It did seem like a good idea at the time. Last May we received an email from our property manager in Mexico. Would we like to rent our condo for the months of February and March? We hemmed and hawed. We skyped our daughter once or twice a week while she taught school in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. Every weekend she traveled around the country and then regaled us with exotic tales. I convinced Sharon that after five months in Mexico we might want a change of pace and visit other countries. We could use the money we would receive from renting our condo during the most desirable and revenue producing months. We told our guy to go ahead and rent it.
As the Mexico months piled one on another, we discovered that with our commitments to the orphanage and coaching basketball we didn’t want to leave. We loved life here. Additionally, friends wanted to visit us in March. We told our property manager that we didn’t want to rent it. He said that he could easily find another location for March, but that February would prove to be significantly more difficult.
We traveled around town looking for a month rental. We pondered a variety of options. Eventually, we rented a condo one floor above us for two weeks. We also turned in two weeks of tradable time shares for using two dated resorts in the Golden Zone or what the Mexicans call Zona Dorado. This section of Mazatlan stretches seven miles. Mostly timeshare resorts built during the 70’s grace the beach side. A series of small businesses, restaurants, pharmacies, and gift shops line the street opposite the resorts. No postcards that beautify Mazatlan are snapped in the Zona Dorado.
We have stayed in plenty resort hotels in Mexico over the years. We invariably arrived in late March for spring break. Weary of school, the wet weather, cloudy skies, and all the tedium of our indoor routines, we would arrive ready to celebrate warm weather, late nights, and good times. And celebrate we do well.
Our mind set for this particular visit paled by comparison. We had just spent five months in a new condo with all of our things. We loved our routine, our new friends, our commitments, and our home. We drove into Pueblo Bonita’s resort hotel and found easy parking. We informed the registration table that we owned a place in Mazatlan which served the purpose of warding off the resort’s timeshare requests. This did not ward off the barrage of hits you receive outside of the hotel. When a gringo walks out of a timeshare resort, he is fair game for solicitation of timeshare presentations, deep sea fishing opportunities, travel van excursions, and pulmonia rides in search of your desires. If you don’t have one, they can make one up for you. “No gracias, senor.” I repeated dozens of times as politely as my long strides away would allow.
Both of the resorts had similar settings. They had two pools. One has the activities like water volleyball and basketball, water aerobics, bingo, card games, etc. The other pool serves as a quieter place for sunbathers. Many visitors preferred the lounges on the beach. Now the beach side has its fair share of vendors who push the activities of the ocean: para sailing, sailboat rides, kayaking, and . Once you step away from the resort’s sanctioned beach you are also inundated with fruit vendors, trinkets galore, apparel of all Mexican varieties, and my least favorite look, the Bo Derek beaded hair. Why women think they could possibly look attractive with this look baffles me. Drawing the hair away from faces that need to be concealed doesn’t work unless you are a ”10”.
Our first night at Pueblo Bonita we ate at their restaurant. We had eaten their previously with friends who have a timeshare at their sister resort, the spectacular Emerald Bay property. We hated the meal and mostly the prices. These places are designed to milk tourists who are there for one week of mayhem. We yearned for our palapa, our friends, and Jaime. So we visited often. Sharon would play tennis and then we would come back for a happy hour occasionally. Each time we had to field questions as to why we were doing what we were doing. Oy Vay.
* * *
During these two weeks we did find some interesting experiences. Over the months at Paraiso I noticed a younger couple who spent a week during November, December, January and now February. They always traveled with friends. Due to their relationship with Jaime, I knew that they were owners and not renters, but they maintained a self contained society at a location that I would soon learn Jaime had christened “Ricardo’s Café”. This couple didn’t interact with the usual suspects that grace the palapa. They chose to sit at the nearest cushioned lounge that hugs the wall overlooking the pool. I don’t know exactly why none of the usual suspects ever approached them. Perhaps, Richard’s (Jaime christened him Ricardo while he’s in Mexico) tats scared the Q Tip set off. Perhaps, Becky’s (Ricardo’s wife) beauty intimidated the women and the husbands in the presence of their wives off. Perhaps, no one wished to disturb the obvious tranquility they share with their friends. The curtains of Ricardo’s Café opened for Sharon and me in a most pathetic way.
Becky wandered into the palapa where Jaime greeted her with all of the enthusiasm that he musters for beautiful women. Becky had Jaime’s rapt attention and a smile to boot. One of our distinguished suspects fueled by copious alcohol, the absence of a wife, and a lecherous nature put on a disgusting display that lavished attention on a woman in need of none. As he railed on and on over her beauty and where she had been all of his life and how her posture needed to be softened and how his ability to read body language might impress her while he batted his eye lashes. Becky looked on with cautious amusement. She did not uncross her arms until Ricardo walked up. She introduced her husband. Then Ricardo received a lecture on his body language. No one laughed. More surprisingly, no one puked.
The next night Sharon and I managed to feel comfortable enough to walk into Ricardo’s Café, and we apologized for an unusual suspect’s behavior the previous evening. During the course of the next couple of evenings we learned more and more about them. I am married to White Oprah after all. I learned several things about them: they aren’t as young as they appear to be and have been married 33 years and have a 30 year old daughter and 3 grand daughters, they have great friends, they like to laugh, and they let their drunken friend slaughter me in tennis. I would later learn that he played me after he drank all afternoon. Not good for my ego.
