What if our Best Athletes played Football?

World Cup 574x300 What if our Best Athletes played Football?

The US Men’s team came up short but they fought hard against a better team. That’s all we can ask for as a country. Maximum effort and no excuses. If we were to be honest here, our squad just isn’t World class yet. Outside of Tim Howard, who the commentators on ESPN said “doesn’t deserve to be on the losing side”, our team isn’t quite on the level as the 8 remaining countries.

Most kids in the US start out playing soccer and for countless reasons end up drifting into more popular sports like American Football, Basketball, Baseball, and Hockey. Other great competitors include Track and Field, Golf, and Tennis.

Until Soccer becomes a more mainstream and lucrative career path here in the US, I’m not sure if our talent pool will be able to match the rest of the World.

I mean, if you looking at our current roster, quite a few players didn’t even grow up stateside. We’re essentially putting Europe’s B squad out onto the field and hopping for miracles to happen. That’s not a sustainable game plan. The US will eventually need to develop better prospects as Baseball Teams do in their Farm Systems.

Our best Athletes in the US aren’t playing soccer. Until we as a country put out best foot forward, we’ll continue to squeeze into the round of 16 and “hope for the best”.

Observations and Criticisms aside, I’m proud of what the US Team was able to accomplish this year and I look forward to what’s in store down the road.


Why Good Leaders Make You Feel Safe

leadership Why Good Leaders Make You Feel Safe

Ask many employees why they are unhappy at the work place and more often than not, it will have something to do with leadership.  If you don’t trust management it will be very difficult to perform for them 40+ hours a week.  When a supervisor doesn’t do what they say they were going to do or transparency is non-existent, trust will be broken.

Author Simone Sinek delivered one of the most brilliant Ted Talks I’ve seen in quite some time.  His distinction between Leaders and Authorities should be required viewing for any executive.

Leadership is a choice. It is not a rank. I know many people at the senior-most levels of organizations who are absolutely not leaders. They are authorities, and we do what they say because they have authority over us, but we would not follow them. And I know many people who are at the bottoms of organizations who have no authority and they are absolutely leaders, and this is because they have chosen to look after the person to the left of them, and they have chosen to look after the person to the right of them. This is what a leader is.

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It’s been a very busy week here at Writers and Hunters so today as we grind out the workweek, I wanted to show some love to the hometown and local legend, Chuck Brown.   GoGo music, (especially if you reside outside of the DC area) may not be your cup of tea but everyone finds themselves tapping their foot to this classic song, GoGo Swing at some point or another.

So as you enjoy this beautiful Wednesday, show some love to DC and Chuck Grown.  Get your groove on and remember, the weekend is almost here!

Have a good day peeps!


Your Egg Sandwich Smells Nasty


It was the start of week two for Allison at Bergeson Financial Partners—a student loan company in Montgomery County Maryland that hires recent college graduates to harass recent college graduates for the money they owe. It’s a thrilling position. Gray cubicles, gray carpet, gray chairs, light gray walls, the only element of color on the Bergeson floor was a crummy orange couch that looked like a bed bug sponge. It had come to this for the twenty-three year old comedian. Writing and great test scores got Allison a four year scholarship to American University—where she dropped out of the English department after one year to pursue her dreams. But after years of doing stand-up at just about every club in the D.C. Area, Allison had run into a serious problem. She had lost her funny.

Allison shuffled her way to the office on top of black ice. She was wrapped up in a bubble coat, scarf, knit hat, gloves, and leggings beneath her blue jeans. Bam! Allison shuffled just a little too fast. Some of her co-workers pointed and laughed at Allison, who was struggling to get up off of the slick concrete. Finally on her feet again, she couldn’t help but think about the conversation that led to this job.

“I’m not going back to school,” Allison said to her Mother—a single mom that worked for the federal government. “That degree would have saved your ass”, Her Mom snapped back as she tossed the Washington Post into her daughter’s chest.  “I don’t want to hear about anymore of this writer’s block nonsense. Get a real job or fill out a college application, or do both, there’s a thought.” Allison flipped through the pages and landed on the job classifieds. Within minutes she had setup an interview with Bergeson—she had a gift for marketing herself to anyone. Unfortunately for her, marketing skills don’t help much on stage at the D.C. Improv—the latest scene of a heinous crime known as telling dreadful jokes. In the nightclub industry, word had traveled fast that Allison Henley was bad for business.  She had been dragged through the mud for good reason. No one would book her.

She sat down in her five by seven cubicle cell and took off the fifteen pound jacket revealing her petite figure. Allison was easy on the eyes, naturally attractive but hid behind what her mother called a “tomboy curtain”.  She had a great smile too but you would never know in this lifeless office. Lestor, her annoying middle-aged boss, dropped the days’ list of names on her desk.  Allison skimmed through the document in search of anyone familiar—a procedure that all employees had to strictly follow.

“Hi Allison!, Happy Monday!”, Fiona said, popping her head above the cubical with a smile too bright for a dead end job. “Good Morning”, Allison murmured, not wanting to start any kind of conversation with the office cheerleader. But it didn’t work. Fiona covered her weekend from start to finish, not forgetting to leave out important details like which coupons saved her the most money at the grocery store or that Wal-Mart stopped selling her favorite stockings.

Then it hit Allison, like a cloud of tear gas, almost choking her. It was the perfect combination of what seemed to be spoiled milk, funky gym socks, and familiar spices, like sprinkling ginger and garlic powder on top of toxic waste. Allison stood up and peered over into Fiona’s cubicle. There it was, yet again.  A hot and sloppy mess. Lightly scrambled eggs dripping with goopy mystery ketchup, green peppers, onions, and a sausage patty, all were squished between a toasted “everything” bagel. The special red sauce oozed out of the sides as Fiona took a bite.

Allison had asked the thirty-year-old secretary to not bring it into the office again, but convincing a cheerleader to betray her home team meal proved ineffective.  Fiona had been bringing these turds in ever since she first started working at Bergeson three months ago. Everyone on the floor complained but it was useless. Rumor had it that Fiona was sleeping with Lestor, which meant the egg sandwiches had protection.

“Hey, excuse me”, Allison said with a wrinkled up face. “Yeah, what’s up?”, Fiona mumbled with a mouth full of egg. “I know I’ve mentioned this to you before, and I hate to be a jerk, but your egg sandwich smells nasty so I would really appreciate it if you could stop bringing it into the office.” Fiona looked at Allison, puzzled and confused. “I’m sorry it bothers you but, as I’ve mentioned to you before, I can’t start my day without a good breakfast. Fiona swallowed a huge chunk of shit I mean egg and let out a quiet yet deadly burp that could be bottled up and used as roach killer. Allison sat back down at her desk to avoid throwing up mercilessly on Fiona’s head.


Another egg sandwich. “This must end today”, Allison thought. She browsed through celebrity gossip blogs trying to conjure up a solution to the reoccurring problem. She needed a great idea—something that would stick. Allison’s mother would send witty and sarcastic letters to restaurants after having a bad experience. Gift cards seemed to always flow into their mailbox. Her mother’s letters were legendary. They would end up being the inspiration to Allison’s unique and successful stand-up routine.  Allison would start off by reciting a letter that she wrote to a Fortune 500 company or blundering posh individual that did something stupid, speaking in the first person from the perspective of the fictional characters she created. “A group letter”, Allison said, with a mischievous smile. She pulled out a notebook and began freestyling on the page.

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