Mike Youngs 🇺🇸

NFL still with trouble defining what a catch is.

National Cat Day? Live long and prosper, B.

“It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness; that is life.” RIP Sir Patrick Stewart

Neat. FTC Launches Personalized Pricing and Compensation Inquiry ftc.gov/news-events/news/pre…

"New" Outlook is the tool Microsoft wants. "Classic" Outlook is the tool their customers want.

The game against the Pack was one of maybe two-three times in history that poor calls actually helped the Lions.

The final whistle blows. Before you've even packed up the cones, a parent is walking toward you, and you can tell from their face what's coming. Every coach has been there. Here's what I've learned. The real work happens before the season starts. At the preseason meeting, lay out how playing time works, what you're trying to develop, and how parents can reach you with concerns. Then stick to it all season long. When a parent knows the rules and has watched you follow them every week, most of these moments never happen. When one does, use the 24-hour rule. No conversations about playing time, positions, or decisions right after a game. Emotions are high for everyone, including you. Calmly say something like, "I can tell you're frustrated, and I want to hear you out. Let's talk tomorrow." Then actually follow up. A day later, the conversation is almost always different. The parent has cooled off, you've had time to think, and the two of you can focus on what matters, which is the kid. And keep the player out of it. They just played a game. They don't need to watch the adults argue about it. Clear expectations up front. Consistency all season. 24 hours before the hard talk. It won't stop every angry parent, but it'll turn most of those moments into real conversations. Coaches, how do you handle that walk across the field?

The soccer ball is the most popular toy in the world. Toss one to a group of kids in a backyard or an empty lot, set down a couple of backpacks for goals, and you won't need to coach them. They'll play for hours. They'll make up moves, argue about whether it went in, and beg for five more minutes when it gets dark. Then we sign them up for organized soccer, and for a lot of kids it slowly turns into work. They run laps without a ball, hear adults yelling from the sideline, and get every mistake they made in a game pointed out in excruciating detail instead of getting ice cream on the car ride home. No wonder so many of them quit by the time they're teenagers. I believe in this: fun doesn't get in the way of work. Fun is what makes development happen. Kids who love the game touch the ball more, try more things, and keep coming back. That's how they get better. And yes, you can still win. So at your next practice, keep the ball at their feet. Let them try the crazy move. Play small-sided games, keep score, and let them figure it out. Coaches and parents, what's the best "just let them play" moment you've seen?

"She's going D1 scholarship or bust." I hear it from parents of 10-year-olds. I hear it from coaches selling a $4,000 club fee. Here's the reality nobody puts in the brochure. At D2, a men's program gets 9 scholarships to split across an entire roster. A women's program gets 9.9. At D3, zero. Most college players, men and women, aren't on a full ride. Many aren't on any athletic money at all. Academics got them in. So what happens when "scholarship or bust" is the only goal? Kids burn out by 14. Families spend more on travel than a scholarship would ever pay back. And the game turns into a job before it ever got to be fun. I'm not saying don't dream big. Dream big. But play because you love it. Develop because you want to get better. If college comes, great! It's four more years of playing the game you love while you get your education. If it doesn't, great! You still got years of the best game in the world, friendships, and lessons you'll carry forever. That's not a bust. That's the whole point. Parents and coaches, how do you keep the dream in perspective?

Every season I watch the same thing happen. A coach scouts around the area and picks the biggest, fastest 11-year-olds. The kids who hit their growth spurt early. They win a lot of games because they are taller and faster than everyone. Meanwhile the late bloomer, the one with good touch and vision who's still a head shorter, gets ignored. Fast forward five years. The early bloomers' size advantage is gone, and some of them never learned to play out of pressure because they never had to. The late bloomer? The one who stuck with it has caught up physically, and now they've got the skill, the vision, and the soccer brain they built while they were the smallest kid on the field. Well, hopefully, anyway. Many quit long before anyone saw what they could become. Picking for size wins you a U12 trophy. Developing for skill wins you players. And here's the thing: you don't have to choose. You can develop and win at the same time. But only if we stop judging 11-year-olds by their boot sizes. Coaches, who's the late bloomer you're glad you kept?

Was completely indifferent about the Tigers having their ballpark renamed to Fifth Third Park until the bank CEO claimed they solicited feedback from fans before settling on that name. No Tigers fan, from the ones that have the back of Rusty Kuntz’s baseball card memorized to those who couldn’t pick Cecil Fielder out of a lineup of him and the Seven Dwarfs would *ever* suggest 5/3 Park. So now I hate it.

Alma Scots WSOC with the dub at Elmhurst.