The absolute highlight of our two weeks though occurred when Ricardo and Becky drove the two couples who traveled with them from Idaho to the airport. Shari and Theresa chose not to join their husbands for the return trip home. They wanted to stay for a few more days. They kissed their mates and sent them home to the kids. Who does that!!!!!! Now Ricardo’s Café started to rock. Ricardo and his harem would rise in the morning, go for a run. Stop at a bar part way and suck down some Bloody Mary’s and then hit the palapa for more. Sharon and I loved their enthusiasm and laughter, but maybe not as much as Patrick enjoyed his tattoo hunt. They provided us a great antidote to our blues away from home.
The night we returned home after a month away from our own beds, we made several grocery runs, packed our things away, and did laundry. Unknown to us we missed our own party as the usual suspects brought snacks to share and the following sign:
Welcome Back Sharon and Bruce
You thought it would be a good idea.
Well, the drinks are on the house. Just tell Jaime your room number.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Build It They Will Come part one
When I lived in Newport Beach, California after being discharged from the Marine Corps, friends visited. When I attended college in San Francisco, friends visited. When Sharon and I taught school in Park City, Utah, friends visited. When we reared our children in Corvallis, Oregon, friends telephoned, emailed, but stayed home, so we visited them. Retiring in Mazatlan figured to transport us to those days when we could show off a city we loved to live in. Corvallis came to Mexico the past couple of weeks, and we loved sharing it with our friends.
Mike Green, his two younger sisters and his wife Ali arrived on a cruise ship a couple of weeks ago on a Wednesday. Mike played on my varsity basketball team all four years of his high school career. We experienced some tumultuous moments during those years, but we maintained a close relationship as evident in an article that I will post at the conclusion of this piece that ironically appeared the day before he arrived. Not only do we know Mike well, but we also know his wife well. Ali grew up next door from age three to this day. Mike and Ali live with Ali’s parent as I write this. So when they emailed us to let us know that they would spend six or seven hours in our adopted city, I scratched my head as to what to do with four folks almost forty years younger than I. If nothing else, they would love the beach, the sun, and a pina colada. Right?
Tourists love Mazatlan in February as they tire of the rain, wind, and snow north of the border. As I met my four twenty somethings dressed for the beach and sun, the skies opened up and drenched my poor guests before I could escort them to my car parked blocks away due to all of the touring vans, pulmonias, and taxis waiting to scoop up cruisers for the day. When five thousand people disembark, it’s big business here. Today two cities dressed as ships had arrived.
I drove through town towards our condo and pointed out the sights as I barely kept ahead of the storm that headed north …. as in our way. We eventually pulled into our room at Pueblo Bonita and chatted as the roads flooded. After three hours the deluge trickled and we wandered around the beach, hit the hot tub, had a couple of drinks, and headed downtown. I had a basketball practice, and I really wanted to use Mike’s incredible abilities to demonstrate a variety of skills that this 60 something can’t do so well.
As the girls shopped, Mike and I dropped by the school to discover the court drenched. We then wandered through the city. We made our way to Te Amos Lucy, an excellent Mexican restaurant that locals recently voted as one of the three best restaurants in the city. The girls met us there. The rain wasn’t the only glitch to the day. Ali ordered an item off the menu. Frankly, this irked me because when Mike asked us to take him to an authentic Mexican restaurant, everyone should have taken my word that this restaurant rocks. So she asked for a burrito with meat and cheese, but not melted and lettuce. The waiter patiently asked, “like Baja Fresh?” Mexicans make small tortillas. They don’t supersize them. After wading through Ali’s frustrations with her order, the attention it achieved, and snide asides from her husband, she started to cry. Enter White Oprah. She whisked Ali off to an interior courtyard with two beers in tow and worked her magic.
Alls well that ends well. The meal pleased all. Yes, even Ali. We dropped our first Corvallis visitors of the year off at their ship which we watched sail away into the night from our palapa with happy hour drinks in hand.
* * *
Mike Green, who was a standout basketball player for Crescent Valley High from 1999-2003, has found coaching is both fun and difficult since returning to his alma mater as a volunteer coach.(Andy Cripe Gazette-Times)
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Mike Green had no idea what was in store when he walked into the Crescent Valley High gym for the first day of basketball practice in 1999.
Like most children who grow up playing basketball, Green dreamed of playing at a Division I university after a standout high school career.
As cocky as he appeared on the court - how can you blame a guy for being confident when he could seemingly hit a big 3-pointer anytime his team needed it - he was anything but in those first few weeks as a freshman.
"I remember coming in first day of school (with) big eyes and (being) nervous walking down the hall," Green recalled last week.
"My goal was always to play college basketball. I didn't know if I could do that until after the first couple practices. I didn't know how good I could be."
Green turned out to be a pretty darn good player for the Raiders. He was deadly from long range, and had the rap for being pretty brash in his actions. It was like he was invincible on the court, and let that emotion get the best of him at times.
