Managers can line their shelves with books on collaboration and not get as much actionable information on teamwork as they would from watching one week of competitive cycling’s annual gauntlet of pain, Le Tour de France.

Football, baseball and basketball have always been fertile ground for team-building chestnuts — but none of those pursuits hold a laser pointer to the Tour, one of the most striking displays of teamwork in all of sports. Here are just a few of the ways that the almost two-dozen nine-man teams that compete in the twenty-day July race are an exemplar of collaboration.

You’re Never Too Big To Carry Water — If there could only be one thing that you hear about team dynamics in the Tour, it should be this: Even the team’s best rider will be seen heading back to the team cars to carry water bottles back to his supporting riders, or domestiques. A step beyond buying some Isotoners for your offensive linemen, I’d say.

Business Behavior: There’s very little genuine evidence of this kind of behavior in the corporate world. If you’re the boss, don’t just go pick them up some ice cream sandwiches to soften the blow of decimating the health insurance plan, a la The Office’s misguided honcho Michael Scott. Do something when you don’t need to. Check in on team members when they are especially busy and see if there’s anything you can do to make their day a little easier. Pick them up lunch, drop something in the mail, anything.

Take Turns Shouldering the Hard Work — Riders will take turns pedaling into the wind and letting their teammates sit in their slipstream. They will often do this for a team leader, sprinter or climber so they can conserve energy until the time comes to take on their task, to make their push.

Business Behavior: Sometimes being there for the team means knowing you are working harder than the rest of the team at a given time, but trusting that they will take their turn in the hamster wheel when the time comes. If this kind of trust and respect exists within a team, it is probably well on its way to achieving its goals. And if you know that your teammate is going to have an especially rough go at the end of the month, maybe you can do what you can to pitch in and keep him from being overworked in the beginning.

Get the Lead Out – It’s a low-profile job for one of the quicker riders on a given team to lead his faster teammate out of the front of the pack a couple hundred meters before the finish with a burst of speed, then allowing his teammate to ride in his slipstream, conserve a bit of energy, and then kick out his bike to one side and put in a strong finishing burst for the win. The lead-out man is left to finish out of the glory, but in well with his teammate and the rest of the squad.

Business Behavior: It’s a fact of business life that certain jobs bring all the glory and others are destined to play out behind the scenes. Salespeople close because of the diligent research and correspondence of their coordinators. Analysts deliver excellent reports because of the number crunching and attention to detail of the metrics staff. As a manager, you should recognize everyone’s role in these victories by surprising that coordinator with the details of their work that brought the account home.

This is one of the really cool videos and cool events ever. I used to play pick-up baseball (it was really stickball, but who cares?! hehehe) back when I was a kid in our neighborhood, and I could totally empathize to the feeling a young boy feels with all the attention given them, specially when they’re playing a game they love.

This is from ImprovEverywhere, a little league baseball game is turned into a major league event. All players, coaches, and parents do not know what is happening. We worked with the league commissioner to get the kids’ names and access to the field to setup our equipment the morning of the game. He was the only one in on it. NBC Sports worked with us and got us the jumbotron and the blimp.

Check out their FB page here.

Photo by AFP

We’ve seen The Fight that made the world stand up and watch. Manny Pacquiao has silenced doubters with a scary annihilation of Ricky Hatton inside Two Lopsided Rounds that made the Eight Lopsided Rounds last December against Dela Hoya no longer a fluke (if it ever was considered one).

And whoever laughed at Freddie Roach’s comments before the fight that he would be disappointed if it goes more than 3 rounds, is eating shit now. I’m talking about you Floyd Mayweather Sr.!

With respect to Ricky and all Britons, what Bob Arum calls the greatest team in boxing history (Pacquiao, and Freddie Roach’s team), had seen and studied the tapes, come up with a flawless game plan, and executed it to perfection. Floyd Mayweather Sr. was just too busy making his poetry and just did not have a counter game plan to speak of. Bob Arum encapsulated it after the fight, “Manny Pacquiao is the pound for pound king because he has not stopped learning.”

