Weekend Words: "Harvard? You've Got to Be Kidding Me!"

       I read an excellent article in the Washington Post about a month ago. Sports writer John Feinstein wrote about a Harvard basketball player who had followed an unlikely path to get to the Ivy League school. His father, Darryl Webster, “was raised by my grandparents...My grandfather never got beyond the fourth grade. I was lucky to graduate from high school. I had a 2.0 grade-point average and bad SATs.”[1] But the George Washington University coach took a chance on this struggling young man and brought him to the university. Darryl Webster didn’t have a stellar career at GW, and the coach who took a chance on him was fired after four years. But the coach had encouraged Darryl and helped him succeed academically, and in the end Darryl graduated with a degree in sociology. Darryl’s son Christian, now playing for Harvard, faced some of the same challenges: “I went from a public school in the inner city to a jacket-and-tie school [the Landon School] on 75 acres of land that looked like a college campus. It was a big adjustment.” Yet now Christian, whose father was the first person in his family to graduate from college, is attending Harvard University.    

  

       As I read Feinstein’s article, I was reminded of a young man named James Brown who played basketball at DeMatha High School for my godfather, Morgan Wooten. At the beginning of his senior year, James was one of the most highly recruited basketball players in the country, being recruited by Dean Smith at UNC, John Wooden at UCLA, and “Lefty” Driesell at UMD. Lefty even took out a full-page ad in the Washington Post to try and persuade James to come to his university. Imagine my shock as an eight-year-old, basketball-obsessed boy when I heard James announce he had chosen to play at Harvard. 

   

       Because Morgan was my godfather, I got the chance to ask James why he had chosen Harvard over all the other schools. He replied, “Little Doonie [a reference to my dad], it means more to me to be ‘James Brown, Harvard graduate’ than it does to be ‘J.B., professional basketball player.’” 

       I couldn’t understand the significance of that choice at the time, but I sure understand it now. 

      James’ pro basketball career was cut short, but he has had a very successful career in sports broadcasting. He is the same James Brown you have seen on national TV as a host and chief analyst the NFL on Fox pregame show with Howie Long, Terry Bradshaw and Jimmy Johnson. He is a three-time Emmy winner for his work in sports broadcasting. He is a published author and minority owner of the Washington Nationals. In 2006, he was named one of the NCAA’s 100 most influential student athletes. And he has used that Harvard degree to serve as a role model and mentor to countless kids nationwide. 

Have a great weekend, 
Ro

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[1] “Basketball opens doors for the Websters.” The Washington Post, January 16, 2011 http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2011/01/15/AR2011011503792.html

Weekend Words - This Teacher Deserved the Biggest Shiny Red Apple

       My high school football coach was quite a terror on the field. He was very demanding and would frequently yell at his players and berate them. He was an excellent coach, but I always wondered what kind of teacher he would be without all of the pressure to win that falls on any coach. 

       During my junior year, I found out what kind of teacher he was off the field. When I walked into his history class, I met a completely different man. From day one my coach encouraged me to learn and gave me positive reinforcement as I did. He told me he believed in me and that I was intelligent enough to get my grades up and get a scholarship to play football in college. No teacher had ever taken an interest in me like this before, and I could count on one hand the number of teachers who had told me I was smart.

      

       I earned good grades in his class, and his positive encouragement helped me get good grades in most of my other classes as well. He continued to check up on me even after I was no longer in his class. 

       It was an amazing contrast between the coach and the teacher. I am thankful I was able to see the difference, and benefit from the lessons taught by both of his personas. His influence off the field proved to be more important to me in the long haul, however. I’m not sure where I would be today if this teacher had not taken an interest in me as more than just a football player. 

       I’ve often thought about the powerful influences teachers can have on our lives. If you were lucky enough to have one like the one I described, don’t wait 30 years to thank them. Pick up the phone or send them an e-mail today. 

       I would like to give my sincerest thanks to the teacher and coach who changed my life, Marvin Garlick.

Have a great weekend,

Ro

Truly the "World's Best Cheesesteaks"

       Thank you to all of my readers for the great response to my "Ooh, Ooh Jerry's" post. Due to this overwhelming response, I wanted to share another Jerry's story with you.

       In the early days when I first started going to the Jerry's by my office I would often see a group of executives eating lunch there. I found out later that they were the heads of a large government contracting firm located in the office building next to the Jerry's restaurant. I discovered this because they came to tour another office building that I was leasing.

       The building I was leasing seemed perfect for their company. It was newer than their current building, would be less expensive for them to lease, had more amenities and was in a much better location. We had a deal, right? The owner of the building I was leasing sure thought we did. However, in the end they decided to stay in their current building.

