Sharon Annette Heilbrunn

Here’s a recent Padres package I did on Dr. Jeff Gray, a San Diego dentist who is raising money for underprivileged teenagers through (of all things!) teeth whitening.

A few weeks ago, I was talking to a psychologist who works with professional athletes. He was out at baseball practice, hanging around the players, observing and also opening himself up in case any of them wanted to talk.

We chatted for more than an hour about life and work and people and somewhere in between, he turned to me and said: “So you’re a road less traveled girl, huh?”

Indeed I am.

I rarely go from Point A to Point B. I get lost along the way. I get curious. I stall. I turn back. I take a fork or a detour or a leap and I find myself somewhere new. I like to see what else is out there. I like the adrenalin rush of exploration as much as I enjoy the comfort of things unchanged. And I like learning from people — or situations — that have something to teach.

I don’t know if it’s good or bad, honestly. Some diversions are healthy … curiosity, or an opportunity, or exploration. I like to take those whenever possible. Other diversions, not so good. Burrowing a hole because I’m afraid of failure. Retracing a path because I’m being too cautious. Jumping in a dangerous ocean because I want to feel something new.

Exploration has always been who I am. I like to take (smart) risks. I like to do things unconventionally, to push an envelope, to be creative. I like to see what’s down the road that other people are afraid to walk. And I trust that I know when it’s okay to take an unfamiliar path or when I need to walk with purpose on the road I’m already traveling.

Maybe I’d be farther in my career if I went from Point A to Point B. But I wouldn’t be nearly as well-rounded. Everything I’ve done (even — especially — teaching dance) has brought me to where I am now professionally.

Maybe this quote says it best:

“May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.” — Edward Abbey

I did a Mother’s Day segment for Channel 4 SD with relief pitcher Mike Adams and his mother, Irma. Great message, great family. The part I loved most was how Irma doesn’t like watching Mike pitch. Too nerve-wracking.

I stood outside Seau’s restaurant in San Diego yesterday and interviewed people about the NFL Lockout, which is a very hot topic right now.

No matter how many times I do Man On The Street interviews, they always make me a little nervous. I probably ask dozens of people to talk to me before one finally does (making me an expert on dealing with rejection … story of my life 😉 ) … But once ONE person agrees, it’s like the flood gates open and people start waiting in line to chat. Still, no matter how seasoned the reporter, it’s always a little tough to hear so many people say “No!” … sorta makes you wonder how those salespeople at the kiosks in the mall do it every day.

Enjoy!

ESPN has been running its (fantastic!) “Year of the Quarterback” series, and the other day I watched an episode on Patriots phenom Tom Brady.

Tom Brady was pick #199 of the 2000 NFL Draft. Pick #199. That means 198 players were picked before him, people. I know that’s obvious … But think about it.

A man who went on to play in four Super Bowls (winning three of them) and who is arguably one of the most talented quarterbacks to ever grace a football field, was passed over again, and again, and again, before a team used a compensatory pick on him in the sixth round.

Six quarterbacks were taken before Brady’s name was called. No one believed in the guy from Michigan, who was classified as “skinny” and possessing a “mediocre arm.” Brady’s spirals weren’t tight enough. His feet weren’t fast enough.

But his heart was big enough.

At the end of the documentary, that’s what all the analysts and reporters and coaches and managers say, that they UNDERESTIMATED Tom Brady’s heart and motivation. They didn’t see how badly the kid wanted it. They never expected that Brady would achieve the success he has thus far in his career. They underestimated him — (while also exposing one of the flaws of the Draft, that all the speed and agility tests can’t measure someone’s drive and determination) — but Brady didn’t let that spin into failure. He used it to fuel his motivation even more. He knew he could do it. He just needed an opportunity … even if it came at #199.

And there it is, my friends. You can have all the talent in the world, but if you don’t WANT it, you’ll never achieve the greatness that someone with buckets of HEART will.

When Brady introduced himself to team owner Robert Kraft during his first training camp, he looked Kraft in the eyes and told him he was “the best decision this team has ever made.”

You have to be strong enough, when others dismiss you, to persevere and to believe in yourself.

But above all, you gotta want it. You gotta want it something fierce.

I was recently asked to participate in a “Sports and Social Media” panel at the Hall of Champions in Balboa Park. Along with several other panelists — including Warren Miller (director of public relations for the San Diego Padres) and Kirk Morrison (linebacker for the Jacksonville Jaguars) — I did my best to explain why social media has affected sports in such a significant way.

It’s not just that it’s trendy and fun — (and honestly, sometimes it’s not even fun … Ever had angry fans vent to you after a team loss? Not fun!) — it’s that social media has affected the way journalists break news, as well as the way we treat accuracy and responsibility in our profession. When we first started using Twitter at the Union-Tribune, we had many conversations about how to prioritize social networking. (“Do we break news on Twitter first? What about time stamps? What about the viability of our print product?”) And now, Twitter trumps all. In fact, there’s a running joke that nothing is official unless placed on Twitter or Facebook.

And with that freedom comes responsibility. How much credence do we give fans? How much do we engage? How much personal information should an athlete give out? Then there’s the matter of accuracy. We’ve chased down viral tweets before, only to find out they were rumors that other journalists were reporting as fact.