In typical arrogant Mayweather fashion, Floyd Jr. has announced his latest “unretirement” and his fight with Juan Manuel Marquez, ON THE EVE of the Pacquiao-Hatton fight, trying to grab media mileage.

Leonard Ellerbe, Mayweather’s adviser has announced the fight. He added some fighting words, “He (Maywheather) left the sport as the best fighter in the world, he comes back as the best fighter in the world,” Ellerbe said. “(Manny) Pacquiao was never considered the best fighter while Floyd was active, so why should anything change?” He also added that the Road to the Pound for Pound title goes through Money Mayweather.

The Road to the Pound for Pound title goes through Floyd Mayweather Jr.? After watching last Saturday’s fight, I say NO, it goes through Manny Pacquiao. Have a boring fight Floyd against Juan Manuel Marquez and you wouldn’t even be considered in the running for Pacman’s last three fights. Oh, maybe Baby Floyd has watched the tapes (is it on YouTube now?) and is now shaking his head and asking himself, “Why did I ever come out of retirement??!! Now, I have to fight the guy.”

As he walks to the long-jump pit, however, Owens sees a tall, blue eyed, blond German taking practice jumps in the 26-foot range. Owens feels nervous. He is acutely aware of the Nazis’ desire to prove “Aryan superiority.” As a black son of a share cropper, he knows what it is like to feel inferior.

On his first jump, Owens inadvertently leaps from several inches beyond the takeoff board. Rattled, he fouls on his second attempt, too. One more foul and he will be eliminated. At this point, the tall German introduces himself as Luz Long.

“You should be able to qualify with your eyes closed!” he says to Owens.

For the next few moments, the African American and the white model of Nazi manhood chat together. Then Long makes a suggestion. Since the qualifying distance is only 23 feet, 5 1/2 inches, why not make a mark several inches before the takeoff board and jump from there, just to play it safe?

Owens does and qualifies easily. In the finals, Owens sets an Olympic record and earns the second of four gold medals. But who is the first person to congratulate him? Luz Long — in full view of Adolph Hitler.

Owens never again sees Long, who is later killed in World War II.

“You could melt down all the medals and cups I have,” Owens later writes, “and they wouldn’t be a plating on the 24-carat friendship I felt for Luz Long.”

Perhaps unknowingly, Luz Long taught the world a valuable lesson. Someone else put it like this:

“We can learn a lot from crayons. Some are sharp ..some are pretty…some are dull…some have weird names…and all are different colors. But they all have to learn to live in the same box.”

So do we.

I wasn’t really good at basketball. I could shoot in rare streaks, and I could defend well, but I was definitely not the star of the team. But I loved basketball. And I still do.

I play the NBA fantasy basketball games and I cheered for Boston when they played against the Lakers last year, because years ago when I was still so young to understand everything that happened on the court, I wore Boston green when they played against Laker gold.

I love my Ateneo Blue Eagles team. I was there during their dark ages when all they could win were games against NU, and some very rare glorious moments against La Salle. And I was there during their bonfire months ago when they won against La Salle. Everytime they play, I cheer my heart out and my throat hoarse.

Not everybody can be great in basketball. Only very few can play at the highest level, and every year, somebody else comes along from college to take over the precious spots of those playing in the pros.

But the rest of us become part of it still. Whether in cheering ourselves hoarse during games, or in giving moral support to players outside the court or buying team merchandise. We cry when they lose and we get that warm fuzzy feeling when they win. We take a leave from our work just to watch them during championship games. And everytime they play, we cheer our hearts out and our throat hoarse. And we will be here no matter what. Win or lose.

Because basketball?

It’s a brotherhood.

from http://www.8countnews.com/news/125/ARTICLE/1205/2008–12-10.html
Wed, 10 Dec 2008 11:43:00
Dennis Guillermo

Manny Pacquiao was so good he has some delusional Filipino boxing analysts thinking De la Hoya sold the fight.

Manny Pacquiao was so good the circus most boxing experts said The Dream match was going to be because of all the physical disadvantages the Pac Man was giving up, turned into the match all of Manny Pacquiao fans have been dreaming about.