       The owner of my building was incredulous. "How could we not get this deal?" he asked me. "Name one thing about my building that wasn't better than where they currently are." My answer stunned him: "There's no Jerry's."

       I explained to the owner how much those executives loved that Jerry's by their building. He refused to believe me, of course. He had lost a deal because his building didn't have a Jerry's next door? That was ridiculous. Interestingly enough, all those years later when I started eating at that Jerry's again who did I see? The founder of that government contracting company, a little grayer around the temples but otherwise exactly the same, holding court in his favorite spot with a couple of young executives.

      I found myself unconsciously humming the "Ooh, Ooh Jerry's" jingle, thinking about that building owner who had so refused to believe that those executives would choose Jerry's Subs and Pizza over his building.

- Ro

Weekend Words: Deja vu All Over Again

        I recently attended McShea’s top producers dinner at a fine restaurant in Frederick, The Tasting Room. It was truly a five-star dining experience, and I enjoyed it immensely. But as I ate my mouth-watering filet I was reminded of what the special dining treat had been when I was growing up: a yearly trip to McDonalds, where my brother and sisters and I each got our own sandwich but had to split up the French fries.

 

       One year my uncle Jack, founder of McShea and Company, coached his sons’ little league baseball team to victory in the championship game. I was in the stands watching, and he invited me to join the team for their post-game celebration. Uncle Jack treated the entire group to Roy Rodgers, which at the time was basically Ruth’s Chris to me! I can’t tell you how thrilled we all were. 

       I brought up my memories to the table, and everyone laughed and nodded. My cousin Jack Jr. commented how big a deal it had been when he was a kid that Uncle Jack would take their family to Hot Shoppes after church on Sundays. All these years later, eating at one of the nicest restaurants I have ever been to, and we still remembered how special these simple treats were to us when we were kids. And there we were, gathered around the table with Uncle Jack once again, celebrating another win. As Yogi Berra would say, it was “déjà vu all over again.” 

       As the night wound down my cousins Tim and Jack Jr. reminisced about their lack of success at competitive swimming when they were kids. They were always better than I was at baseball, but swimming had been my game. I wondered if that would come up. Suddenly Uncle Jack looked over at me from the head of the table and said, “Now there was a swimmer – he broke a county record when he was 8 years old!” Everyone at the table turned and looked my way. Over two billion dollars of real estate transactions had been completed by the people at this table, but none of that seemed to matter. In that moment I was more proud of my swim record from more than 40 years ago. And more importantly, I was proud that my Uncle Jack had acknowledged it. 

      A perfect way to end a truly special evening. Thanks again, Uncle Jack.

Have a great weekend,

Ro

Weekend Words - Always Take Care of the Regulars

       Years ago while in college and working at a local bar I got some good advice from the bar’s proprietor. He said, “Son, whatever you do take good care of the regulars. If you take care of them, they will take care of you. They will be your best tippers, and if they are happy with your service they will bring their friends with them next time and refer others to your place.” 

       This advice has served me very well in the business world. I frequently try to go out of my way to assist my clients with whatever they need. When they call, they are always priority #1. True to the bar owner’s wisdom, when I take good care of my clients they often refer me to friends and business partners. I read once that in business, 80% of your sales will come from 20% of your clients. If that is indeed true then it shows why it is so important to take care of the “regulars.” 

       Below I’ve included part of one of my favorite songs, Billy Joel’s “Piano Man.” He wrote it while working as a lounge player at a piano bar in Los Angeles after his first album failed to find an audience. Billy Joel was a legitimate musician, and he had played much larger and more important gigs than a piano bar. But he treated the regulars right, taking the time to get to know them. And, as he recounts in this famous song, they treated him right in return.

“Piano Man” by Billy Joel  

It's nine o'clock on a Saturday
the regular crowd shuffles in
There's an old man sitting next to me
Makin' love to his tonic and gin
He say, Son can you play me a memory
I'm not really sure how it goes
But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes

[Chorus]
Da da da de de da
da da de de da da da
Sing us a song, you're the piano man
sing us a song tonight
Well, we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us feelin' alright

Now John at the bar is a friend of mine
He gets me my drinks for free
And he's quick with a joke or to light up your smoke
But there's someplace that he'd rather be
He says Bill, I believe this is killing me
As the smile ran away from his face
Well I'm sure that I could be a movie star
If I could get out of this place

Sing us a song, you're the piano man
Sing us a song tonight.
Well, we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us feelin' alright.

It's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday,
And the manager gives me a smile
'Cause he knows that it's me they've been coming to see
To forget about life for awhile.
And the piano sounds like a carnival
And the microphone smells like a beer
And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar
And say "Man, what are you doin' here?"

Have a great weekend,

Ro