” he said. “I’m sure some embrace it, but overall the optic isn’t good.”

I was defensive at first, rushing to defend my team and the ethos of Notre Dame athletics in my own mind. I even questioned his motive for asking about it. But later, I let his words settle. Eventually, I took the shirt down. In someone’s den or basement, with proper historical context, it might still have a place. But in my classroom, it felt different. I’ve come to believe the slogan carries racial undertones—though I know others don’t see it that way. I could wear the shirt or hang it, but I have decided not to do either. 

It’s worth noting that changing team names and logos isn’t a new or uniquely “woke” trend. Take Stanford, for example. I had always wondered how they ended up with “Cardinal”—just a color—as their name and a tree as their mascot. It turns out the student body pushed for change back in the 1970s, retiring the “Indians” name and imagery after Native American students spoke out about its harm. I find this to be a powerful testimony; history is a great teacher.

I'm going to let ChatGPT outline the movement (teachers, this is poignant example of when and how to allow students to use A.I.)

Early Mascot History: Stanford’s teams were originally known as the “Indians,” a nickname that dates back to around 1930. The name was meant to reference the school’s early use of Native American imagery, including a caricatured mascot and symbols.

Growing Awareness: By the late 1960s and early 1970s, the Civil Rights Movement and the growing voice of Native American students began to challenge stereotypical depictions and the use of Indigenous cultures as mascots.

Student Advocacy: In 1972, Stanford’s Native American students, supported by other student groups, formally petitioned the university to drop the “Indians” name and mascot. They argued that the imagery was offensive and perpetuated harmful stereotypes.

Decision to Change: In April 1972, Stanford President Richard Lyman announced that the university would retire the “Indians” name and associated imagery, citing the harm it caused to Native students and the broader Native community.

What Happened Next: After the change, Stanford’s teams were officially referred to simply as “Stanford” for several years. In 1981, they adopted the singular nickname “Cardinal” (referring to the color, not the bird). The Block “S” with a tree — a reference to El Palo Alto, the tree featured on Stanford’s seal — eventually became the primary logo.

So while Stanford’s athletic logo and mascot change happened in the 1970s (not the 1950s), it was one of the earlier examples of a major university dropping a Native American mascot out of respect for Indigenous people.

Sports team names, mascots, and logos are woven into our everyday lives; they’re deeply embedded in our culture. For many, they’re tied to identity and belonging. Raising questions about how we illustrate, name, and understand one another is not new.

These conversations often get pulled into politics, claimed by special interest groups, and can spark heated debate. Sometimes we get lost in the details—and sometimes that’s necessary. After all, how we relate to and treat each other can’t be separated from the names we use, the images we display, and the stories we tell.

The term "Redskin" is riddled with controversy. The studies around it conflicting reports and details. I appreciate what the ACLU has written. I think the Washington football team did the right thing. For those who think otherwise, let's continue the conversation.

Two minutes before the bell rang to conclude my Sports and Spirituality class, my student told me that Notre Dame changed their logo. I immediately thought "Oh wow. Did I miss the issue in question? I have read the history and origin of the Fighting Irish time and again. Is there a problem with the leprechaun?"

Turns out it's a marketing ploy. As written on the Notre Dame Athletics website, "the athletic department has released the Football Leprechaun mark that will be followed by more sport-specific marks representing each unique sport in which the Fighting Irish compete at the varsity level."

They added, "The Notre Dame Leprechaun is a secondary spirit mark of Notre Dame athletics. Its long-standing history represents the tenacious spirit of the Fighting Irish and their determination. The Leprechaun is recognized around the world today as the mascot of Notre Dame athletics dating back to its design in the early 1960s."

 Though the change did not prompt an ethical questions, it certainly got people talking. To me, it makes no sense. We are the FIGHTING Irish and I love that our moniker prompts the question "What would you fight for?" Now, all I see is the rushing Irish (Is he a running back?!). I look forward to seeing the leprechaun rowing soon.

During the Miami game, every time I saw head coach Marcus Freeman, my eyes were drawn to that new logo. Emblazoned on his shirt, it was impossible to miss. That insight reinforced my belief: logos and names send messages—whether we intend them to or not. They can invite curiosity, spark questions, and open conversations. And maybe that’s the name of the game, set, match. 

Photo Credits
Rushing Leprechaun
HCMF
Stanford Indian
Catholics vs. Convicts

Serena in the Spotlight—Wave after Wave

Some people are always making waves. It's easy to ask "What's new?" because there is always an answer. The old water cooler may be a thing of the past, but these are the people who, whether they intend to or not, end up in the spotlight—or at least in the lunchroom conversation. I’m not sure if it’s an art or a science, but certain people just have it. Celebrities especially embody this phenomenon. From Taylor Swift to Travis Kelce, Aaron Rodgers to LeBron James—and of course Serena Williams—many have built a reputation, sometimes even a single name, around staying in the spotlight. And my time on the water today, offered me an opportunity to ride, push and pull myself to and from the waves that Serena has put into the spotlight lately.

I question the authenticity of this message.

