You Don’t See This Headline Everyday! (I Didn’t Even Know Christ Played Basketball)

Today, as I was reading the New York Times on my Kindle, I came upon a peculiar sight. The headline read: “Christ the King 54, Nazareth 53: For Nazareth, a Loss Not Reflected in the Score.” Since I don’t follow New York high school basketball, I wasn’t quite prepared for what I read. As it turns out, Nazareth High School girls basketball team was expected to win this game, so it was an upset.

Moreover, there is a sweet, sad human interest story here. It turns out the Nazareth, the defending city and state champion, lost its coach in January. She died unexpectedly of at heart attack at the age of 38.

I did a little search on the Internet to learn more about this story, and discovered another surprising headline. I guess Jesus’ game must be getting better as he grows up.

Good News for “Sound Guys” Everywhere

I’ve got good news for “sound guys” everywhere. Even if you’re not a “sound guy,” you might want to pay attention. But, first, let me explain what I’m talking about.

In my experience as a pastor and speaker, “sound guy” is virtually a technical term for the person who oversees the audio for a lecture or concert or similar presentation. Yes, I know that “sound guy” might seem sexist since there are plenty of female audio techs. But I have heard women refer to themselves ironically as the “sound guy.” And I’ve never heard “sound gal” or “sound girl.” If you don’t like “sound guy,” you can always go with the generic “sound tech” or “sound person.”

A "sound guy" hard at work. Picture from http://www.flickr.com/photos/rosengrant/.

At any rate, “sound guys” are almost always under-valued. In fact, they’re often ignored completely until something goes wrong. Then they are the recipients of all measure of scorn: “Why can’t the sound guy ever get it right?” “What’s wrong with the stupid sound guy?” Etc. etc. etc.

To be sure, there are some folks out there running sound who haven’t been well-trained. Others might not have the “ears” for the job. I once worked with a “sound guy” who was literally hard of hearing. No wonder he tended to turn up the volume too much. Human error is always possible when it comes to audio tech, especially when set ups are complicated.  But, in my experience, even the most talented “sound guys” face unforeseen problems. When they set things up and do a sound check, everything is prefect. But, when the show starts or the sermon begins, the audio demons get to work.

Last night’s Academy Award show was no exception. The sound problems were legion (or, perhaps caused by Legion). First, the orchestra was so loud that it was difficult to hear the lyrics of Billy Crystal’s opening number. And when people came forward to receive their awards, the music overwhelmed the voiceover that explained who received what award for what activity.

About half-way through the program, the too-loud-music problem was fixed. But it was replaced by tinny feedback. It seemed as if the sound was so loud that it was just about to get shrieking feedback from the speakers. You could hear what people were saying, but with an obnoxious electronic echo. That problem continued throughout the rest of the evening.

This morning, I did a Google search to make sure what I heard was widespread and not just limited to my own ears or television set. Indeed, people were Tweeting their complaints all during the Oscar show. It was a worldwide phenomenon.

So, why did I call this post “Good News for ‘Sound Guys’ Everywhere”? I supposed I could just as well have entitled it “Bad News for ‘Sound Guys’ Everywhere.” But here’s my point. Last night’s program was viewed by several hundred million people throughout the world, perhaps even by a billion. It is one of the biggest deals on television. No doubt the sound equipment was top notch (even in the Chapter 11 Kodak Theatre). And no doubt the “sound guys” were the best in the business. Yet, even with the top people using the top equipment, the sound quality was still a mess. If you’re a perfectionist “sound guy,” I suppose this is bad news. It suggests that no matter what you do, you’ll never get it quite right. But, if you’re a “sound guy” who is tired of feeling as if you’re a failure every time something goes wrong, if you’re doing your best and still stumble over unforeseen problems, then take heart! No matter how hard you try and how well you do, there will always be problems of one sort or another. And, much of the time, these will not be your fault. They often have to do with technical flaws that you could not predict. Sound equipment, even the best stuff, is touchy and unforgiving.

If you work with “sound guys,” or if you listen to what they produce – and that’s most of us – let the case of the 2012 Academy Awards program be a reminder to regard your “sound guys” with grace. Even if sound equipment is not forgiving, at least those of us who benefit from it can be.

Mystery Man Who Changed My Life Dies

Have you ever had the experience of hearing about someone who died, someone you never met, yet someone who had a significant impact on your life? Though you never knew this person, you feel a combination of loss and gratitude.

I had that experience a couple of days ago while scanning the New York Times obituary. I learned that Steve Kordek died, and I felt strangely moved.

