My Future Wife Needs Our Help!!!

Look, I don't know if Mallory Everton is actually my future wife. I'm not a fortune teller. I can't see the future. And, despite two beautifully worded blog posts expressing my feelings for her, she still has not responded:( My friends and family have encouraged me to give up, and that continuing to post about her is becoming increasingly embarrassing and pathetic. BUT what I do know, is that although my chances may be slim, while I'm still single, Mallory is still one of roughly a billion single females out there in the world that I COULD potentially marry (my mind is telling me there's not a chance, but something inside me, maybe my heart, is telling me to hold out hope just a little longer).

Well, at present, she needs our help to win a contest with some of her co-workers. They are trying to see who's Facebook fan page can get the most 'likes.' And, due to the absolutely MASSIVE readership of this blog, I think we can really help her out.

So please click on this link: Mallory's Facebook Page and 'like' her page. You won't regret it.

Ok, now that's out of the way I can tell you that I'm seriously entertaining the idea of asking out a real-life human girl who I actually know and interact with. If ANY of you reading this know how people do this in the real world let me know. The best idea I've been able to come with is to purchase a live iguana, duct tape its arms and legs to her porch and tie a string around its neck and attach the other end of it to the door knob. Then doorbell ditch her. That way when she opens the door, the iguana's head is ripped off. And I've left a note with it that says 'Iguana go out with me sometime?' with my name and phone number. Thoughts?

My Mom is Better Than Your Mom

            Ok, so, for those of you who read my last post, just wanted to give you a quick update. Shockingly, Mallory has still not contacted me. But I’m not giving up yet!!!  I would now like to give a personal message to Mallory, so the rest of you just skip over the next paragraph please. It’s not for you.

            Listen, Mallory, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I probably shouldn’t have been so forward in my last post. Chances are things wouldn’t work out between us. Maybe you’d break my heart. Maybe I’d break yours. BUT, what if, just what if, neither of us break the other’s heart? What then Mallory? Is that a risk you are willing to take by continuing to ignore me? And look, I’m not asking for a commitment…just a nice casual dinner…and then maybe a walk around the temple holding hands. THAT’S IT!!! No pressure. If you’re still not sold, here are a few other things you should know about me:

-       I love puppies, but I don’t care for small dogs.

-       I DO NOT like long walks on the beach. Walking in sand makes me tired. But I do like to lie on the beach very much.

-       I have watched every episode of ‘Dawson’s Creek’ so I clearly know what real life (and love) is all about. (Side note: I have also seen ‘Breaking Dawn Part 1’ all the way through. I really wish I could somehow un-see it. But I can’t. I just thought you should know.  I completely understand if this is a deal breaker).

-       I currently hold the rank of Jr. Orange Belt in Kempo Karate (earned in 7^th grade). So I can definitely protect you.

-       Yes, I am 30, but tons of people tell me I look like I’m 29…and that I act way younger than I look.

And that’s just scratching the surface. So, yeah, get in touch with me. I’ll make sure I have all my lines of communication available at all times.

            Now let’s move on to the real purpose of this post. It’s Mother’s Day! And because, first, my Mother is the only consistent reader of this blog anyway, and second,  I just quit my job and then drove to and from Milwaukee, Wisconsin for no real reason and have nothing to show for it…well mother, I have hardly a dime to my name. So I’m dedicating this post to my most wonderful mother, Julee Clark Kowallis. I know this is not as good a gift as last year when I gave you that homemade card with an outline of my hand on the front (this is true), but it will have to do. (And Mallory, if you’re reading this, we don’t even have to go out if you’ll just come over for dinner and pretend to be my girlfriend for a night on Mother’s Day. My mom would flip! Not that she’s a big fan of yours or anything, she just really wants me to bring a girl over for dinner…actually, any girl reading this who would like to come over for dinner and pretend to be my girlfriend, please get in touch with me. Best Mother’s Day Gift ever!).

            I learned to respect my mother at a young age. But that was mainly because of my father. I remember one time being asked by my Mom to take the garbage out and, instead of jumping to my feet and running to take out the garbage with zeal, I, in fact, murmured and procrastinated. I found every excuse not to do it, including shutting my self into the bathroom. Well, this must have upset my mother, because pretty soon my dad came bursting into the bathroom with fire in his eyes, and lifted me off the toilet by my hair (yes, I used to have hair)! And he also had some strong words for me about showing my mom proper respect. Well. I learned a very valuable lesson that day…which was to always lock the door when going to the bathroom. No, but for reals, I did learn how much my dad cared for and respected my mom, and that I needed to have that same respect for her. After all, as she frequently reminds me, she bore me for 9 months.

            This is turning out to be a harder post than I anticipated. I’m not very good at expressing my true emotions, even in writing it turns out.

            The one thing about my mom, and about most moms I imagine, is that they never stop loving you. I know sometimes when she looks at me she wonders ‘Man, what did I do wrong with that kid?’ And that’s the crazy thing about her. I’m the one that is constantly making a mess out of my life. It has nothing to do with how she raised me (I have a tendency to do the exact opposite of what people tell me to do). But for some reason all she can do is love me, and ask herself what more she could have or can still do to help me. She’d be perfectly within her rights to introduce me to people as ‘my idiot son Karl,’ but she never does. In fact, it seems like she can’t help but talk me up to everyone. And she always tells me how much everyone she knows thinks I’m the greatest guy ever, which can’t be true, right? I mean, there’s been some pretty great guys. Abe Lincoln comes to mind.