He may never forget the two technical fouls he received in a win at Corvallis his senior season and having to sit out the following game against McNary. The Raiders lost and failed to win the Valley League title and automatic berth to the state tournament.
To this day, Green swears the Raiders would have won that game had he played.
If that was the worst memory for Green, his story wouldn't hold the impact that it does, and who knows where he would be today.
The choices and decisions high school students make usually have an impact in shaping them as they get older.
Green is no different, but his story isn't like most.
His struggles with alcohol and marijuana were well documented in a story in Dec. 6, 2002 edition of the Gazette-Times.
It's not a topic Green readily discusses.
"It's there, it happened, I've tried to move on and not think about it," he says today.
His story could have ended with a great talent being wasted by getting wasted. Instead, Green has persevered, accepted his poor choices and moved on.
Poor choices
It began innocently enough when Mike gave in to a friend's constant pressuring and drank his first beer during his freshman year.
What transpired over the next few months led Green down a path that would change his life forever.
Late in his freshman year, Green admitted to drinking after being pressured by his parents. He remained sober for 18 months.
Green excelled on the basketball court. He became known for his 3-point shooting and helping the Raiders to the top of the Valley League standings.
As a junior, he poured in 46 points in a playoff loss at home to Beaverton.
That summer, Green verbally committed to play basketball at University of Portland.
His dream had come true.
How could anything go wrong now?
Three months after that playoff loss, Green got into a argument with his parents over attending a party. He left home and moved in with a family friend. He would later change his address to Bruce Reid's, his coach and a close friend of the Greens.
"In a perverse sort of way, when Portland made an oral commitment to Mike, that was the pinnacle of what his pursuits were, which was to be a Division I basketball player," Reid said back in 2002. "Somehow, he became vulnerable all over again."
For weeks, friends tried to help reunite Green with his family and convince him to move back home. He did for a few weeks, but then left again when his parents said they couldn't live with someone who had a drug habit.
"I was pretty stubborn about not wanting to live by my parents' rules," Green said back then. "I didn't want to be worried about getting caught doing what I was doing. I got too full of myself. I thought I was untouchable."
He eventually entered the YES (Youth Entering Sobriety) House at Oregon State University. He expected to stay 30 days, but left after 58 - on Oct. 30, 2002, just in time for basketball.
He played his senior season and helped the Raiders get back to the playoffs where they lost a tough 56-53 decision at Southridge.
It was a hard way to end his high school career, coming up short yet again in his quest to get the Raiders to the tournament.
Later that spring, Portland pulled its scholarship offer.
"I wanted to play D1 basketball," Green said. "I knew I could play it. I knew I was talented enough, and I'm not going to lie, I was devastated when it happened. That had been a goal of mine since third or fourth grade.
"That's everything I had ever worked for and it was being taken away because of a decision I made. It was hard for a while and it's still hard, actually. It's still very hard when I think about it."
Following Alison
Mike met Alison Popoff in a PE class when they were freshmen at CV. They began to hang out off and on with mutual friends.
Junior year they became closer and eventually dated throughout senior year.
After they graduated, Alison was going to attend Cal Poly, so Green decided to follow her to California.
Why not?
"When I realized I wasn't going to go to Portland, I was looking at a JC," Green said. "She was going to Cal Poly, ‘Oh, that works out nice, there's a junior college there. I'll go there and play.' "
Green had a solid freshman season at Cuesta Junior College, but hurt his shoulder in the offseason and had to have surgery.
He sat out the next season and signed to play at UC Irvine, a Division I program.
He had reached his dream a second time.
However, his shoulder injury was still bothersome and he didn't get the kind of playing time he wanted.
So after just one season, he decided to transfer and headed to Hawaii to play for Division II Chaminade.
He spent his final two years of eligibility playing for the Silverswords, then focused on completing his degree in Business Administration.
Going to Hawaii meant leaving Alison in California, but she joined Mike in Hawaii after graduating from Cal Poly. They were married July 12, 2008.
"She's amazing and I wouldn't want to be with anyone else," Mike said. "She's definitely very supportive. She has changed my life."
It may not have been the road Green thought he would travel, but in the end, he accomplished his goal - to play basketball and graduate without a lot of debt.
"All the places were great, I enjoyed all of them," he said. "I really wouldn't have changed it. I liked wherever I was."
As much as he convinces himself of that statement - no matter how true it might be - there are still those moments when he thinks about what he may have lost.
"In high school I was getting letters from tons and tons of D1 schools," Green said. "I was fully expecting to do that. But it didn't work out. ... I matured a lot from it. I just kind of looked at life a little bit differently.
"It was a good thing, but there still are, there's always going to be, what ifs. But I try not to look at that because I think I had a positive experience everywhere I was at.
"It all happened for a reason."
A new chapter
Less than 10 years after walking into Raider Gym for the first time for basketball tryouts, Green made a similar journey last June.
After graduating from Chaminade in May, he and Alison were back in Corvallis for the summer and Green talked with CV coach Mike Stair about helping coach the summer league team.
When Alison decided to attend Western Oregon to work on her Masters, Green met with Stair about helping out during the high school season.
Stair was game and Green joined the staff as a volunteer coach.