Although she said she was “evolving away from tennis” (Vogue), Serena Williams officially stepped away from the game at the 2022 U.S. Open. Fans hoped the 23-time Grand Slam champion might extend her legendary career by becoming the winningest player of the Open era. Instead, her final match ended in a hard-fought third-round loss to Ajla Tomljanović. Regardless of the result, all present were grateful to witness such a historic milestone in tennis and in sport.

In the three years since, Serena gave birth to her second daughter Adira River Ohanian. She founded Serena Ventures, invested in the growth of flag football in partnership with the NFL,and much more. Perhaps you caught her crip walking during the Super Bowl half time show. Far from slowing down, Serena continues to make her presence felt—and this week is no exception.

On August 24, 2025 Maria Sharapova was inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame. Serena speaks to what every tennis fan was thinking. 

I am probably the last person you expected to see here tonight, but honestly, a few years ago, I probably would have said the same. A few months ago, Maria texted me that she needed to talk… When I called her, she asked me if I would introduce her into the Hall of Fame, and before she even finished her question, I said, ‘Yes!’ loud, immediately, with my whole chest, because, of course, it's Maria. I was honored.

I had to watch for myself to find out how this happened. Serena said

If you're an athlete, you eventually find other athletes in the room. Because you know each other and you're on the grind year after year, Maria and I found ourselves at the same tables, at the same events, and talking to each other a little bit more. With no Grand Slam match, the next day, our guards were down, and little by little, we started to see each other differently.

She explains that it just kept growing. “One year was small talk, another year was real conversation. And then one day, it just clicked this person I spent years battling across the net like we actually like each other,” she said.

I didn't expect their story to unfold in this way. These waves were progressive. They led to an unexpected shore. 

Just three days earlier, Serena appeared on the TODAY show, while her sister Venus was only a few blocks away in Manhattan preparing for her match at the 145th U.S. Open, with her fiancé Andrea Preti cheering from the stands. Together, the Williams sisters are also launching a new podcast, Stockton Street—a tribute to the street where they grew up. I, for one, can’t wait to hear what they choose to unpack and share in those conversations.

Those waves were energizing. But, they were the calm after a storm. The reason Serena was on the TODAY show was to speak about her weight loss journey, which she attributes to the usage of GLP-1, through Ro, for which she is a paid spokesperson. I encourage you to watch for yourself. I sincerely hope this is a decision that she made in consultation with her physician.  

While she plays to the heart strings of any person who carries extra weight, I do not support or affirm her decision.

I know so many women who speak to the difficulty of losing weight after giving birth—especially those who have a children in their late 30s and 40s—like Serena. You might hear more women chime in on how much more difficult it is to drop the lbs as they approach menopause. Men and women on weight loss journey feel defeated in doing so much for little to no results. GLP-1s seem to be the most viable and reliable solution. Are they? 

I am sensitive to the fact that this obesity and being overweight has a strong impact on the body—the heart, joints and bones, and this drug offers a healthier alternative. However, I still struggle with those who take the drug to tip the scale to a number of their liking. One of my students said "it's hard for me to see the picture of her holding a needle on an advertisement for the product. That contradicts what I value in her and who she is." 

Serena said "I literally tried everything." This feeling is not uncommon. She mentioned that in spite of personal measures, the scale did not budge. Make no mistake about it— it is frustrating to "lose to this opponent" as Serena said. But I have to wonder if we are looking at it all wrong. Ought we accept ourselves for who and what we are? Yes, there's an entire industry of beauty products that want us to do otherwise, but weight is a front and center among those choices. Is weight something we must "beat?" And just because one CAN take (and afford) GLP-1s, should they?

I see and read campaigns for body positivity on regular basis. I question if people truly believe in this mindset and mentality. Athletes in particular have been tasked with serving as ombudsmen for the cause and Serena was a champion among them. She has often spoken about criticism of her muscular build, reclaiming it as a source of power and redefining what strength and beauty look like in women’s sports. Now it seems that she feels that her build was the enemy and GLP-1s are the solution. 

Truth be told, they are. Millions of people are eating less and weighing less because of these drugs. But are they healthier? For many, the side effects are debilitating; for others, the cost is simply prohibitive. While she helped bring the conversation into the open—hoping to destigmatize their use—it troubles me how quickly these drugs have become normalized. I worry about a distorted perception of fitness, one that equates health with thinness. The wealthy and those with access to the drug are thin; those who cannot—or choose not to—take it are not. Maybe that doesn’t matter to you, but it does to me. The more we obsess over outward appearance, the less attention we give to what truly lies within. Why that matters is another important question.

The issue of GLP-1s ushers in one wave after another. I've written about it before. And when my favorite female athlete became a spokesperson for the product, I had to wade through the water.

Standing in the middle of a lagoon on my paddle board, I realized I found something I once practiced regularly: exercise. no sound. I wasn't listening to a podcast or any music. The only sound I could hear was the wind and the waves. Although I had to navigate the SUP, I realized that the time on water freed me to work through what I value and what I believe. 

I have written about Serena Williams time and again in the sixteen years I have had this blog. She has been a source of inspiration for me. She is unlike no other.  She is evolving; but I am not energized by this focus or these efforts. I know more waves will come....

Photo Credits
tape measure
Ro
Body Positivity
Maria and Serena