Manny Pacquiao was so good he had Usher screaming “Yeah!” every time he landed his fists.

Manny Pacquiao was so good he actually made Bernard Hopkins sound right even when he was totally wrong. Hopkins said prior to the fight that Manny Pacquiao was going to school when he faces De la Hoya. The Executioner was right. Pacquiao went to school. He went Saturday as the school bus driver and took Oscar De la Hoya to school– finishing school that is, as he “graduated” the Golden Boy from the sport.

Manny Pacquiao is just that good.

“Still you’re my idol. Whatever happens, you’re still my idol.” Manny humbly told Oscar after the fight. Oscar responded with a nod of approval just as he had all night after the end of every round and said “No, now you’re my idol.”

The stage was set. All the stars and significant players were present to witness the passing of the baton and coronation of the new king. The old king was still feeling the heartache of a thousand razor burns it seems as he vacated his throne. No belts were passed along. What was passed along however was boxing legacy. And just like Ali, Leonard and De la Hoya before him, Manny Pacquiao has done it by taking out the current king. Is the world of pugilism ready for a Filipino to be the face of its sport? — Only if America is ready to see a black president. It’s the year of “change” after all.

Described as boxing’s drama king, Manny Pacquiao’s #1 pound for pound status not only attests to his greatness as a boxer no matter the size and weight. It is also the measure of his heart, pound for pound. His chests coming into the fight against De la Hoya appeared significantly bigger against the Golden Boy, only to symbolize the bigger heart he had encased within them. With every beat, pound for pound, Pacquiao has demonstrated unmatched courage and valor on his way to boxing’s pinnacle as he went through all the greats the sport could throw at him.

Saturday’s was a moment only seen in movies and considered milestones in sports. Think about Michael Jordan beating the Lakers and Magic Johnson; Peyton Manning beating Tom Brady and the Patriots and winning his first Superbowl; Tiger Woods overtaking Jack Nicklaus. Pacquiao now breathes together with the elite in that rarified air. He no longer is just the fighting pride of the philippines. As evidenced with the support he’s received from all over, from celebrities to Mexicans, to boxing fans and boxers all over the world, Pacquiao has crossed over.

Whether he would receive similar success as De la Hoya as boxing’s mainstream face and figure remains to be seen. But for now, one thing is certain; there’s a new sheriff in town, and his name is Manny Pacquiao.

King Pacquiao.

THE WORLD’S EYES ARE FIXED on the Beijing Olympics to witness the feats of world champions. But the Olympics really serve to remind us that champions are not only found in the sports arena, they are also found in other areas of life.

The statement is taken very seriously by the International Olympics Committee (IOC). It had convened a congress to gather world champions in the field of politics, science, the arts, business and sports to answer the question: “What makes a champion?”

Marissa Adviento, a sports psychologist from the Ateneo de Manila University, was the lone Filipino delegate to this pre-Olympic congress held a few days before the opening of the Beijing Olympics.

“The idea was to search for the common traits in the lives of champions and find out what makes a champion,” she explains.

According to Adviento, champions are made out of adversity.

“All the speakers in the congress said the one thing that made them champions was adversity, the experience of tremendous pain and trials. It’s like you can’t be a champion without adversity,” she says.

Read the rest of the article here…

Copyright 2008 Philippine Daily Inquirer. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

The latest “controversy” about the Beijing Olympic Games is about the cute little girl who sang “Ode to the Motherland” during the Opening Ceremonies. It turns out she just lip synched for the real singer who was backstage. Olympic officials made the switch because the seven year old singer had broken teeth! Wow. That’s like Charice Pempengco not winning in a local singing tilt because her competition looks better than her!

This article is from the Chicago Tribune.

Tell me what you think about all this.

The Age of Fake
Julia Keller

No, really: Were you upset about the Chinese kid who lip-synched “Ode to the Motherland” during the opening ceremonies of the Olympic Games in Beijing? Or about the soul-stirring fireworks at the same event–many of which were, we now know, digitally inserted to make for better pictures?