He's had a good time.
"It's been fun because high school basketball, I mean as much fun as I had in college, high school basketball is the best experience I've had playing basketball," Green said.
"Coming back and helping out has pretty much put me back in that setting. A lot of pretty good memories, some bad, but most good."
It has certainly been a learning, and eye-opening, experience.
"It's a lot harder than I thought," Green admits. "Being a player, for me, I always just would go out on the court and handle it.
"Being a coach, its a completely different element. It's similar in some ways but it's completely different because you have to figure out ways to motivate players to try to do things you want them to do based on your experience and how you think they're going to win.
"With high school kids that's a challenge."
If anyone knows what it's like to be a challenge it's Green. Maybe now he understands how Reid and others felt when they had to deal with him as a player.
"I was a big challenge and Bruce and a lot of other people will definitely attest to that," Green said with a laugh.
In the past
Brian Green, Mike's dad, still has a weathered copy of the Dec. 6, 2002, edition of the Gazette-Times in his office at Dallas High where he is an assistant principal.
It serves as a reminder of how quickly life can change, and can be a teaching tool.
"(At times) I have to cross paths with kids in the same scenario," Brian Green said. "If I am inspired to do so, I will crack out the story. It's amazing still the impact it has on kids. I will share that same hope with parents."
It has also taught the elder Green a lot about life, and how he values all of his children.
"The biggest thing for me to glean from this is to understand true unconditional love," he said. "I realize I love my kids and Mike for who he was, not what he did. We have a good, strong relationship now."
Of all the accomplishments over the past six years, Brian knows the most important one.
"By far it has been his ability to conquer his demons and challenges in life," he said.
It has been a long road and Mike Green admits he couldn't have done it without the support he received, especially his parents, wife and Reid.
"They mean everything to me," Green said. "My family was always supportive. Alison and her family. And Bruce, he's pretty much like a second dad to me. I think the world of him."
Reid is living in Mazatlan these days, and the former player and coach will spend Wednesday together. Green is on a cruise with his grandparents and siblings this week.
Life is good these days. Green has a tough time believing its been 10 years since he began this journey.
"You're just young and dumb and sometimes you don't think things through," he says now about his choices in high school. "But I think everything that happened in high school, everything that's happened in my life, there have been steps taking me to where I'm at now.
"I think that I'm in a really good place right now. I think I have a good grasp on life and I'm comfortable with who I am and I'm just enjoying it right now."
Mike Green, his two younger sisters and his wife Ali arrived on a cruise ship a couple of weeks ago on a Wednesday. Mike played on my varsity basketball team all four years of his high school career. We experienced some tumultuous moments during those years, but we maintained a close relationship as evident in an article that I will post at the conclusion of this piece that ironically appeared the day before he arrived. Not only do we know Mike well, but we also know his wife well. Ali grew up next door from age three to this day. Mike and Ali live with Ali’s parent as I write this. So when they emailed us to let us know that they would spend six or seven hours in our adopted city, I scratched my head as to what to do with four folks almost forty years younger than I. If nothing else, they would love the beach, the sun, and a pina colada. Right?
Tourists love Mazatlan in February as they tire of the rain, wind, and snow north of the border. As I met my four twenty somethings dressed for the beach and sun, the skies opened up and drenched my poor guests before I could escort them to my car parked blocks away due to all of the touring vans, pulmonias, and taxis waiting to scoop up cruisers for the day. When five thousand people disembark, it’s big business here. Today two cities dressed as ships had arrived.
I drove through town towards our condo and pointed out the sights as I barely kept ahead of the storm that headed north …. as in our way. We eventually pulled into our room at Pueblo Bonita and chatted as the roads flooded. After three hours the deluge trickled and we wandered around the beach, hit the hot tub, had a couple of drinks, and headed downtown. I had a basketball practice, and I really wanted to use Mike’s incredible abilities to demonstrate a variety of skills that this 60 something can’t do so well.
As the girls shopped, Mike and I dropped by the school to discover the court drenched. We then wandered through the city. We made our way to Te Amos Lucy, an excellent Mexican restaurant that locals recently voted as one of the three best restaurants in the city. The girls met us there. The rain wasn’t the only glitch to the day. Ali ordered an item off the menu. Frankly, this irked me because when Mike asked us to take him to an authentic Mexican restaurant, everyone should have taken my word that this restaurant rocks. So she asked for a burrito with meat and cheese, but not melted and lettuce. The waiter patiently asked, “like Baja Fresh?” Mexicans make small tortillas. They don’t supersize them. After wading through Ali’s frustrations with her order, the attention it achieved, and snide asides from her husband, she started to cry. Enter White Oprah. She whisked Ali off to an interior courtyard with two beers in tow and worked her magic.
Alls well that ends well. The meal pleased all. Yes, even Ali. We dropped our first Corvallis visitors of the year off at their ship which we watched sail away into the night from our palapa with happy hour drinks in hand.
* * *
Mike Green, who was a standout basketball player for Crescent Valley High from 1999-2003, has found coaching is both fun and difficult since returning to his alma mater as a volunteer coach.(Andy Cripe Gazette-Times)
Loading…
Mike Green had no idea what was in store when he walked into the Crescent Valley High gym for the first day of basketball practice in 1999.