           

            Anyway, the thing is, when someone loves you unconditionally, even if you don’t understand why they love you that way, you just can’t help but love them back.

            I don’t tell you enough, but I love you Mom. I really do. Thanks for putting up with me. I promise one day I’m going to turn things around, and then I’ll be able to take you on a cruise instead of writing you a blog. Happy Mother’s Day!

I'm turning 30! (Plus a message to my celebrity crush) by Karl Kowallis

          Hello readers of this blog! Thanks for reading...or for at least for clicking on the link so my blog thinks that you read it…and for keeping profanities to a minimum in the comments section.

          I’ve arrived at a point of my life where some serious reflection has been required. I actually don’t know quite what to think or how to feel about this, but I’m turning 30 years old on March 10^th. I don’t know whether to celebrate or go and find somewhere to curl up in the fetal position and wait for death to take me. Anyway, in honor of this momentous occasion, I’ve decided to give you all an update on my life.

            This blog is called Life: The Guidebook for a reason. That reason is that if you wanna know how you should be living your life, all you have to do is read this blog…and then do the exact opposite of everything I do or tell you to do! It’s simple really. So here’s what I’m up to:

            The first thing to know is that, at age 30, I’m constantly working on improving my quality of life. That’s why I am currently back living in my parent’s basement! I know what you’re thinking, that I really should NOT be living in my parent’s basement at age 30, right? Well, yeah maybe you’re right. But look at this from my perspective. I don’t pay rent (if you had a choice between paying rent and not paying rent what would you do?). There is a fridge full of food. And if I get scared at night my parent’s bedroom is right up stairs! It’s the American Dream (this is why we all voted for Obama right?)! The only downside is that if I miss my 11:00pm curfew my parents cut my allowance (I’m just telling a little joke there. They’d never cut my allowance for missing curfew. I might get grounded though).

            I also have a fantastic job! I am a part-time manager at a local Mexican restaurant. I’m kind of a big deal. This is a great job because I know every day I’m probably either going to be yelled at by an angry customer or have to yell at an employee. Surprisingly I actually prefer to be yelled at than to have to yell at someone. Sometimes this makes me less effective as a manager. But I do my best. Recently, to try and motivate the staff, I ‘sorted’ all of the employees into ‘houses’ (yes like on Harry Potter). Now, as the ‘head master’ of sorts, I can go around giving and taking points from people for whatever I want. Employees can really rack up the points by complimenting my looks. The house that has the most points at the end of the month will get an awesome prize (at least that’s what I’m letting the staff believe). How fun is that! Also I have plenty of free time to work on my next multi-million dollar business venture…and to read fantasy novels and watch Hulu Plus.

            I’m also still attending church, which from what I understand about the single-30-year-old-balding-male-living-at-home-with-a-part-time-job demographic, is quite the accomplishment. I spend most of my time at church arguing with the ward clerk about whether my position as EXECUTIVE SECRETARY is higher than his (Neil are you the executive clerk or just the clerk? That’s what I thought).

            As for my love life, to say it’s going really, really well right now would just be an understatement. To give you a point of reference, I usually try to maintain at least 1 or 2 hopeless and secret crushes on girls (actually women) at any given time as well as at least one hopeless crush on a celebrity (just for fun, ok). Well, I’m actually currently engaged in at least 4 legitimate hopeless/secret crushes right now! 4! This is ground breaking for me; especially since the last couple years it’s been a struggle to even find one. I’ve been in a destructive state of mind where I preferred to look at/interact with slices of pizza more than women. I think I’m coming out of it now. Also, my celebrity crushes are usually Hollywood stars that I know I have no hope of meeting or ever even seeing in real life. And even if by some miracle I was to meet, say, Emma Watson, I’d somehow have to convince her that she should be interested in a 30 year old manager of a Mexican restaurant living in his parents basement, rather than in any number of wealthy, good looking celebrities and the like that she has access to (Side Note: I have this same struggle convincing non-celebrity women). And if by some larger miracle I actually were able to convince someone like Emma Watson to be interested in me, I would only end up breaking her heart. Sure, I’d date her for a while, and write bad poetry about her (I’d be doing my best though) and try to learn how to speak in a British accent to make her feel more comfortable, but differences in our religious upbringing and moral standards would be too much and would eventually lead to the downfall of our relationship. Well, things are really looking up on this front as well. Let me introduce you to my current celebrity crush: the beautiful, funny, talented, MORMON Mallory Everton!

Here she is in the hit sketch comedy show put on by BYUTV, Studio C. (Just to be clear she is the on the left doing modified exercises, not the one in the middle or on the right with the mustache):

And she sings, plays the guitar AND has a spiritual side:

And here she is in a commercial for BYU:

Ok…I agree that one is a bit strange, but in some weird way it manages to instill within me a burning desire to attend BYU (again).

