ATTITUDE IS EVERYTHING

I grew up right next to New York's Kennedy (Idelwild) Airport just outside the City.  Like just about all the other boys in my area I played a lot of soccer from the time I was six through my junior high school years.  While everyone's parents more or less made them do it, I always liked it and took it very seriously, even more so as I got older.  Those Saturday games were a big thing for me and I went out on the field to win.  I typically played center halfback and, later, focused more on center fullback, taking great pleasure in slide-tackling opponents to prevent them from scoring goals.

At the age of ten, I got bumped up to play with a team of slightly older boys.  They were 11 and 12 and they were stronger, faster and far bigger than I was. (At the time I was small for my age to begin with).  Needless to say, I was getting my ass handed to me at practice each week.  I hadn't earned their respect and they constantly reminded me, verbally and physically, that I was the new kid and the smallest member of the team.

But, I had an amazing coach.  His name was Steve.  Steve was a dad whose son was on the team but received zero preferential treatment.  And as a coach, Steve became one of the most influential people in my life.  He taught me to play off my strengths, to laugh in the face of intimidation and to tap into my animal instincts which he said he could see clearly.  Before long, I was starting every game, mowing people down on the field and got the respect from my peers that I had wanted.  By the fourth game of the season they nicknamed me "Killer".

That's all good and heart-warming but what stuck with me through the years from all that Steve taught me back in 5th and 6th grade was something he'd preach to us about all the time.  He'd talk to us a lot at practice and before and after games.  He used to say: "Attitude is EVERYTHING.  You're attitude, when you walk onto the field and play that game is EVERYTHING.  The same way you're attitude in LIFE is everything."

Now look, when I was ten, I was precocious and I was probably a lot more sophisticated than your average American 5th grader.  But I'll tell you; I had no idea what he was talking about.  "Attitude" this and "Attitude" that.  The word itself didn't mean anything to me.  I was told that having an "Attitude" was a bad thing.  My teachers would tell me I needed an "attitude adjustment" and that I had an "attitude problem".  I did.  I was a smart ass and railed against false authority whenever I smelled it polluting my sense of proportion.

But Steve was always on about "Attitude".  All season long for two years: "...attitude..."

By my second season I started to think that maybe Steve was just hung up on this thing and was trying to keep us motivated in his own way.  I liked him a lot so I always gave him my respect and worked hard.  In the second All Star game, with Steve coaching, I went straight at a kid much larger than me.  I was a small 11-year old and the other kid was a large 14-year old.  It didn't end well.  On a high ball the kid turned to kick a goal while I was attempting to clear the ball with my head.  He ended up kicking me full blast, square in the face, knocking me unconscious.

I don't remember anyone touching me or moving me because I woke up some time later on the side line on a stretcher with cotton in my nose, blood in my mouth and on my face.  On one side of me was an EMT and on the other side of me was Steve, beaming from ear to ear.  "That's the way  to do it" he said.  "That's the way to play.  That's the attitude."

I finally got it.  "Attitude" meant bringing your heart to what you were doing.  "Attitude" meant making it personal, making it your own.  It meant not being half-ass about what you were engaged in.  It meant leaving a mark or making a statement.

As cheesy as this all sounds, I never forgot this lesson and it is part of everything I do now as an adult.

_______________________

Last year, on August 6, 2011, we lost 30 service members when a Chinook CH47 helicopter  crashed in Wardak province, Afghanistan.  This marked the single worst loss for U.S. forces in the entire war in Afghanistan. Out of the 30 killed in that crash, 17 were members of the elite Navy SEALs.  This came just a few months after the SEALs hunted down and killed Osama Bin Laden, the most wanted man in the world.

Following this tragedy, the White House sent out letters to the military families of those who perished.  William and Karen Vaughn, the parents of Navy SEAL Aaron Carson Vaughn, received a letter from President Barack Obama.  After speaking with other parents of the lost SEALs from Aaron's unit, they realized that they had been sent a form letter, the same form letter, all signed not by the President himself, but electronically.

I don't care how busy the President's schedule is or who he has working for him.  When you have the toughest, bravest, most fierce protectors of our freedom lose their lives in the line of duty, you have your staff draft up some personalized letters and you PERSONALLY sign them.

A lot of people would say this isn't a big deal.  Who cares?  They're just some letters going out to families.  The President has work to do.

But no, it's not that simple.  One can not dismiss Mr. Obama's attitude toward these men and their families.  What is his attitude toward our military and those who make the sacrifices necessary to ensure our way of life?

This speaks volumes about his attitude.  There comes a moment when a leader must humble himself and spare his precious minutes and seconds to personally tend to the grieving of the losses his nation has incurred.  Obama does not do this.  He does not pause.  He does not find the process important or meaningful.  He knew these men died and simply didn't find it prescient to sit down and quickly draft letters and sign them.

I clearly recall people mocking George W. Bush for speaking with tears in his eyes about the sacrifices our men were making in Iraq and Afghanistan on various occasions.  And I know that when you get a letter from George, he actually signs it himself.  It's not an Adobe electronic signature.  I don't care what kind of public speaker you are.  I care about the value you place on human sacrifice: your attitude toward our men and women out there with their lives on the line every day.

Consider the fact that, when rapper Heavy D passed away shortly after that helicopter crash, in November 2011, Obama sent a personal note to his family which was read by Reverend Al Sharpton at the funeral. 

Sharpton read:

“We extend our heartfelt condolences at this difficult time. He will be remembered for his infectious optimism and many contributions to American music. Please know that you and your family will be in our thoughts and prayers.

....signed Barack Obama..."

After the deadliest single loss of US forces in Afghanistan and the deaths of members from our most elite fighting unit, Barack Obama's staff sent out identical form letters to the parents that he didn't even sign.

When a second rate rapper died a few months later, Obama sent a signed personal note to the rapper's family.

Is that the heart of the man you want sitting in the Oval Office?

Is that the attitude of the person you want to call "Commander In Chief"?

I don't know about you, but for me; attitude is everything.