Like most children who grow up playing basketball, Green dreamed of playing at a Division I university after a standout high school career.
As cocky as he appeared on the court - how can you blame a guy for being confident when he could seemingly hit a big 3-pointer anytime his team needed it - he was anything but in those first few weeks as a freshman.
"I remember coming in first day of school (with) big eyes and (being) nervous walking down the hall," Green recalled last week.
"My goal was always to play college basketball. I didn't know if I could do that until after the first couple practices. I didn't know how good I could be."
Green turned out to be a pretty darn good player for the Raiders. He was deadly from long range, and had the rap for being pretty brash in his actions. It was like he was invincible on the court, and let that emotion get the best of him at times.
He may never forget the two technical fouls he received in a win at Corvallis his senior season and having to sit out the following game against McNary. The Raiders lost and failed to win the Valley League title and automatic berth to the state tournament.
To this day, Green swears the Raiders would have won that game had he played.
If that was the worst memory for Green, his story wouldn't hold the impact that it does, and who knows where he would be today.
The choices and decisions high school students make usually have an impact in shaping them as they get older.
Green is no different, but his story isn't like most.
His struggles with alcohol and marijuana were well documented in a story in Dec. 6, 2002 edition of the Gazette-Times.
It's not a topic Green readily discusses.
"It's there, it happened, I've tried to move on and not think about it," he says today.
His story could have ended with a great talent being wasted by getting wasted. Instead, Green has persevered, accepted his poor choices and moved on.
Poor choices
It began innocently enough when Mike gave in to a friend's constant pressuring and drank his first beer during his freshman year.
What transpired over the next few months led Green down a path that would change his life forever.
Late in his freshman year, Green admitted to drinking after being pressured by his parents. He remained sober for 18 months.
Green excelled on the basketball court. He became known for his 3-point shooting and helping the Raiders to the top of the Valley League standings.
As a junior, he poured in 46 points in a playoff loss at home to Beaverton.
That summer, Green verbally committed to play basketball at University of Portland.
His dream had come true.
How could anything go wrong now?
Three months after that playoff loss, Green got into a argument with his parents over attending a party. He left home and moved in with a family friend. He would later change his address to Bruce Reid's, his coach and a close friend of the Greens.
"In a perverse sort of way, when Portland made an oral commitment to Mike, that was the pinnacle of what his pursuits were, which was to be a Division I basketball player," Reid said back in 2002. "Somehow, he became vulnerable all over again."
For weeks, friends tried to help reunite Green with his family and convince him to move back home. He did for a few weeks, but then left again when his parents said they couldn't live with someone who had a drug habit.
"I was pretty stubborn about not wanting to live by my parents' rules," Green said back then. "I didn't want to be worried about getting caught doing what I was doing. I got too full of myself. I thought I was untouchable."
He eventually entered the YES (Youth Entering Sobriety) House at Oregon State University. He expected to stay 30 days, but left after 58 - on Oct. 30, 2002, just in time for basketball.
He played his senior season and helped the Raiders get back to the playoffs where they lost a tough 56-53 decision at Southridge.
It was a hard way to end his high school career, coming up short yet again in his quest to get the Raiders to the tournament.
Later that spring, Portland pulled its scholarship offer.
"I wanted to play D1 basketball," Green said. "I knew I could play it. I knew I was talented enough, and I'm not going to lie, I was devastated when it happened. That had been a goal of mine since third or fourth grade.
"That's everything I had ever worked for and it was being taken away because of a decision I made. It was hard for a while and it's still hard, actually. It's still very hard when I think about it."
Following Alison
Mike met Alison Popoff in a PE class when they were freshmen at CV. They began to hang out off and on with mutual friends.
Junior year they became closer and eventually dated throughout senior year.
After they graduated, Alison was going to attend Cal Poly, so Green decided to follow her to California.
Why not?
"When I realized I wasn't going to go to Portland, I was looking at a JC," Green said. "She was going to Cal Poly, ‘Oh, that works out nice, there's a junior college there. I'll go there and play.' "
Green had a solid freshman season at Cuesta Junior College, but hurt his shoulder in the offseason and had to have surgery.
He sat out the next season and signed to play at UC Irvine, a Division I program.
He had reached his dream a second time.
However, his shoulder injury was still bothersome and he didn't get the kind of playing time he wanted.
So after just one season, he decided to transfer and headed to Hawaii to play for Division II Chaminade.
He spent his final two years of eligibility playing for the Silverswords, then focused on completing his degree in Business Administration.
Going to Hawaii meant leaving Alison in California, but she joined Mike in Hawaii after graduating from Cal Poly. They were married July 12, 2008.
"She's amazing and I wouldn't want to be with anyone else," Mike said. "She's definitely very supportive. She has changed my life."
It may not have been the road Green thought he would travel, but in the end, he accomplished his goal - to play basketball and graduate without a lot of debt.
"All the places were great, I enjoyed all of them," he said. "I really wouldn't have changed it. I liked wherever I was."
As much as he convinces himself of that statement - no matter how true it might be - there are still those moments when he thinks about what he may have lost.