Now, the great thing about this celebrity crush is that if by some miracle we meet, and if by some miracle she somehow becomes interested in me, and if by some miracle we begin dating and fall into deep romantic love with one another and she sings me to sleep every night and plays her guitar for me and does funny impressions of Russian women to keep me entertained…well, then we can also get married in the temple. Win, win?

Yes I realize this blog just got real creepy. But if I can’t post creepy stuff to my own blog then where can I? And feel free to stop reading now if you’re starting to feel uncomfortable, because it’s about to get even creepier.

Here’s a picture of me wearing the t-shirt Mallory threw to me during a recent taping of Studio C.

So it’s a bit small for me. I don’t care, I’m still going to keep wearing it everyday under my clothes.

Mallory, if you’re reading this blog, here’s why you should go out with me:

1. I’m not as creepy in real life as I seem in this blog (unless by writing it I’ve actually become as creepy as I seem?).
2. I can only have more success in my life than what I have now. When you’re at the bottom the only place to go is up. So if we go out and you can stand me even a little bit, by my logic things can only get better from there.
3. I haven’t had a speeding ticket in like 5 or 6 years.
4. I enjoy romantic comedies so we’ll never have to argue about going to see one.
5. If we do go out and it’s just as bad as you’re thinking it’s going to be, you’ll have a great story to tell for years to come. And maybe it will even give you some material for another sketch. (PS I have some other great ideas for your show I’d love to bounce off of you. Like, I have this adult-sized bacon slice costume, and somebody could be wearing it in one of the sketches or something. Still fine tuning it).

Anyway, I think you get the picture. Sure it’s not pretty, but it’s a picture. Look, in the NFL or the NBA, sometimes they will draft a player solely on potential. He hasn’t accomplished much yet, but they can see he’s just a freak athlete. That’s how you should view me…as some massive untapped potential that can be molded into something great.

So yeah, feel free to contact me at 801-400-5281. Or on Facebook. Or on Twitter (@karlkowallis). You definitely won’t regret it most likely.

Mallory, or Mal, if I can call you that. You don’t have to be the third wheel anymore.

So anyway, that’s pretty much how my life is going right now…yep.

Bad Date (This Really Happened)...A 3rd Person Narrative by Karl Kowallis

        Here's an updated classic from the world famous Facebook group 'Karl Kowallis isn't getting married and doesn't need your address.' Sorry if this is a repeat for some.
     
         Once, there was a girl Karl had had his eye on for quite some time. They worked together at a local Mexican restaurant and after a few months (it usually takes Karl an abnormally long amount of time to work up enough courage to ask out a girl that he is genuinely interested in) he finally decided to ask her out. To his surprise and excitement, she agreed to go on a date with him.
     
        One of Karl's friends had been bugging him to double with him for quite some time so Karl determined that this would be as good a time as any to do so. So the four (Karl, date, friend, friend's girlfriend), made plans for dinner (which Karl paid for), a short local event (which Karl paid for), and then to go get dessert (previously purchased by Karl and then prepared by Karl {the dessert was cream soda floats. Not as tasty as you would think actually.) at Karl's house. Karl's date forgot to mention that when she agreed to go out with him that night, she meant that only her physical body was going to be able to make it, but that her personality, sense of human decency, and general regard for others, had other places to be.
     
        Dinner was relatively normal (Karl's date ordered something and then didn't eat it). The short local activity was going alright, until the four of them bumped into another friend (a dude) of theirs (actually more of an acquaintance of Karl's and an old friend of Karl's other friend {Confused yet? Good). Well, for some reason, Karl's friend decided that it would be a good idea to invite this other gentleman along with them on the double date! So the double date now consisted of two couples and one additional dude.

         Karl didn't know the guy very well, but one thing he found out quickly was that he had no problem flirting with Karl's date! And, oddly enough, Karl's date's missing personality finally made an appearance as well, and at that point the double date was back on track! There were still 5 people total, only now there were two couples (the friend and his girlfriend, and the date and the random guy) and one chauffeur (Karl).

        So Karl drove the four to his house where he served dessert to them. Then the two couples and Karl played Catch Phrase together, which, to make things worse, Karl's team lost because his team mates (his date and random guy) were too busy flirting with each other. Karl then had the pleasure of taking everyone home.

        Karl also got to sit in the car and wait for about half an hour for his date and the random guy to finish up a conversation they were having, before Karl could walk his date to the door. And so he just sat there in silence and let it happen. And to Karl's shock and horror, the random guy actually got this girl's phone number and made plans to hang out with her while the three of them were sitting in the car in front of her apartment, yes while she was on a date with Karl!

        When this guy finally wrapped things up he said "So Karl, are you going to walk her to the door or what?" And so Karl speechlessly walked his date to the door and let her give him a meaningless hug...unless the meaning of the hug was "Hey Karl. Thanks for spending your hard earned money so I could ignore you all night and make plans in front of you to go out with another guy! I don't even feel badly about this. In fact, I'm glad I said yes to you even though I should've just said no, because that guy who just got my number from the back seat of your car is a $Romney$ (this is true). My plan all along was to try to make this date as terrible as possible so that there would be no chance of you asking me out again (this is also true and confirmed by trusted sources). Hopefully this date was bad enough that I never have to talk to you...or even look at you again. Also, you suck at Catch Phrase. And cream soda floats? Really? Well, here's a courtesy hug, although it pains me to my very core to have to be within even a ten foot radius of you. I hope you die."

