"Why is everyone talking about mental health all of a sudden? Why is this such a big deal?"
My column in this same mental-health space must not have resonated after the same person told me last year, "I don't want you to be depressed anymore," as if I had a choice.
I promised myself that this year's recap of another three-week mental health sabbatical would be much less dreary, and a lot more upbeat.
Whereas last year's road trip was out of a state of emergency, to some degree, this year felt more like preventative maintenance in the semblance of a much-needed annual getaway. Truth is, I started planning this year's trip the moment I got back last summer, knowing the small lake house in the same tiny town in upstate Michigan was a perfect mind-cleansing destination thanks to two very kind individuals.
Whether or not you feel you're battling mental health issues, I highly recommend you disappear from your everyday routine, turning your phone to "do not disturb" and prioritizing your well-being.
I compare it to physical therapy and the gym.
An injury will send you to PT. However, maintaining your physical health by working out could help prevent injuries and keep you out of physical therapy, right?
Well, a mental health injury could find you needing therapy as a necessity. But a proactive approach that blends continual therapeutic dialogue and a little R&R now and then can help build a strong mindset.
Thus, as I did last July, I folded down the seats of my compact crossover SUV, packed it tight with Kahlua - my trusty steed, ahem Daschund - riding shotgun, and ventured on another road trip.
Last year on this same cross-country, mental-health sabbatical, I streamed The Sopranos to help pass the time for a 2,100-mile jaunt.
This year, I chose Friday Night Lights, which I've watched a few times and knew I wouldn't need to "see" the screen. Once again, I had the gang from Dillon, Texas, accompanying me to Michigan.
"Clear Eyes. Full Hearts. Can't Lose."
Truth be told, fictitious or not, watching the show reminded me of what football can do for people. Along with the competitive spirit, there is camaraderie, there are bonds and relationships, there are learning mechanisms, and there is respect among players and people from a small town.
Thus, both there and back, it seemed only fitting I pit stop in college and pro towns to visit football stadiums, while possibly sneaking in a few to breathe in the aroma of football.
For love of football
There's something about the fragrance of fresh-cut grass sweating with morning dew that rekindles childhood memories from 1978 and '79.
In my first year of Pop Warner the games took place on Saturday mornings on the Cheyenne campus at the College of Southern Nevada; the second year our home field was Chaparral High School.
God, I loved playing football, for the two years I was allowed to play. They're still some of my most memorable days from innocence. Wish I could say there were more, but the Raiders and Buckeyes were the only jerseys I'd wear as a child.
That second year, the Chaparral-based Buckeyes were the team to beat, as we won the Jr. Pee Wee division and earned the right to play Orange County's champions of the same level in Southern California.
And since our quarterback didn't travel with us, I shifted from tight end to under center, as my number was called upon to lead the Buckeyes on offense.
Outside of finishing in a 0-0 tie and the public address announcer mispronouncing my last name, I was proud of the effort, having completed 4 of 6 pass attempts for 64 yards.
Yes, I remember.
I told you those were memorable times for me. I loved football.
Still do.
Growing up in Las Vegas, there was only so much football to embrace with UNLV being the only game in town. So you can imagine how enamored I was by stadiums like the L.A. Coliseum, the Rose Bowl, the Orange Bowl, the Big House, or Notre Dame's Stadium in South Bend on Saturday mornings. Or on Sundays, seeing pregame b-roll footage with gaudy font introducing the matchups as an overlay to sky views of Texas Stadium, Soldier Field, or Three Rivers Stadium.
Put it this way, for the past 45 years, if visiting different professional sports towns, I'd always ask the question, "Where do the (enter team name here) play?" I'll never forget the first year living in Eden Prairie, Minnesota, and overhearing a kid on the school bus talking about being at a Minnesota Vikings game the day prior. He looked at me a bit crazy when I said, "You were inside the Metrodome? You go to the games?"