"In high school I was getting letters from tons and tons of D1 schools," Green said. "I was fully expecting to do that. But it didn't work out. ... I matured a lot from it. I just kind of looked at life a little bit differently.
"It was a good thing, but there still are, there's always going to be, what ifs. But I try not to look at that because I think I had a positive experience everywhere I was at.
"It all happened for a reason."
A new chapter
Less than 10 years after walking into Raider Gym for the first time for basketball tryouts, Green made a similar journey last June.
After graduating from Chaminade in May, he and Alison were back in Corvallis for the summer and Green talked with CV coach Mike Stair about helping coach the summer league team.
When Alison decided to attend Western Oregon to work on her Masters, Green met with Stair about helping out during the high school season.
Stair was game and Green joined the staff as a volunteer coach.
He's had a good time.
"It's been fun because high school basketball, I mean as much fun as I had in college, high school basketball is the best experience I've had playing basketball," Green said.
"Coming back and helping out has pretty much put me back in that setting. A lot of pretty good memories, some bad, but most good."
It has certainly been a learning, and eye-opening, experience.
"It's a lot harder than I thought," Green admits. "Being a player, for me, I always just would go out on the court and handle it.
"Being a coach, its a completely different element. It's similar in some ways but it's completely different because you have to figure out ways to motivate players to try to do things you want them to do based on your experience and how you think they're going to win.
"With high school kids that's a challenge."
If anyone knows what it's like to be a challenge it's Green. Maybe now he understands how Reid and others felt when they had to deal with him as a player.
"I was a big challenge and Bruce and a lot of other people will definitely attest to that," Green said with a laugh.
In the past
Brian Green, Mike's dad, still has a weathered copy of the Dec. 6, 2002, edition of the Gazette-Times in his office at Dallas High where he is an assistant principal.
It serves as a reminder of how quickly life can change, and can be a teaching tool.
"(At times) I have to cross paths with kids in the same scenario," Brian Green said. "If I am inspired to do so, I will crack out the story. It's amazing still the impact it has on kids. I will share that same hope with parents."
It has also taught the elder Green a lot about life, and how he values all of his children.
"The biggest thing for me to glean from this is to understand true unconditional love," he said. "I realize I love my kids and Mike for who he was, not what he did. We have a good, strong relationship now."
Of all the accomplishments over the past six years, Brian knows the most important one.
"By far it has been his ability to conquer his demons and challenges in life," he said.
It has been a long road and Mike Green admits he couldn't have done it without the support he received, especially his parents, wife and Reid.
"They mean everything to me," Green said. "My family was always supportive. Alison and her family. And Bruce, he's pretty much like a second dad to me. I think the world of him."
Reid is living in Mazatlan these days, and the former player and coach will spend Wednesday together. Green is on a cruise with his grandparents and siblings this week.
Life is good these days. Green has a tough time believing its been 10 years since he began this journey.
"You're just young and dumb and sometimes you don't think things through," he says now about his choices in high school. "But I think everything that happened in high school, everything that's happened in my life, there have been steps taking me to where I'm at now.
"I think that I'm in a really good place right now. I think I have a good grasp on life and I'm comfortable with who I am and I'm just enjoying it right now."
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Carnaval
You can’t visit Mazatlan for a week not to learn that their Mardi Gras celebration is one of the biggest in the world. Everyone knows about Rio de Janiero and New Orleans, but Mazatlan takes a great deal of pride in its Carnaval. The set up for it takes place weeks in advance as most businesses that cater to the tourist industry near where the celebrations occur start painting and cleaning up their public persona. Then the electrical Carnaval masks that hang from every other light post that divides the center lanes on the thoroughfares from the Zona Dorada (7 mile stretch) to the end of the Malecon (6 mile stretch) begin to light the night. These masks are colorful and add charm to a city that likes a fiesta.
The festivities begin on the Thursday night prior to Lent. Each night the last mile of the Malecon becomes a street dance. Restrooms have been built…not portapotties, but full on enclosed walk in restrooms with Pacifico cerveza signs that acknowledge the sponsor of every aspect of the Carnaval festivities. Three large stages for the musicians divide the mile long celebration. Too many tents to count provide locations to purchase your favorite Pacifico libation. That would be not only Pacifico, but Pacifico light, Modelo and Modelo light. Pacifico brewing company rules this week.
My lack of enthusiasm for attending any of the street dances concerned three issues: the lateness of the experience, the stories about opportunistic thieves, and the frightening rumor that spread quickly through town. The dances began after 9 and lasted all night. The reputation that swirled around town for months of the influx of dubious characters waiting to take advantage of inebriated celebrants also worried me. Lastly, the rumor that I heard from a friend who works with many locals also deterred my desire to pursue a late evening. The rumor, fortunately unfounded, picked up steam throughout the week. The police presence throughout all parts of the city gave it more credence.
A well trained narcotics gang called the Sevens had buried machine guns and police uniforms in the sand at a location close to the Malecon. This gang’s elite terrorists had been trained by the Israeli special forces and would one night wander through the streets during the celebrations to bring headlines to its cause. Typical issues dealing with tons of people and drunkenness were the only police issues of the week. I found it difficult to dismiss the rumor, so I stayed away from the street dances. This, fortunately, did not prevent me from enjoying Carnaval 2010.