Karl didn't date for 6 years after this (false).

The End

This story is not fabricated although I've omitted the names to protect...myself?

Why I hate Valentine's Day by Karl Kowallis

        Sorry if you've already read or heard me tell a version of this story. It just seems appropriate at this time of year and that is why I'm re-telling it. But here's why I hate Valentine's Day...and women (JK any women who are reading this! You are all fantastic and I love each and every one of you!).

        Natalie Wright was the most beautiful 3rd grader at Windsor Elementary, maybe even the world! If you were a male in the 3rd grade at Windsor in 1992, you only had eyes for Natalie. It just so happens that I (Karl Kowallis) was a male in the 3rd grade at Windsor elementary in 1992. 

        I feel like Natalie and I had a fairly serious relationship, considering that during almost every recess period since Kindergarten we had tried to give each other bunny ears (this is commonly done by sneaking up behind the person you want to give bunny ears to, and holding two upright fingers behind their head. It really makes them look foolish!). Did I ever talk to her? Of course not!!! But my friends and I would frequently ride our bikes near by her house. And if we ever saw her outside, we'd yell her name really loudly then ride off as fast as we could (Note: Anyone reading this who is thinking this may still be an effective dating technique, you're right! But I caution you to wear shoes when riding the bike. If you don't, there's a possibility that one or more of your toes can get caught in the pedal when you're trying to ride off so quickly, and you may end up falling off your bike in the middle of the street in front of the girl of your dreams right after you've yelled her name at the top of your lungs. It can ruin the effect and also make you look like an idiot. Not that this happened to me or anything...I'm just saying). So yeah, as you can see our relationship had grown pretty serious by the time we were in the 3rd grade. I had a perfect view of Natalie from my desk, and although she never looked back at me or acknowledged me in any way, I knew she was thinking the same thing I was: We were definitely going to get married someday. Well, as the year rolled along, our relationship continued to progress. We both finished in the top 5 in the Halloween costume contest ( I was a ninja and Natalie was a mad scientist). When we gave presentations on famous people, and I dressed up as an astronaut, and everyone thought I was Neil Armstrong, when really I was John Glenn, and I tried to explain it to the class, but no body knew who John Glenn was, she was there to make fun of me along with all the other kids. Things couldn't have been better! Not to mention, Valentine's Day was upon us. I knew this was my chance to really seal the deal with Natalie once and for all. 

        I devised a fool proof plan to win her heart. First, I had my dad make me a valentine box that would win 1st place in the contest we were having. Those kids who tried to make their valentine boxes on their own had no chance, and winning 1st place would definitely grab Natalie's attention! And the second and final stage of my plan was to give her the normal ninja turtle valentine card that I was giving to everyone else, but instead of just giving her one or two of those little chalk-heart candies, I stuffed her's completely full! Not only that, but I hand selected each candy heart that I put in to make sure that the message was sent ( in those days a misplaced candy heart that said "fax me" on it could be relationship suicide). I considered adding a few cinnamon flavored gummi-lips to her Valentine but I though it might be a little too racy, so I left them out (turned out to be a mistake, but hindsight is 20/20 right?) 

        Valentine's Day arrived and stage one of my plan was thwarted by a valentine box shaped like a penguin, and another that looked like a computer (I still to this day think that the penguin box should have been dis-qualified. What do penguins have to do with Valentine's day? Hey, kid, I think you got Valentine's Day and Christmas mixed up! There was no competing with the computer though). My choo-choo train valentine box (built 100% by my father) took only 3rd place. But I still felt like 3rd might be enough to at least gain a little of Natalie's interest. Then we passed out our Valentines and at that point only time would tell if stage two of my plan was successful. 

        Kids began opening their Valentines eagerly. I just sat back and waited. But then something happened that I had not planned for. Some of the other guys in the class had already opened the Valentines they had gotten from Natalie. And they were proudly showing each other that Natalie had hand written "I love you" in each of their Valentines. At first a wave of insane jealously hit me, but then, as more guys congregated to boast about the Valentine Natalie had given them, I realized that she had hand written "I love you" in ALL of the guys Valentines! My heart lifted as I started to frantically search through my pile of Valentines. I was about to get a hand written note from Natalie Wright! And not only that, it was going to be a hand-written note telling me that she LOVED me! I couldn't contain my excitement, to the point that my teacher (Mrs. Mellor) had to ask me if I was alright and told me I needed to calm down. I believe I may have been making some sort of gurgling noise as well as banging the train valentine box up and down on the desk as I was searching for Natalie's valentine. And then there it was in front of me. "To: Karl From: Natalie" My heart skipped a beat. Pink and Purple heart-shaped stickers decorated the envelope. I tore it open. I didn't even bother to eat the candy inside. It was a care bears valentine, and one of the bears on the front was shooting a rainbow out of it's belly. I unfolded it. And there, scrawled in Natalie's 3rd grade penmanship, was a hand written note just for me. "Karl, I do NOT love you." The "NOT" was also circled and underlined to make sure that I fully understood her message (message received Natalie...message received).
        