I would have settled for attending a Big 10 clash involving the Minnesota Golden Gophers, who were coached by Lou Holtz at the time, let alone have the chance to attend a Vikings game.
I saw neither, ever, living there from 1982 through 1985.
Just Thursday night, I cleared my entire schedule to prep for the Week 1 clash between Minnesota and North Carolina because the game was in Minneapolis.
When I tell you I've always been fascinated by football stadiums, I'm talking about turning my most recent road trip into a stadium tour at the age of 55 years old.
Kansas State, Illinois, Central Michigan, Michigan State, Michigan, Notre Dame, Missouri, Missouri State, Arkansas and Oklahoma State. And sandwiched between was a stop in Chicago, where I stopped by the homes of the White Sox, Cubs and Bears.
The second-best part of most of those places was sneaking into as many stadiums as possible, just to get a glimpse of the field, if not stand on it. Like in Champaign, Illinois, where Red Grange starred and whose tribute plaque near one end zone highlights a game played in Memorial Stadium nearly 100 years ago, on Oct. 18, 1924.
I was like a kid entering Disneyland, walking around the perimeter of the stadium Knute Rockne played in, or seeing the statue of Barry Sanders in Stillwater.
People, not places
As much as I enjoyed this year's mental health sabbatical, a trek that put nearly 5,000 miles on a set of brand-new Kuhmo tires, I learned it wasn't so much about the places I visited.
The underlying theme of my love for football to visiting stadiums, the deeper appreciation for the southern hospitality of Friday Night Lights characters in lil ol' Dillon blended perfectly with the people I met along the way. That ranked No. 1, ahead of creeping into the venues.
Like in Champaign, where after reading about the Galloping Ghost I ran into Avery and Kaia, two young ladies who attend college elsewhere but on this evening were tooling around in a golf cart, doing their summer job in their hometown. Joking with them the second time I saw them, "Are you two following me?" Kaia laughed and said, "I'm actually here for the dog," referring to my faithful companion, Kahlua.
I don't blame her. The student-athletes and I chatted it up for a while, as they simply shared a type of kindness and hospitality you don't see much anymore from their generation. They promptly discarded the suggestion I received for one restaurant and instead suggested where I should get a good steak for dinner.
I believe it was Avery who gave me the steakhouse I settled in on, and by the time I left it felt as if I knew them longer than the 25 minutes we spoke. They checked in later, and the next day asked about dinner. We've stayed in touch, and it's much more than Kahlua now.
Then there was Israel, a young man I met at the gym I was working out at, as I needed a spot for my final set on bench press. He obliged, and we ended up at the same cable station and discussed different lifts. Turns out he was in town recruiting potential students at Camp CoBeAc for a private Christian college he attends in California.
Per the camp's site, "hundreds of young people are challenged by preachers from all across the country to make decisions for salvation and Christian Growth." Israel and I exchanged numbers so we could reconnect for a leg workout. After crushing the squat rack two days later, he invited me to see his performance during a night service at the camp.
Nestled deep in the woods, what I witnessed is a story in its own right, as it was one of the most meaningful events of the trip, watching teenagers fellowship and embrace their Christianity without the distraction of cell phones or social media. I've always said one of the most beautiful scenes in high school sports is a group of players kneeling for a pregame prayer. Near the end of the service, the charismatic pastor asked those who previously raised their hands for salvation while their eyes were closed, and their heads were bowed to find their counselors or sponsors for prayer.
I was floored when maybe 80% of a room full of teens stood up and engaged in prayer. It was refreshing to see kids more concerned with their faith than how many likes they were getting on an Instagram post, or how many clicks I might get for this story. Israel texted me the day he left, just to check in and say hello and wish me safe travels. Again, not a common practice with his, Avery of Kaia's generation.
For the second straight summer, I chatted it up between 4 and 5 am during morning workouts with Casey, who I'm guessing is at least 20 years my senior. That doesn't stop him from missing a workout. His parents founded the first-ever pharmacy in the small Michigan town, and he later took it over.