The coronation of a king opened the celebrations on Thursday night. The city charged no admission. The king is invariably a local, young musician. Last year a five member male band won. On Friday night at the baseball stadium, the largest venue in Mazatlan, hosted the coronation of the queen. This was not free. Sharon and I attended with 25,000 others. I knew I was in for an interesting evening when I waited in line to have my ticket punched. The only worse ratio of women to men that I have encountered at a paid function was a presentation of Shirley Valentine. The first time I had watched the movie of Shirley Valentine I had to rewind so many scenes to try to understand what the woman was trying to say. I can’t understand how come the British can’t speak better English. All British movies should include subtitles. The Australian actress who portrayed Shirley in the play couldn’t speak any better. I had no rewind button to push, but I did know the story.
If I thought Shirley Valentine was difficult to comprehend, try attending a Mexican queen coronation that drew two huge Mexican singing sensations who bantered throughout the evening to the delight of everyone but the gringos. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Mexican women love to dress up. I adore watching young mothers pose for their husbands while on vacation. They learn the pose and the look early. I watched a mother working her six year old daughter to look at her daddy’s camera with a sultry pose. If you bring out a camera in front of a group of Mexican women, the pose pops out automatically. While waiting for Sharon finishing up at a beauty salon in a mall the other day, I looked at a photo display of women on a photo shop window. The only place that I could think of in the States that would have shown some of the more provocative photos would have been on Bourbon Street in New Orleans. The ones of the eight month plus pregnant mothers blew me away. If you don’t think pregnant women can look sexy, go to Gran Plaza Mall. Holy Friole.
Now you get a bit of an understanding why the men’s coronation is free and the women’s costs money. The ballet dancers, the elaborate flower numbers reminded me of Beach Blanket Bingo in San Francisco, but the headdresses there are a spoof of performances like I watched. The sets were garish to an extreme, but the fireworks were dazzling.
I knew that the most famous Mexican songwriter would perform. I assumed that the young female star would perform afterwards, but it didn’t happen that way. The two sang duets…..an old 5’1” guy matched up with a 6’ stunningly graceful and attractive woman. The singing I liked. The Mexicans preferred the bantering that took up much more of the performance. I understood none of it. The next day I listened to a story about our Condo association president who makes a joke out of everything he hears. His wife related that every time the audience broke into any degree of laughter that Rich laughed louder and longer. He, of course, understood not a word of it. Who does that?
Saturday night a group of fifteen friends from Paraiso rented our favorite 51 foot sailboat. We loaded it up with copious amounts of food and alcohol for a seven hour evening. We boarded to catch a sunset. Then we sailed towards Olas Altas, where the oldest section of the beach of Mazatlan begins. In 1863 a battle between the French ships off the city’s coast line fired on Mazatlan. The fireworks that took place this evening captured a reenactment of this battle that the Mexicans won. The entire year 2010 is a focus on national pride as it’s the 200 year anniversary of its independence from Spain. This battle reenactment is just one of Mexico’s successes that will dot this year’s calendar. Besides its historical significance, the fireworks compared favorably to the best I have seen. The most spectacular though occurred in Paris on Bastille Day four years ago where large speakers played music that accompanied the fireworks on the parade area in front of the Eiffel Tower. It was like watching Fantasia live with 300,000 of my closest French friends.
Sunday late afternoon, the infamous parade rode down the Malecon. Again the theme focused on Mexican patriotism. The floats carried princesses galore, but the floats themselves all reflected Mexico’s history. Bands marched and played. People lined the streets for hours beforehand, and they partied early and long into the evening. Costumes and horses and heroes and swirling colorful dresses and monstrous floats flew by one after another. The spectators loved it. They cheered and sang patriotic songs and shared their enthusiasm with everyone in their midst. A newly renovated bar sat at our back which provided not only refreshments but also los banos. We bought extra beers for celebrants who surrounded us and befriended us. Ahhhh the power of cervezas!!!!! We talked to so many people who had come from all over Mexico to enjoy this wild fiesta. They came every year. Since I bought one gentleman beers, he wanted me to share his evening in the pursuit of wild women. He flashed his condoms and told me that we could find muy bonita muchachas. Nunez caught his leering eye, shook her finger at him in the universal no directions, and said, “El esta mi esposa”; as she next pointed to her wedding band. My friend apologized and disappeared.
The festivities begin on the Thursday night prior to Lent. Each night the last mile of the Malecon becomes a street dance. Restrooms have been built…not portapotties, but full on enclosed walk in restrooms with Pacifico cerveza signs that acknowledge the sponsor of every aspect of the Carnaval festivities. Three large stages for the musicians divide the mile long celebration. Too many tents to count provide locations to purchase your favorite Pacifico libation. That would be not only Pacifico, but Pacifico light, Modelo and Modelo light. Pacifico brewing company rules this week.