        I wanted to disappear. Or to die. I felt like instead of a care bear shooting a rainbow at me out of its belly, it had shot something else. Something terrible. Like a bunch of unpaid bills or tax documents or something. Nothing could have prepared a 3rd grader for the range of emotions that were rolling through me. My life was officially over. I went home that day and in a fit of rage, tore apart my 3rd prize winning Valentine box. All of my dad's hard work destroyed, just like my heart.
       
        That, my friends, is why I hate Valentine's Day.

Fighting the Battle

Hello whoever is reading this! Probably still just you mom. I realize that. But I’ve heard rumors that since the creation of this blog some 3 years ago and a grand total of 7 original blog posts over that period of time, my readership has expanded 300% and now includes my mom, my dad, and possibly one of my two sisters.

            Anyway, the purpose of this post is to begin to mend the broken faith that so many people once had in me. The title of my blog is Life: The Guidebook. And as the title insinuates, it was originally meant to be a guidebook for one’s life! And in my original blog post I promised to cover a wide range of topics and included my credentials to cover those topics (see here). And, although it wasn’t easy to type 7 entire blog posts over these last 3 years, thus far I have failed to cover…well, much of anything really.

            What spurred me into action again here today is actually a serious and private battle I’ve been fighting for many years now that I’ve finally decided I need to make public. And this is not a topic that I take lightly, because I know that I’m not the only one suffering from an addiction. And, if you choose to keep reading, I warn you that this is a topic that I’m planning to be completely honest about and it may be a little uncomfortable for some. And it’s not something that I’m proud of admitting to, but at some points in life, you just have to admit defeat and ask for help and support from people who care about you. So all I’m asking for from anyone reading this is understanding and support. Please know as well that this is not easy for me, but here goes:

            I, Karl Kowallis, for about as long as I can remember, have been hopelessly addicted to food.

            There I said it! And it’s true. It’s the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about at night. And even in sleep I can’t escape it, for my dreams are haunted by visions of food (mainly anything salty and from a pig). I make 3 and only 3 important decisions each day: What to eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And I don’t waste my time thinking about anything else during the hours between those meals (like, if I should finish school, or choose a career, or get married or something), because I want to be sure and make the best decision possible for myself.

            You might laugh, but this is no joke. It’s a slippery slope and I, my friends, have been to the bottom of that slope. There was a brief time (this is at the bottom of the slope) when I would eat at the Cheesecake Factory every day.  And, this is hard to say but it’s true, some days I would eat at the Cheesecake Factory TWICE a day. And, this is even harder to say, but I would typically order a piece of cheesecake at the restaurant AND order a second piece to take home and eat later! Wanna know the sad part? I don’t even really like cheesecake that much. I’m so ashamed!

            Luckily I’ve bounced back and have begun to climb back up the slippery slope, but it’s not easy. Along the way, pretty much everyone has had some advice for me…my all time favorite being the suggestion of many to simply ‘snack on almonds’ because they will curb your hunger. Really? You know what else curbs my hunger? Cheeseburgers.

            But the problem is not that I’m just really, really hungry all the time. Hunger alone doesn’t drive someone to eat an entire large Dominos pizza AND THEN have a couple more slices of another pizza shortly thereafter (yes it’s sad, but I’ve done it). No, that person is driven by something sick and twisted deep within his soul, a part of him that he is constantly battling for control of his own actions.

            Unfortunately for me, I also come from a family whose get-togethers revolve solely around eating. For example, at a recent family gathering this was our pre-planned morning of activities: breakfast at the hotel, stop by a French bakery for morning buns, visit a gourmet chocolate shop, eat at a restaurant called ‘The Braught Haus,’ and then stop for ice cream. This all happened before 2:00pm at which point we went to my Aunt’s house and ate until it was time for dinner.

            Anyway, this all reached a head about a year and a half ago when I stepped on a scale and realized I was 10lbs short of 300. Let me tell you, as someone who prides himself on having ladies flock to him like ducks in a park to pieces of wonder bread, it was a very humbling spot to be in.

            I’ve since lost over 30lbs and am currently participating in a weight loss contest where the person who loses the highest percentage of body weight by January, 6^th will win a pot of around $400. I’m doing well and I feel like I could definitely win this baby. In fact just the other day I had my biggest victory yet. I went to Texas Roadhouse and had a plate of hot rolls and honey butter set directly in front of me and I didn’t even touch them! Oh I got real close and smelled them and imagined myself eating them, but I didn’t touch them. Hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

              But even if I don’t win, I think all of the participants can count themselves winners, right? But seriously though, I want to win real bad. That money could get me out of a few jams (I still have an unpaid tab at the Cheesecake Factory). So help me out.  Maybe grab my phone and smash it if you see me ordering a pizza or slash my tires if you see me in the Wendy’s drive through or something. Anyway, thanks for understanding!

Why I love Sports

So…you wanna know why I love sports?

            Just as a disclaimer, this post is NOT intended to be funny, and is probably more of a rant/explanation than anything. But I get asked all the time (mostly when I’m deep in conversation with someone about who BYU is recruiting or what the Jazz need to do to make the playoffs) why I care so much about sports. And I certainly do love my sports, especially football and basketball. But this question frustrates me to no end! Well, from now on, instead of getting into a fruitless argument with people who ask me this, I’m just going to post this entry to my blog and make up some business cards with the link on printed them, and give them out whenever I get asked.

