60 Seconds

The 91st minute.

If you don't know anything about soccer, I should inform you that soccer matches are technically 90 minutes long. However there is something called "extra time" or "injury time" in which the referee adds additional time due to stoppages in play or injuries. Sometimes a minute can seem like an inconsequential blip in life; something that passes without you even knowing. Other times a minute is a lifetime or all that you need to survive. Today in South Africa, a minute was huge.

Watching the US/Algeria match brought me back to London in June of 2002. My buddy Kevin and I were at the beginning of our month long tour of Europe and I dragged him down to an Irish pub at 7 in the morning to watch Ireland/Germany in the World Cup. Germany, the heavy favorite, struck early and held a 1-0 until that pesky injury time. A long ball in, headed down by Niall Quinn to the foot of Robbie Keane and into the back of the net. Just like that the game was tied. Usually explosions involving Irishmen in London pubs are a bad thing but on that day it was great. Everything changed in a minute.

Many Americans can't understand why people like soccer but games like today and back in 2002 make me love the game. Working and working and working for 90 minutes just waiting for that chance. Sometimes you get it and it's pushed wide or the goalie gets a finger on it to deflect it away. Other times, the bounce goes your way, the ball ends up in the net and madness ensues. The U.S., much like Ireland in 2002, got what they deserved. Ireland busted it that day and got a draw which helped them advance. The US worked hard and got the goal that moved them into the last 16 and even won them their group. They boys in red, white and blue were on the verge of going home but now they're going on. Everything changed in a minute.

The U.S. got a miracle today. Now all that stands between us and the semi-finals is Ghana and Uruguay or South Korea none of which are soccer powerhouses. I don't know what's going to happen but it's anywhere near as good as today I can't wait.

Do yourself a favor and watch the game on Saturday afternoon but don't miss the extra time because sometimes a minute is all you need.

a boy and his beard

A few months into our first semester at Fordham, my buddy Mike and I decided we would grow goatees. After all, we were now grown up college MEN, not the "kids" that we had been just a short time before. We started to grow and as Mike's goatee began to fill in nicely, I came to a realization: I could grow a mean neck beard. Yeah, apparently normal facial hair wasn't in the cards for an 18 year old Frank McCaughey. At different times over the next 10 years I would grow my facial hair in but could never commit to it, probably because I was thinking back to my failed attempt years before.

After my wedding last August, I decided that I would take a break from shaving for the remainder of the summer and let the beard grow in. As the beginning of the school year closed in I had a decision to make: keep it or shave. While this may sound like a relatively simple decision, there is nothing simple about your appearance when you teach 150 6th and 7th graders (when I cut my hair short last year it caused quite a reaction from the students). If I were to keep it, it involved a 10 month commitment. After much debate I decided I would stick with it. School started, students commented (with my favorite being called "Sasquatch" by a former student)and overall I was well received....as far as I know.

Well sometimes life calls for change and after one of the worst/turbulent/maddening/saddening/every other emotion in the world weeks of my life I decided to shave my beard. Kate seems to be happy with it, saying that she "missed my face." I think she's just happy that she doesn't have to deal with my neurotic weekly beard trimmings in which I was convinced that I had messed it up. Either way, I'm happy that I kept it for the year and I'm sure 18 year old Frank is too.

Hi, my name is Ulysses, and I'm an alcoholic?

For the past week I've been caught in a shit storm at work for two incidents that are not my fault. Wait, isn't that what the guilty guy always says? Well maybe in movies but I swear, I'm an innocent man.

As I sort my way through this mess I'm brought back to a lesson I taught just today. The topic was Ulysses S. Grant and his life before and during the Civil War. Popular history paints Grant as a drunk who resigned his position from the Army in 1854 because of his drinking problem. After reading a biography of Grant, I learned that while he indeed drink from time to time, he was no drunk. His worst drinking came as a result of a difficult commanding officer who made his life a living hell and a longing for his wife and child in Galena, Illinois over 2,000 miles away from his post in the Oregon Territory. Grant resigned, moved to St. Louis where failed in business before returning to Galena to work at his father's tannery. When the South seceded, Grant returned to the Army, first as a desk worker then as the Commander of the 21st Illinois and later the savior of a fledgling Union army. Even so, Grant is still remembered in many accounts as a drunk.

Is drinking when life gets shitty a bad thing? At the end of the day Grant drank too much because his boss was an asshole and he missed his wife and kids, including a son whose birth he missed. Can't we all kind of relate to family issues and an asshole boss? I guess like everything else in life, it's all relative.