Because a lot of people weren’t at all troubled. Precious few of our fellow citizens, when informed of the televised fraud, flung their knockoff Kate Spade handbags to the ground and stomped on them in exasperation, or smacked a fist against their Botox-benumbed foreheads in mute protest at this appalling lack of respect for the true, the real, the authentic.

Most people, it seems, just muttered, “Whatever.”

Because we live in the Age of Fake. Wait, there’s more: We live in the Age of Fake (And, Like, Your Point Is?).

So much of what we encounter is rigged, tarted up, tricked out–and we don’t much care. The fix is in. And frankly, we seem to sort of like it that way.

We live in an era of the fake photo (“Photoshopping” is not only a new verb, but an accepted practice), of the fake memoir, of fake blogs with names such as “The Secret Diary of Steve Jobs.” We live in a time of fake reality shows, of fake resumes, of fake home-run records (paging Barry Bonds), of fake reputations ( John Edwards, devoted husband), of fake stunts in big movies. (Without computer-generated action scenes to keep them astir, summer blockbusters might have had to return to that hopelessly retro element known as–hold onto your pith helmets, girls and boys!–dialogue.)

And now comes the revelation that the cute little girl who sang her way into the world’s heart at the opening ceremonies actually … didn’t. That is, 9-year-old Lin Miaoke was there, all right, and it looked as if she were belting out the tune, but the pipes belonged to seven-year-old Yang Peiyi.

The problem with Peiyi? Crooked teeth, according to published reports.

But few people seem riled by the switcheroo. Nor was there much of an outcry after the 2006 Games when, the Associated Press reminded us, it was revealed that Luciano Pavarotti had lip-synched his aria.

Fake doesn’t seem to bother us much anymore. Fake is an accepted part of life. Fake sells.

It’s true that some of the fakery does kick up a fuss–remember James Frey and his public flogging at the hands of Oprah Winfrey, when his book “A Million Little Pieces” was discovered to be largely fictional? Yet our outrage apparently has a short shelf life: Frey is back in a big way. He recently published a long novel called “Bright Shiny Morning.”

It’s also true that Americans have always had a bit of a soft spot for fast-talking shysters, charming con men and charismatic hucksters such as Harold Hill in “The Music Man,” the 1957 musical about a gloriously fake band leader. And critics, don’t forget, are always decrying canned laugher in sitcoms, but TV audiences have been quite comfortable with it for decades.

But there’s a new tolerance for–even celebration of–the fake. Two recently published books make the point. “Can You Ever Forgive Me?” (Simon & Schuster) is Lee Israel’s account of how and why she faked letters from famous people–Noel Coward, Dorothy Parker, Louise Brooks–and sold them to dealers. “The Man Who Made Vermeers” (Harcourt) by Jonathan Lopez is about the famous art forger, Han van Meegeren–who not only faked paintings, but faked his story about faking the paintings and became a legend.

In his new essay collection, “The Thing Itself: On the Search for Authenticity” (Riverhead), Richard Todd writes about “the very feeling of unreality” that seems to be afoot in today’s world, the sense that we have become hopelessly disassociated from the real, the actual. “Our interest in sincerity,” he writes, “has occurred in waves–like much cultural history, it’s both cyclical and cumulative, like a wheel turning, showing different sides of itself … It is true that life has few gifts (to give or receive) more gratifying than unfeigned laughter or surprise.”

Or the innocent voice of a child, floating over a packed stadium and into the living rooms of people all around the world, her radiant face a symbol of simple truth and honesty and–

Um … Never mind.

I think David will be invited here in the philippines to endorse some products, like Erik Morales. The same could not be said about Manuel “Crybaby” Marquez.

Here’s a story from The Chicago Tribune about what happened after the fight…

Boxer David Diaz Keeps His Head Up In Defeat
Best qualities show even in brutal defeat

By Melissa Isaacson | Tribune staff reporter
8:36 PM CDT, June 29, 2008

LAS VEGAS — The ambulance was waiting, but David Diaz wasn’t quite ready to get in. Most of the blood had been rinsed off, and he was back in his jeans and T-shirt. But the damage was graphic and even more shocking 45 minutes after it had been inflicted.

The question was what damage had been done to his psyche.