Okay, so there are probably hundreds of reasons to love sports like I do. And I fully intend to cover each and every one of them in this post (not really, but I will cover a few). But first and foremost,

 Why does anybody care about anything!!!

            This is the most frustrating thing to me when someone questions me about sports. I love sports for the same reason anyone loves anything. Because I personally enjoy them! That’s it. Why do people listen to music? Why do people watch TV? Why do people go hunting or fishing or whatever? Because they get enjoyment or pleasure or fulfillment from it. Some people like to look at paintings, I like to watch grown men sweat on each other. Big deal. I don’t ask you why you care so much about the Kardashians. No, I don’t get it. But what I do get is that people just care about different things because people themselves are different!!! So don’t ask me why I care about something…just accept me for who I am.

            Now for those that sincerely want to know why I love sports, and aren’t just asking me because they personally don’t see the point and want to make me feel like I’m wasting my time by even checking a score once in a while, feel free to continue reading.

So typically when someone asks me why I like sports I say just what I wrote earlier. I enjoy them. But that’s usually followed by another comment or question to the effect of,

“Yeah, I get that going to a game or watching can be fun, but I don’t get why you care who wins or loses. YOU'RE not the one shooting the ball?”

            Really? Just because I’m not actually the one doing something means I can’t care about it!?! The only people I allow to make this argument are those people who have never watched a movie, TV show, play, concert or any other performance, never read a book, or had someone tell them a story, or looked at anything they didn’t build or create, or had any interaction in which they watched, saw, read about, or heard about something that they weren’t involved in first hand, but still cared about. This rules out, oh, I don’t know, THE ENTIRE HUMAN RACE! 

            It’s like asking someone, ‘Why are you watching this show? It doesn’t matter whether those people live or die, because it’s only a show. Plus YOU’RE not the one actually shooting those zombies.’ Or, ‘Why are you listening to that music? YOU’RE not the one playing it so who cares what it sounds like?’ Or, ‘Did you paint that? No? Then you shouldn’t want to look at it.’ If I can get this point across, I usually hear a rebuttal something like this,

“Well, whether a team wins or loses, I still have to get up and go to work tomorrow soo…I just don’t get why you care.”

            What kind of life are we living when the things we care about and the things we don’t are determined by whether or not we have to go to work the next day? So Fridays and Saturdays I can care about everything, because I don’t have to get up the next day and go to work? BUT I can’t care about anything any other day…unless I have a day off?

            No, I realize the point they’re trying to make is that it’s stupid to let sports affect me. And yeah, I do get disappointed when my teams lose and it definitely puts a smile on my face when they win. But c’mon? I’m only allowed to have things that would cause me to ‘miss work’ affect me? So really just funerals and weddings then I guess?

“Ok, I can understand that, but I don’t get how you can listen to sports talk radio and why you’re always looking at stats, and reading articles.”

            This is where it gets a bit trickier to explain. And to do so, I think I need to first go through some of the reasons I love sports to understand where I’m coming from on this one. So here we go:

-Memories

            Some of my earliest are of going to BYU football and basketball games with my dad. He’d buy me a big soda and taught me how to make straws to drink it with out of licorice. And he’d help me keep track of all the players’ points on a stat sheet. I just fell in love with going to those games. Most kids pretended they were Superman or Luke Skywalker. I had a tennis ball and a laundry basket, which I shot hoops into and pretended I was Marty Haws (former BYU basketball player). I know, I know, this sounds like the beginning of a story where I end up hitting the game winning shot at the buzzer to win the state championship and I owe it all to hard work and my passion for basketball that began at a young age. Let me just say that I now know from firsthand experience that no matter how skilled you become throwing a tennis ball into a laundry basket, that skill will absolutely not translate one bit to actually playing the game of basketball in real life.

            I remember my whole family having party for the Super Bowl when Steve Young and the ‘Niners won it and then again a couple of years later when the Packers won it and even my mom being excited for them.

            I remember sitting on the front row of BYU football games with my friend, Matt Orme, and yelling at the visiting team players until they would make obscene gestures at us.

            I remember rushing the field with my friend Blake Wilding when BYU beat a highly ranked Texas A&M team that they weren’t supposed to even compete with, and taking a chunk of the field home and saving it in my desk drawer for years.

            Late night Jazz playoff games with my sister and dad against Clyde Drexler and the Portland Trailblazers.

            When the Jazz finally beat the Rockets to go to the Finals the first time. I jumped up so fast and hard when Stockton hit that shot that I bloodied my hand on the ceiling. My dad was just as excited.

            My first (of many) road trips to see BYU play UNLV in Vegas with some of my best friends from high school.

            Another game at UNLV which some friends and I used as an excuse for a late season Lake Mead boating trip.

            Using BYU football as an excuse to visit my best friend from high school in Oregon.

            Using BYU football as an excuse to visit HAWAII!!!!

            Going to a Jazz game with Brian Park and getting on the jumbotron 3 times. Also, being absolutely certain that Dirk Nowitski could hear us yelling at him and that we got in is head and caused him to have a terrible night. The Jazz won that night because of me and Brian.

            JIMMER.