It was fascinating to listen to Kirk Morrison explain how athletes use Twitter to build their brand and to connect with fans. For fans, there is something so personal about social networking. I’ve had fans tell me it makes their day to get a reply or retweet from an athlete they adore. There’s a likability to it — fans feel like athletes are their “friends” — that would have never been experienced 10 years ago.

It’s amazing (and scary, haha!) to think about where we might be in the next ten years.

Change is hard.

(That’s nothing new, nothing revolutionary.)

Sometimes, we’re forced to change. A new city, a new job; a marriage, a baby … Those sorts of things that take your life, flip it, and leave you with no choice but to sink or swim.

Other times, though, change is more subtle.

It creeps into the crevices of your existence, into the nooks and crannies of your soul, and whispers.

“Change, or else.”

We all know these times. We ignore the whisper as long as we can. We like our lives. We like the vice, whether it’s drugs or alcohol or sex or food or working too hard or numbing ourselves with doubt. We like whatever is holding us back from being the person we want to be, because it’s comfortable. Hell, maybe it’s even fun. Exciting. A diversion from the life we are scared to embrace.

But it’s toxic.

And that’s the thing about Change, really. The voice always gets louder. We can run from it for so long, until it’s screaming at us, shouting, a monkey on our back reminding us that we’re slipping, and if we’re not careful, it will be too late.

So we start to turn the page, to take steps in another direction.

But it’s tough.

A step forward, two steps back. We almost always find ourselves back in the arms of the vice. Most people who try to change fail, often, and for good reason. We don’t want to be cold and uncomfortable. We don’t want to suffer, even though it’s temporary, even though the suffering could lead to something more beautiful and permanent. We don’t like the pain.

I call it circling the bench.

We all have benches that we sit on, at a fork in the road, when we can clearly see the path we need to be walking. We stare down that road and know we’re supposed to go that direction, but our feet are frozen. We’re paralyzed on the bench. Unable to change.

Eventually, we start circling the bench. Knowing we NEED to change, but scared, unsure. That new road is lonely and long.

It isn’t until we take those first steps – they don’t call ‘em baby steps for nothing – that life starts to show itself. That whatever we’ve been using to numb ourselves begins to strip away, and that fog we’ve been veiling our emotions under starts to lift. And the future still looks scary, but somehow more acceptable. Somehow more clear. The bench is farther away.

So circle the bench. Walk around it, shift your eyes to the seduction of what it offers, whether it’s approval or companionship or a high. Remember it’s false. And when you’re ready, force yourself to look away.

Look down that road, the one with promise and potential. The one that allows you to live raw, and true, and vulnerable. The one that is tough and scary and long.

You probably don’t see an end. And that’s okay.

It’s a leap of faith. Take it.

Believe you’ll be alright.

Turn your back to the bench. Start walking.

We all scream for ice cream.

Here’s a piece I did for Channel 4 San Diego with Orlando Hudson, second baseman for the Padres. O-Dog scooped ice cream at Ben and Jerry’s to raise money for children with autism. Super fun shoot and a really, really nice guy!

Belief is a tricky thing. It’s fickle. We believe when we want to, when it accommodates us, when it’s convenient. But to believe against adversity, to believe when the world is void of anything that remotely resembles a reason to believe … THAT is belief.

It’s even tougher to believe in yourself. I learned that the hard way. I think I thought that believing in oneself meant pompousness, arrogance, an inability to realize what you DON’T know, and therefore, a cease in learning. It took me well into my late 20s to understand the difference between confidence and cockiness … and that’s not to say cockiness is bad. It’s not. A little swagger is good. But with maturity comes (hopefully) a realization of what you DO know, a belief in oneself and one’s abilities to execute, and to execute well.

A very wise friend once told me: “Know what you don’t know.” He’s right. You have to know your weaknesses … We all have ’em. Own them. Use them to fuel your fire. Believe in your ability to strengthen yourself, to learn, to choose a different path if that’s what is necessary.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. (Surprise, surprise) … I just know that belief is powerful. Believe in yourself. Truly. Believe in your strengths AND your weaknesses, in your ability to evolve and adapt and grow from experience. Believe in your talents and your ability to see those through. Don’t waste time second guessing yourself. Believe, and that belief will create reality.

John Wooden is one of my favorite writers. His words can be broken down into nuggets of wisdom that make you stop, dead in your tracks, and think about your life and the path you’re walking. Is it fulfilling? Is the compass pointed in the right direction?

He knows what he’s talking about, too. The man won 10 NCAA championships in a 12-year period with UCLA. He’s in the Basketball Hall of a Fame not only as a player, but also as a coach. Amazing.

One of the things I like best about him is that he’s not afraid of failure. He embraces it. He’s failed many times, but he does not consider himself a failure. Partly, that’s because he truly knows the definition of success.

He’s been on my mind lately. I thought I’d post two pieces of his writing that I carry in my wallet:

John Wooden’s Seven Point Creed:

1. Be true to yourself.
2. Make each day your masterpiece.
3. Help others.
4. Drink deeply from good books, especially the Bible.
5. Make friendship a fine art.
6. Build a shelter against a rainy day.
7. Pray for guidance and give thanks for your blessings every day.

How Coach John Wooden defines success:

“Success is peace of mind which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you made the effort to become the best of which you are capable.”