Who was Steve Kordek? Let me give you the full title of the obituary column: “Steve Kordek, a Pinball Innovator, Dies at 100.”

The Space Mission pinball game was one that Kordek worked on while with Williams.

Now, I haven’t played a game of pinball in years. But when I was in college, I spent several hundred hours around the pinball machine in my dorm. Frankly, I wasn’t that good at the game, so the majority of my time was spent watching and cheering on my roommates and other pinball wizards. I have Steve Kordek to thank for those good times of male bonding.

Kordek’s story has some fascinating elements. He did not invent the pinball machine. Rather, at one point he made some crucial innovations that turned the obscure game of pinball into a widely-enjoyed pastime.

The story of how Kordek got into this business is a delightful one. Here’s how the obituary reads:

On a visit to his hometown in 1937, he was walking down a street without an umbrella when a torrential rain forced him to step into the lobby of a building he was passing. It was the Genco company. A receptionist asked if he was looking for a job.

“I had never seen a pin game before in my life,” Mr. Kordek told The Chicago Tribune in 2009. For 45 cents an hour, he was soon doing soldering on the company’s production line. He studied at the Coyne Electric School at night and began working his way up through the Genco engineering department.

He ended up working on pinball machines for six decades, at Genco, Bally, and Williams.

Today, I am wondering at how strange life can be, when an accidental step into a lobby changes, not just one life, but a whole industry and millions of lives. And I’m thankful for the creativity of a man who made a small difference in my life.

 

Prodigious Procrastination and the Great Big Box

When I walked into my office suite today, I saw a great, big box. According to the printing on the box, it contains a new printer for the office. That’s good news, because our old printer is biting the dust, day by day, bite by dusty bite.

There’s another bit of good news here. Where I work, we have an IT team of top-notch experts who can do things like setting up new printers in their sleep. Therefore, I will not be spending the rest of the week trying to get the printer to work.

When I first saw the printer box, I was reminded of an experience I had about twenty-five years ago. My wife and I had bought a small home in the San Fernando Valley of Southern California. This “post-WWII” house included a modest, detached garage, which I determined to turn into my workshop. Though I had a decent collection of tools back then. With ample space afforded by the garage, I was ready to add larger, power tools, manly items like a table saw and a drill press.

A Sears radial arm saw with an attached cabinet. This looks to be exactly like the saw I bought 25 years ago.

At about that time, Sears was having a sale on radial arms saws. If you’re not familiar with tools, you may not know this sort of saw. It has a wide variety of uses, and is especially good for cross-cutting long boards. The sale was a good one, as I recall, something like 40% off. Radial arm saws aren’t cheap, but I knew I would get lots of use out of it, and with caution, it would last me for a lifetime. So I bought a deluxe saw, one that came with a large storage cabinet built into it.

The box for the saw and its cabinet was huge, perhaps three-and-a-half feet tall, three feet wide, and five feet long. It was also extremely heavy, and had to be delivered to my home. The delivery people placed it in my empty garage, because there’s no way I could have moved it very far on my own.

Excited to set up my new saw, I opened the box and took out the assembly instruction booklet. I call it a booklet today. At the time it felt like a modest telephone book. Thumbing through page after page of detailed instructions for how to put the radial arm saw together, I felt overwhelmed. “I can’t do this today,” I thought. “I’ll have to wait until I have more time to put this saw together.” I was disappointed, but not crushed. I put the instructions back in the huge box and planned on attacking the assembly on the weekend.

But the weekend came and went. And then the next weekend came and went. And then the next month. And the next. Meanwhile, I had lots of home improvement projects to do, and found that the giant saw box served nicely as an extra workbench. I used to joke with myself that I had the most expensive workbench in the world. Talk about prodigious procrastination!

When my wife and I moved from North Hollywood to Irvine, California, my “workbench” came along for the ride. Soon, it filled the garage in our new home. My wife had plans for that house, plans that included lots of crown moulding. Since I didn’t own a chop saw, I knew that the best tool for cutting long strips of crown moulding was . . . you guessed it, a radial arm saw.

So, after four years of feeling ashamed because of that unassembled saw, I knew it was time to tackle my Mt. Everest. I arose early one Saturday morning, opened the box for the first time in four years, and took out the intimidating instructions. I spent the better part of the day deciphering them, patiently assembling the saw and calibrating it for cutting. Sometime in the afternoon, I finished. And you know what, the saw worked. Flawlessly.

I still have that saw. It still works well. Suffice it to say, I did have to build another workbench, though. I used the saw.