Sobering Advice From The Dalai Lama

So I’ve been a college football fan ever since I could walk upright, mostly unassisted; since I could clearly tell the difference between lima beans and spaghetti; and since my big brother, Jay, bought me my first USC Trojan Football gear, size XXXS…didn’t have a hoodie but my footed Cardinal and Gold sweats did have an emergency back flap…just in case.

A fan since being independently locomotive, a dental student for four years, and a USC alumnus/apologist/honk ever since, I finally saw a Trojan head football coach look just like I wanted to feel after USC found a way to lose to Texas in the 2006 Rose Bowl National Championship game.

And something just flashed through my mind. 2006 was the very same year development started on Rosemead and Las Tunas. It’s almost ten years since I promised to run down Las Tunas dressed only in a pink tutu and bruin t-shirt if the project was somehow completed within a decade. And ten years is a long time to stress over a football loss but it’s even a longer time to finally put up a bunch of shacks on a dirt lot.

Anyway, when the head coach showed up drunk for the big fan/donor/family football launch event of the year it made me wonder what would happen if a grammar school principal, paid less than the coach’s $3.5 million annual salary, had performed in a similar way during Open House night?

Obviously, it was time for a Dalai Lama intervention and some serious HH perspective across the street over at our usual El Pollo Loco haunt. If the coach couldn’t stay sober for one night, what could we expect from 21-year olds away from home on weekends during football season? Or to paraphrase our noble leader, how could the Trojans manage to compete even with opponents “who suck”? How could the Trojans (expletive) fight on?

I was getting way too negative. And nobody likes a negative guy who puts power tools in their mouth.

“First off, His Holiness, thank you so much for meeting with me once again. Last week, my Trojan family was exposed to a mad man seemingly invaded by the tiny soul of The Donald, cross-medicated with one baby aspirin tablet, Quaaludes, and a bottle of Tequila. I’m usually very forgiving, but this time I’m totally up for firing the loser.

JVB, as always, it’s my pleasure visiting your peaceful hamlet; sorry about the eyesore on Rosemead and Las Tunas. There are street corners in Tibet that look far more contemporary…but remember young JVB, patience is a virtue. And for the last frickin’ pigskin time, you can call me HH; have we not broken tortillas at this chicken joint before?

HH, sorry about that; I do know better. Focusing on all the negative stuff from the past can only cloud my present. Why stress over that which I cannot control?

JVB, are you still not the foremost elite athlete/scribe/DDS-type in the San Gabriel valley?

HH, it’s not for me to say but yeah, who am I to argue with the Dalai Lama?

JVB, you should know a calm forgiving mind brings inner strength and self-confidence. And it is very important to generate a good attitude, a good heart, as much as possible. From this, happiness in both the short term and the long term for yourself and others will come. Sometimes one creates a dynamic impression by saying something, and sometimes one creates as significant an impression by remaining silent.

HH, you’re basically advising me to forgive and forget, suck it up, and keep my mouth shut. This meeting is over, isn’t it?

JVB, once again you remind me of Einstein. Get me back to LAX molar jockey. And if you find yourself running down Las Tunas in a tutu, understand the journey to integrity is joyous and rewarding…even when you’re wearing a powder puff blue bruin t-shirt.”

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