My lack of enthusiasm for attending any of the street dances concerned three issues: the lateness of the experience, the stories about opportunistic thieves, and the frightening rumor that spread quickly through town. The dances began after 9 and lasted all night. The reputation that swirled around town for months of the influx of dubious characters waiting to take advantage of inebriated celebrants also worried me. Lastly, the rumor that I heard from a friend who works with many locals also deterred my desire to pursue a late evening. The rumor, fortunately unfounded, picked up steam throughout the week. The police presence throughout all parts of the city gave it more credence.
A well trained narcotics gang called the Sevens had buried machine guns and police uniforms in the sand at a location close to the Malecon. This gang’s elite terrorists had been trained by the Israeli special forces and would one night wander through the streets during the celebrations to bring headlines to its cause. Typical issues dealing with tons of people and drunkenness were the only police issues of the week. I found it difficult to dismiss the rumor, so I stayed away from the street dances. This, fortunately, did not prevent me from enjoying Carnaval 2010.
The coronation of a king opened the celebrations on Thursday night. The city charged no admission. The king is invariably a local, young musician. Last year a five member male band won. On Friday night at the baseball stadium, the largest venue in Mazatlan, hosted the coronation of the queen. This was not free. Sharon and I attended with 25,000 others. I knew I was in for an interesting evening when I waited in line to have my ticket punched. The only worse ratio of women to men that I have encountered at a paid function was a presentation of Shirley Valentine. The first time I had watched the movie of Shirley Valentine I had to rewind so many scenes to try to understand what the woman was trying to say. I can’t understand how come the British can’t speak better English. All British movies should include subtitles. The Australian actress who portrayed Shirley in the play couldn’t speak any better. I had no rewind button to push, but I did know the story.
If I thought Shirley Valentine was difficult to comprehend, try attending a Mexican queen coronation that drew two huge Mexican singing sensations who bantered throughout the evening to the delight of everyone but the gringos. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Mexican women love to dress up. I adore watching young mothers pose for their husbands while on vacation. They learn the pose and the look early. I watched a mother working her six year old daughter to look at her daddy’s camera with a sultry pose. If you bring out a camera in front of a group of Mexican women, the pose pops out automatically. While waiting for Sharon finishing up at a beauty salon in a mall the other day, I looked at a photo display of women on a photo shop window. The only place that I could think of in the States that would have shown some of the more provocative photos would have been on Bourbon Street in New Orleans. The ones of the eight month plus pregnant mothers blew me away. If you don’t think pregnant women can look sexy, go to Gran Plaza Mall. Holy Friole.
Now you get a bit of an understanding why the men’s coronation is free and the women’s costs money. The ballet dancers, the elaborate flower numbers reminded me of Beach Blanket Bingo in San Francisco, but the headdresses there are a spoof of performances like I watched. The sets were garish to an extreme, but the fireworks were dazzling.
I knew that the most famous Mexican songwriter would perform. I assumed that the young female star would perform afterwards, but it didn’t happen that way. The two sang duets…..an old 5’1” guy matched up with a 6’ stunningly graceful and attractive woman. The singing I liked. The Mexicans preferred the bantering that took up much more of the performance. I understood none of it. The next day I listened to a story about our Condo association president who makes a joke out of everything he hears. His wife related that every time the audience broke into any degree of laughter that Rich laughed louder and longer. He, of course, understood not a word of it. Who does that?
Saturday night a group of fifteen friends from Paraiso rented our favorite 51 foot sailboat. We loaded it up with copious amounts of food and alcohol for a seven hour evening. We boarded to catch a sunset. Then we sailed towards Olas Altas, where the oldest section of the beach of Mazatlan begins. In 1863 a battle between the French ships off the city’s coast line fired on Mazatlan. The fireworks that took place this evening captured a reenactment of this battle that the Mexicans won. The entire year 2010 is a focus on national pride as it’s the 200 year anniversary of its independence from Spain. This battle reenactment is just one of Mexico’s successes that will dot this year’s calendar. Besides its historical significance, the fireworks compared favorably to the best I have seen. The most spectacular though occurred in Paris on Bastille Day four years ago where large speakers played music that accompanied the fireworks on the parade area in front of the Eiffel Tower. It was like watching Fantasia live with 300,000 of my closest French friends.
Sunday late afternoon, the infamous parade rode down the Malecon. Again the theme focused on Mexican patriotism. The floats carried princesses galore, but the floats themselves all reflected Mexico’s history. Bands marched and played. People lined the streets for hours beforehand, and they partied early and long into the evening. Costumes and horses and heroes and swirling colorful dresses and monstrous floats flew by one after another. The spectators loved it. They cheered and sang patriotic songs and shared their enthusiasm with everyone in their midst. A newly renovated bar sat at our back which provided not only refreshments but also los banos. We bought extra beers for celebrants who surrounded us and befriended us. Ahhhh the power of cervezas!!!!! We talked to so many people who had come from all over Mexico to enjoy this wild fiesta. They came every year. Since I bought one gentleman beers, he wanted me to share his evening in the pursuit of wild women. He flashed his condoms and told me that we could find muy bonita muchachas. Nunez caught his leering eye, shook her finger at him in the universal no directions, and said, “El esta mi esposa”; as she next pointed to her wedding band. My friend apologized and disappeared.
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