            Watching BYU basketball/Jimmer with my grandfather and watching him get so excited every time Jimmer took a shot that we honestly thought he might have another heart attack.

            Watching the Las Vegas bowl at my grandparent’s house and my grandmother calmly predicting that BYU would block a UCLA field goal to win the game, and then it actually happening.

            Using Green Bay Super Bowls and University of Wisconsin Rose Bowls as an excuse to have a party at my grandparent’s house.

            Last second BYU victories over Utah and jumping up and down screaming with my father.

            And many, many more.

            You get the point though. These memories become about more than just the games. But the sports facilitate these moments in my life, with family and friends, which I’ll never forget. Sure there’s other ways to accomplish the same thing. But for me, sports have been one of the best ways.

-They are real

            Now, we’ve gone over the fact that I’m not actually playing the sport. I know this. BUT, the one unique thing about sports as opposed to almost any other form of entertainment is that a game is played only once. It will never be played the exact same way twice. You’re watching people do amazing things live right before your eyes. These people are the fastest, most athletic and physically fit humans on the planet and they are creating something new every time they take the field or the court or whatever. (This is also the reason I love live music and especially jazz. I can barely stand to listen to a jazz album in the car or at home, but going to a live jazz concert is fantastic because they are improvising new music that they have never played before and won’t ever play exactly the same way again. Literally, they are composing on the spot. And the energy can be amazing).

            This is also where the listening to talk radio, reading articles and looking at stats comes in to play. We’ve established that sports (even thought ‘it’s just a game’) are, in fact, unique events and are played by real people. I’ve found that the more that I know about the sport and the players playing it, the more incredible it becomes to me to watch them. The things they’ve overcome, the time and effort they’ve put in and the skill that they have. Knowing these things make the sport even more REAL to me and even more entertaining (going back to the live jazz idea from earlier, the first time I listened to jazz, I actually wasn’t crazy about it. But I ended up studying it all throughout high school and even into college. I played the saxophone in jazz band and tried to learn to improvise solos. I studied its history and the artists and all of their backgrounds. So now I have at least somewhat of an understanding of what the great jazz artists are doing. And now, when I hear live jazz, and someone busts out an incredible solo, I know that they are improvising and how much skill and creativity it takes, and I’m blown away).

            Take Jimmer for example. There have been decades of college basketball played in this country. And there have been quite a few players who accomplished much more than Jimmer. People have scored more points, shot better and at a higher percentage, won more games, and won actual national championships. But Jimmer is the only one who grew up as a short, chubby, white kid in a small town in upstate New York, played in prisons, dribbled in darkened church hallways AND THEN went on to a great career. Jimmer’s play on the court was great and very fun to watch, but it’s where he came from that created Jimmermania. People just want someone like that to succeed.

            Knowing these people’s stories makes it even more real to me and, yes, causes me to care more about the outcome of the games they are playing in. I like knowing that Earl Waston (Utah Jazz point guard) grew up terribly poor and in the bad part of Kansas City. The part where if you grow up there you hardly ever leave and do anything with your life, because either the education you receive isn’t adequate or the peer pressure gets to you and you choose a different lifestyle altogether. And I love the fact that he got out, and used basketball as a way to attend UCLA and get an education he otherwise never could have paid for. And I love that now he’s making millions in the NBA and spends a lot of it on foundations and basketball leagues back in Kansas City that are designed to help kids like him get out of a bad situation and in to a good one. It makes it fun to root for him. Yeah, there are some dirt bags too (Kobe), but knowing the dirt makes it more fun to root against them too!

            You think David Cook won American Idol because he was a better vocalist than David Archuleta? Nope. He won because he had the better story (that was for you Mom).

           

            There are 3 things that happen in sports that inspire me more than almost anything else. And they aren’t staged or scripted, but they happen nonetheless.

           

            1. When a team or a player, with the odds stacked against them, overcomes.

Everyone loves an underdog. Think every sports movie you’ve ever seen. Hoosiers, Rudy etc (if you didn’t already know, those movies are actually about real events. The tiny 1A school in Indiana winning the championship in a time when they had to compete with the biggest schools before they were separated into competitive classes by size and the story of a kid who fulfilled his dream to play at Notre Dame, even though nobody believed he could do it). It’s David vs. Goliath. And every year there are stories like that in sports.

            2. When a team or a player who deserves to win, actually wins.

It’s funny, but in real life good guys don’t always win like in the movies. Sometimes the girl ends up with the rich jerk with no personality who treats her like garbage instead of the nice guy who would do anything for her. Sometimes the good guys don’t stop the terrorist plot or save the day just in the nick of time. The same is true in sports, but sometimes the good guy wins. And when it happens it’s great to be there. Sometimes Jimmer wins the Player of the Year and sometimes Tim Tebow takes a team who’s 1-4 and leads them to the playoffs.

           

            3. When the game becomes about more than what’s happening on the court.

If you haven’t seen the video about the autistic high school student whose dream is to play for his high school team, spends the season as the team’s water boy, and then finally gets to play at the end of one game and the end of the season you have to watch it. He completely air balls his first shot, but then proceeds to hit 6 three pointers in a row, at which point the crowd (his classmates) are sent into a frenzy rushing the court and hoisting him on their shoulders. At the point he comes into the game, it was already decided, the home team up by a wide margin. But this was about more than the game.

