Posts Tagged ‘redemption’

When Life Kicks You Down, Kick Back

January 11, 2012

The business of professional sports is unforgiving. It is a pure meritocracy, with no excuses tolerated for poor performance: You’ve got problems at home? I’m sorry to hear that, but I don’t want to hear about it. Leave your personal life at the locker room door and go do your job.

It’s an environment that is ripe for feel-good stories of redemption and triumph. Like this stellar story by ESPN.com writer Rick Reilly about San Francisco 49ers placekicker David Akers.


WHAT A DIFFERENCE A YEAR MAKES

David Akers had a rough ending to the 2010 season. Professional and personal turnarounds made for a different story in 2011 (photo by Jason O. Watson of US Presswire)

This is the show-stoppingest year for QBs in NFL history, which is how San Francisco 49ers kicker David Akers’ story ended up in 4-point font.

Too bad. It would look nice on Paramount Pictures’ summer schedule.

Yes, Akers, 37, had the finest kicking season in NFL history this year, but that’s just the riding-off-into-the-sunset part.

The crying-in-the-shower part was exactly a year ago last week — wild-card weekend — when his Philadelphia Eagles were about to host the Green Bay Packers. The day before the game, doctors found a tumor on the ovary of (more…)

Love and Taxes

December 6, 2008

TELLING THIS STORY ON VIDEO



through-gods-eyes-book-cover

This story about my dad is from my book, Through God’s Eyes: Finding Peace and Purpose in a Troubled World.



kent-bolsta-holding-phil-in-hand

My dad always supported me no matter what. I'm four months old in this photo.


At thirty-four, I was unemployed with a wife and twelve-year-old daughter to support. I didn’t have highly marketable skills and was feeling more desperate by the day. Two months after I lost my job, my tax guy told me I needed to make a $2,500 payment to the IRS in thirty days. I was already heavily in debt and had no idea how I was going to pay that month’s rent, much less the looming IRS bill. I had to repeatedly remind myself to breathe.

A few weeks later, my dad asked me to meet him for lunch. We lived seventy miles apart so we met at a Wendy’s in Monticello, a town halfway in between. We sat down and, without question, without judgment, he (more…)