You Herd Me!: I'll Say It If Nobody Else Will

You Herd Me!: I'll Say It If Nobody Else Will by Colin Cowherd Read Free Book Online

Book: You Herd Me!: I'll Say It If Nobody Else Will by Colin Cowherd Read Free Book Online
Authors: Colin Cowherd
during his last few years, he was so generationally out of touch, he didn’t recognize how dangerous and inappropriate the Jerry Sandusky information was.
    Never forget, Phil Jackson was once swept out of the playoffs. The late Steve Jobs at Apple had several creations that failed. Go look up his 1988 single-button mouse, which could have doubled as a hockey puck.
    When Bill Belichick and the Patriots acquired Tim Tebow, there was immediate recognition of Belichick’s brilliance. How soon we forget his dubious acquistions of Albert Haynesworth and Chad Ochocinco and his regrettable trade of talented Richard Seymour.
    Women seem to grow out of it. Teenage girls may worship boy bands or movie stars but move past the infatuation at an earlier age. With guys, it starts early and often grows when we have the means to support it. Autographs, iPhone pictures, fantasy camps, message boards, paying thousands for a seat at a table with a 67-year-old former football star—would a woman really pay 25 grand for a dinner with Molly Ringwald in 2013?
    Man worship is at an all-time high. It’s a bull market right now. No thanks.



Hanging in the Imbalance
    Bel Air Country Club is nestled into the hills above UCLA’s campus in one of the most prestigious neighborhoods in the country, and it’s just as beautiful as it sounds.
    After a round of golf at Bel Air, it’s not uncommon to spot anyone—from a broadcasting icon to a business tycoon to a Hollywood celebrity—knocking back a few. On the night of my one and only visit, I spotted all of the above when former NBA player and coach Mike Dunleavy invited me up for a few drinks before he and his wife went to dinner elsewhere.
    The next ninety minutes were filled with giant laughs, compelling stories, and a sense of camaraderie among men who may find themselves competing against one another during the work week. These were men who put in long hours, and this impromptu 6:15 cocktail party was a break from lives filled with deadlines and pressure. No one, judging by the conversations, would be happy living his life any other way. They were competitive, hardworking guys, and nobody was about to apologize for that.
    I had put in a long week of radio shows and sales meetings. Before I sat down with Mike and entered into the group conversation, I was dragging. Within minutes, I was energized.
    It was the same energy I feel whenever I’m in a room full of athletes, coaches, or other dreaded type-A personalities who are often criticized for lacking balance, priorities, and a sense of perspective.
    These are men and women—mostly men, to be honest—who are often singularly obsessed with achievement or mission. The problem, according to too many people who lack the same drive, is that people like this lack
balance
.
    You’ve heard it:
    He’s a workaholic. His life is out of balance
.
    He’s obsessed. He needs some balance in his life
.
    Is it possible that this premise—one of our longest-held and least-questioned—is mostly one giant crock?
    If you live in my world long enough, it certainly feels that way.
    I decided to research what makes people happy, and I found that even chronically unhappy people don’t list
a balanced life
as a means of escaping from the dark tunnel of depression. Of all the things listed—independence, sex, achievement, charity work, exercise
—balance
was nowhere to be found.
    How can that be? How can such a vital and universally acknowledged key to happiness not be, in fact, a key to happiness? My barista is a poet, web designer, ski bum, and all-around radical dude—he
always
has a lively step to his mornings.
    Could it be possible that Peyton Manning, a guy who spends countless hours breaking down game film without so much as a single camping trip with his buddies or a visible recreational pursuit, may be just as happy as my barista? Or—gulp—even
more
so?
    I can only speak for guys since … well, I am one. But after forty-nine years on this planet,

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