Now retired, the pharmacy still bears the family name, and Casey remains a popular figure in the community of 1,600 people. Just a good ol' boy, if you will, Casey has a flip phone and couldn't care less about the smartphone era we live in. When we met last year he wasn't too familiar with the WNBA.
By the time I got there this summer, Casey had become a big fan of the W thanks to the arrival of Caitlin Clark. When I told him about my visit to Camp CoBeAc, he told me one of the gym regulars, Lauren, was part of the camp's executive team with her husband. I met her before I left and shared my experience there. Good thing for me, Casey has email so I can share my WNBA stories with him.
A trip to Ebels General Store in Falmouth, Mich., reunited me with Megan, a former college basketball player who was working there and sold me some gourmet coffee last summer. She happened to be working in a different area of the store when I returned, and when I told her I was hoping to reconnect so I could inquire how her career was doing, it seemed as if we fell right back into the conversation from 2023.
Megan is big into CrossFit and has since hung up her Jordans to pursue other things while focusing on her faith-driven life. A big fan of the WNBA, I filled her in on my redesigned website, and like Casey, we've stayed in touch since my departure.
Upon my five-day drive home, which spanned roughly 40 hours of drive time across approximately 2,600 miles, I saw 10 more stadiums while visiting two friends I knew in Las Vegas and making two more.
The first day was quite epic, as I drove through Lansing and Ann Arbor, Michigan, and South Bend, Indiana. Walking around the campus of Notre Dame and taking pictures in front of "Touchdown Jesus" was pretty special. From there, on day two, Kahlua and I found a lakefront sports recreation park before settling into the Chicago suburb Bloomingdale. We walked around Lincoln Park and ended up on a lake wall overlooking Lake Michigan.
I met Jenessa and Amber, who play professional football for the Denver Bandits of the Women's National Football Conference. Of course, Kahlua and I took advantage of the photo-opp, and Amber helped us with our impromptu photoshoot.
But imagine how surprised we all were when they asked if I ever covered women's football at any level, told them of the young flag football stars from Las Vegas - and they knew exactly who I was speaking about. Timing is everything, I suppose. Now I'm looking forward to when they play the Las Vegas Silver Stars.
Tony, who is a bit older than me, remembers 19-year-old Willie Will from the DJ booth atop the Landmark Hotel in the 1980s and from entering dance contests at the now-defunct Tramps nightclub. We got to catch up over dinner in Geneva, Illinois, and shared a coffee at what might have been the coolest chocolate shop I've ever seen - there was a ginormous tree made of chocolate that ran through the roof of this place - aptly named All Chocolate Kitchen.
Lauren, meanwhile, turned 30 on the day we met for brunch in Missouri. Little did she know, this visit got me a little choked up, as I watched her during her high school soccer career when she helped lay the foundation for the girls' soccer dynasty at Arbor View before graduating in 2012.
Her career continued at Missouri State University, and now she's a Doctor of Physical Therapy. We've never lost touch, and it meant the world that she would interrupt her birthday to drive 15 miles for a quick visit. Soon, she'll have a child of her own and I couldn't be any happier for such a great human being.
From Kansas to Illinois to Michigan to Indiana to Missouri, this year's mental health sabbatical was not only fueled by the love of football and memory of fresh-cut grass on a Saturday morning but was strengthened by established friendships and making new ones.
Put it this way, my anxiety remained constant after last year's trip, right up until Game 1 of the WNBA Finals when multi-media journalist Ari Chambers calmed me with a five-minute chat that meant much more than she'll ever know.
This summer, I couldn't wait to get home in time for the upcoming football season, after seeing so many places I never thought I'd visit and meeting some pretty great people along the way.
And that, my friend, is why "all of a sudden people should be talking about mental health and why it's become such a big discussion."
Because for some of us, thanks to the kindness of others, it will always resonate.