“I’m OK,” he said, reacting to the pained expression of someone studying him, the deep gashes just below his right eyebrow and bridge of his nose that were still oozing, the eyes already blackened and half-closed, the sliced and swollen lips, his entire face a map of gore and pain.

Amazingly, the smile was still intact.

Diaz had called Saturday night’s fight against Manny Pacquiao the biggest of his career, and there was little doubt of that. They were already anointing Pacquiao the best fighter on the planet, possessed of skills that already had won him championship belts in three other weight classes.

Even though Diaz was the defending world lightweight champion with a gaudy record, the criticism was that the Chicagoan hadn’t fought anyone, that he was a plodder getting by on heart.

They were right about that last part.

Diaz had walked away from the sport eight years ago because he had lost that element so crucial to his boxing. He couldn’t focus on training when he was mourning his older brother, who had died of AIDS, and worrying about his mother, Basilica, in desperate need of a new kidney.

But two years away was enough, and with his mother stronger after a transplant and the encouragement of his family and his future wife, he went back to the gym and re-emerged a new man and a new fighter.

It was not his fault that he had made his mark and found success with inspiring durability and toughness, that he had found support and popularity within the sport and the Mexican community because of his spirit and kindness, that he had continued winning without a lethal knockout punch. And he was not apologizing.

So there he was Saturday night, a 4–1 underdog, seemingly half the population of the Philippines filling the Mandalay Bay Events Center to cheer countryman Pacquiao, a pay-per-view audience looking on.

Jogging toward the ring, Diaz rested his gloves on the shoulders of the diminutive Anselmo Diaz, his father and the man he called his hero.

Diaz had pointed out his dad at a news conference Wednesday. “I love you, Papi,” he told him.

Diaz climbed into the ring looking proud and defiant. But before long, even his opponent was worried for him as blow after blow landed — and landed hard, opening cuts on his face that eventually stained both boxers’ trunks pink. Gamely, Diaz hung in, even tried to mount his own offensive in the second round. But indeed, this was a truly gifted fighter, and as the crowd screamed, “Manny, Manny,” their hero demonstrated his mesmerizing speed and vicious force.

Diaz had no chance. So why wasn’t the referee stopping the fight? Why wasn’t the ring doctor or his own corner?

“I thought they could have stopped the fight sooner,” the dignified Pacquiao said. “I asked the referee, and he told me, ‘Go ahead and continue.’ ”

The pro-Pacquiao postfight crowd, with its typical collection of handlers and fans and assorted hangers-on, roared with laughter.

In fact, Diaz stayed on his feet into the ninth round before a left cross to the jaw finally knocked him flat, because for better or worse, this is his gift. And whether consciously or not, he was demonstrating to those watching Saturday and those who will tune in for the replay Thursday night on HBO precisely why he was the defending title-holder.

It was not lost on his opponent, who tried to pull him to his feet after the TKO was official.

“I was surprised he didn’t go down before that,” Pacquiao said. “He was the toughest opponent I’ve had.”

Standing next to the ambulance, Diaz grinned at the suggestion that there ever had been a point at which he knew the fight was over.

“I always think I have a chance,” he said. “I always think I can pull it out. Sometimes I think I can do it to the point where I can almost see the shoreline. And then I went under.”

This was not a man in denial. Rather, he was in a place only those at the highest echelon of athletic competition can truly understand, the feeling of satisfaction amid the pain and disappointment, when you know you have given everything you have and simply lost to someone better.

“The beauty of this sport is that you have to go through all of it, even some of it that will kill you,” Diaz said. “I trained really hard, but you have to learn how to win and how to lose.”

He turned to get into the ambulance, laughing that he’d much rather be hanging out with his family and friends.

“They still love me,” he said. “They’re just glad I’m still alive. Everyone thought I was going to die.”

But back to Chris Paul…

Ask people who are successful, and they will surely tell you a story of defying odds, and going through pain and feeling that life has forsaken them. Real gold is tested through real fire.

Here is Chris Paul’s story.

1) In This Hoax, Maybe the Joke is on Us
2) The Blue Eagle Season That Was