            Or maybe you’ve heard the story of the team whose star player died on the court after hitting a game winning shot. The team, deciding it’s what their teammate would have wanted, continued to play through the playoffs, dedicating each win to their fallen friend, until ultimately claiming the championship.

-They eliminate a lot of awkward conversations

            One of the other reasons I love sports and love to consume as much info as I can about them, is that they give me common ground with almost any other dude in the world.

            I served a 2-year mission in the Philippines. I learned their language and studied their culture. But what got me into almost as many doors as anything else was the NBA. They LOVE basketball. I’d say I was from Utah and they’d start talking about the Utah Jazz and Karl Malone and John Stockton. I’d mention Michael Jordan or, unfortunately, Kobe Bryant, and we had an instant conversation.

            My father and I don’t have a ton in common. He’s a brilliant scientist, and professor. I haven’t graduated college. He spends just about all his free time doing genealogy. I watch movies and play video games. But the one thing we can always have a conversation about is sports.

            In the words of one of my favorite sports writers, Bill Simmons, ‘I can get along with anyone on the planet as long as they like basketball. You could dress me up in red, drop me in a Crips neighborhood, tell me that I have 12 minutes to start a high-caliber (basketball) conversation before somebody (shoots me)…and I would live.’

            Anyway, if anyone is still even reading this (I just eclipsed 2800 words), the real point again is that it doesn’t matter why I love sports… I just do. But to me it would be silly to EVER watch or go to a game and not care about the outcome. Caring about something makes it infinitely more interesting and knowing/understanding more about something makes you care about it. As you can probably tell, I could keep writing more and more reasons why I personally love sports, but I don’t know if I’d ever finish.

BONUS READING: KARL KOWALLIS’ GREATEST SPORTS MOMENTS

1. Having tried out for the high school basketball team (4 straight years) and never making it, I was relegated to playing Jr. Jazz Provo City League. My teams were never very good and I was never the best player. But man we had fun out there! There was one team in our league that was from our same high school, and had quite a few of the more popular kids and football players who were enjoying the off-season with some basketball. To put this in perspective, just from an athletic standpoint, well, their team was full of football players, including at least one who ended up playing for BYU. And I was in the marching band...and I read fantasy novels. So yeah, we weren’t expected to win. But this game was more than just a game to us. It was like revenge of the nerds or something. We wanted it pretty bad. These were the people that you had gone to school with forever, some of them since elementary school and yet they wouldn't acknowledge you if you passed them in the hall. Anyway I don’t remember too much about the game, except that we were down by 2 with the clock winding down. My buddy Brian was dribbling down the court and I set-up on the right wing. Brian dribbled the clock almost to zero and then, inexplicably, passed me the ball. I was sure he was going to take the last shot, but surprised as I was, I chucked up the ball just as the buzzer was going off. It was a 3 pointer, and as luck would have it, it banked in (I called it {not really}). 
2. I never win. I don’t have a lot of trophies from when I was a kid. I started losing at a young age, when my dad would challenge us kids to play this trivia game called National Geographic. He beat us. There was no mercy in the Kowallis household when it came to playing games. This really ended up helping me cope with losing from a young age as I would go on suffer a series of bitter spelling bee and geography bee defeats. Even when I would get questions correct, my classmates would accuse me of cheating (I’ll never forgive you Chris Wilson). The trend continued into the sports world as I had a long career as the part-time right fielder/13^th batter in little league. One of my most poignant memories is the day of the little league draft, when my 2 best friends Matt and John came screaming and running to my house. Their dads were the coaches of one of the teams, therefore giving them an automatic spot on that specific team. The rest of us whose dads were geology professors had to wait and see what team we were drafted to. Anyway, so they came running up to me as excited as I had ever seen them with some type of news they were dying to share. My immediate assumption was that they had been able to draft me, and thus the jubilation. Well, they didn’t draft me. But they did draft Kyle Roberts! Man were they excited. I was crushed (in their defense, Kyle Roberts may have been the most feared little league pitcher of all-time). So anyway, that was just kind of the pattern of my life…until one fateful summer when things came together for me and our ward basketball team. There was a  stake-wide tournament and each ward had a team. Well, we happened to have probably the best player in the stake and had breezed through the regular season without a single loss (except for the ones we forfeit) and were pretty confident about our chances in the tournament. This was my chance to get a taste of the glory! We reached the semi-finals easily, but then had a major set back. Our best player wasn’t going to be able to make it to the semi-final game. I was crushed. I think that there’s some saying somewhere that says something like, ‘when one hero falls, another shall rise to take his place.’ (Or I might have just made that up). This time, that hero was me!!! Now, I’m not a terrible basketball player. I play hard and can make a shot here and there. But on that particular day I was in a zone! Without our best player to carry us, I proceeded to make 7 3-pointers, including one at the buzzer of the first half from just beyond half-court (just like Jimmer)! I have never before and will probably never again shoot that well in a game, but for a few minutes I felt like I was king of the world! We won the game (actually, we won pretty easily. Even if I didn’t make one shot we probably would have won. The other team was real bad. But it was still awesome, okay?), and then our best player was back for the championship, which we also won. And, yeah, this only happened like 6 months ago.