What The Hell Am I Supposed To Do When I Graduate College?

I’m staring down the barrel of an intimidating, terrifying, bordering on impossible to answer, will be repeatedly asked until I come up with a sufficient answer, monster of a question: What are you doing after you graduate?    

Being a three year letterman with one last slate of school in front of me, I’ve got a comfortable idea of how this year will unfold. The syllabi pressuring won’t seem imposing anymore. My resume will add new dimensions. There will be celebrations for victories with my friends. And in about nine months, my time to execute this playbook will run out. The challenge between now and then is establishing a contingency for my next arena in life.

Over the next two semesters, I’m going to periodically document my experiences and thoughts that contribute to building a substantial response for the opening question. There are three goals for this journey. One, it allows me to keep bouts of insanity away. Two, it connects with someone going through this same course. Three, it acts as content on this blog that can’t be mocked in a few weeks like the sports predictions I continue to post in a public and permanent location for some unbeknownst reason.

Let’s start with some context for where I am right now by taking a few steps backwards before forging ahead on this quest.

It’s a scary proposition attempting to make a decision when several possibilities are laid out in front of you. This phenomenon is called the paradox of choice; for example, I agonize over picking the most utility delivering ice cream flavor when there are more than a dozen alternatives. Pinpointing the correct, initial job I should pursue by dissecting an infinite number of options and getting constant reminders of the daunting and significant nature of this decision is predictably a lot to digest.

Almost daily, I interrogate myself to hopefully catalyze an epiphany. Should I pursue a graduate degree? Which one? Which school? What industries would I be happy in? What are the best companies in those industries? Would they hire me? What region of the country can I envision living? What city? What’s the cost of living there? Would I have any friends there? Can I have a dog in an apartment? Can I have two?

Right now, I have a list of about a thousand contenders battling for the lead.

Some are improbable (Convincing Netflix to give me the chance to launch a sports talk show for them at the ripe age of 22 with no professional experience in producing, writing, and hosting).

Some are fun in theory (Bouncing from odd job to odd job until my mid to late 20s where I turn a fourth place finish on The Bachelorette, into an appearance on Bachelor in Paradise, into an appearance on one of those B-list celebrity game shows, and into an invitation for Dancing with the Stars).

Some need a miraculous and substantial influx of capital (Move to the Bahamas where I open a popular beachfront bar named Jake’s. Because the world needs another bar or two named Jake’s).

Some are even realistic and likely to occur, but I won’t bore you with those.

I’m finding the crux right now to be identifying the best sources for help. I consider myself extremely fortunate to have a strong support system in my life. Journeymen who have emerged from this gauntlet before to prove everything will be alright. Veterans who possess sage advice. Confidants who know and have my best interests at heart.

I believe it’s important to learn from these case studies, however, I often times find myself reluctant to draw any meaningful corollaries for myself. Ironically and like so many others, I’m perfectly comfortable with dishing out this learned guidance to others. But taking the lessons and morals personally to heart and letting somebody else’s tale directly influence my own? For some reason, it seems natural for us to approach this self-application not nearly as welcoming.

Because of this hesitancy, I’ve tried to stay alert as not to miss fateful signs or subtler assistance from the unlikeliest of leads. Preceding this journey, there have been two events that have lingered with me for some time that I keep reflecting back on.

A serendipitous ride with a chauffeur this past January was the first. The man had to be about 70, but after exchanging our introductions, it was clear he possessed an unwavering amount of youthful energy. After a four hour flight, I wasn’t exactly thrilled for a 40 minute drive to the hotel. His spirited commentary, however, changed my attitude.

Leaving the Phoenix airport and without any prompting, he presented a few facts on every landmark in the passing choreography of the city’s metropolitan sprawl. He detailed an itinerary to maximize my approximately two hours of free time over the next day. He raved about every aspect of his home with exuberant pride.

The story suddenly pivoted to personal anecdotes. I learned he spent much of life on the road as a truck driver logging more than a million miles across the continental United States. He reminisced about nights in the ski lodges of the Rockies with friends he hadn’t seen in 40 years. He listed his favorite stretches of highway; the roads winding through the underappreciated canyons of Utah at sunset, the freedom he felt in the coastal breeze travelling up and down the coast of California, and the kaleidoscope of colors from the Blue Ridge Parkway’s autumnal leaves could be recalled with uncanny detail.

When I finally sensed an opportunity (and worked up the courage) to interrupt, I asked why he decided to settle in Phoenix.

His answer centered on his parents, who planted their roots in Arizona’s capital a couple decades earlier. He had actually come back only a few years ago to take care of them. Unfortunately, both had passed away recently. He spoke with melancholy for the first time, but when we arrived at the hotel, positive emotions returned as he showed me pictures of the setting for what he called his epilogue- a beautiful lodge in the mountains of New Mexico.

We shook hands. I offered up my meager, insignificant thanks for the conversation. He gave me a piece of advice for the interview I had tomorrow. It was long winded and accompanied by a narrative, but it boiled down to remembering life has detours, construction, and traffic jams.

The second has stuck with me going back almost a year and a half now, but doesn’t need as long of an introduction, as the story can be reference here on Reddit. An AMA response by former Ohio State walk-on basketball player turned normally comedic sportswriter/Twitter extraordinaire Mark Titus about his depression. The man has made me tear up from laughing so hard. Reading those comments had me tearing up from opposite emotions.

If you didn’t click on the link, which I highly recommend spending an additional three minutes reading, the last sentence he writes struck me: Simply experiencing the human condition makes me happy. 

What the hell am I supposed to do when I graduate? I have absolutely no idea. While I know these two parables aren’t going to directly author an answer, I’m hoping they serve as opening chapters to a blossoming manual for perspective, patience, and the proper prescription to clearly view this endeavor.

Like reminding myself I might have to alter my course when it’s finally set whether I want to or not. Realizing certain projects that are an inconvenience right now could pay off with meaningful dividends in the long run. Expecting to encounter both friendly and not so friendly competition with others on the roadways to the most popular and thrilling places. Knowing one phone call from the right person could result in putting your entire life momentarily on hold. Never forgetting the elation conversing with someone new can bring. Remembering life is a highway isn’t just a song.

Like persuading me to replace the complacency of watching another series or two or Netflix with spontaneous adventures. Notice the sights and sounds of the walks across campus with some extra attention to detail.  Appreciate the environment of a college town and its bartenders for not bludgeoning my bank account to the brink of death when I spend a night out. To not take for granted the special circumstances that being surrounded by 30,000 people all trying to maximize their college years by experiencing the human condition offers.

My plan for trying to “answer the question” going forward? Knock on as many doors as possible, in as many places as possible, in the coming months. I expect from the majority I’ll receive no answer, and they will have to remain closed for a little while longer. Some will creak open allowing me a peek inside to determine if I like what I see. Hopefully a select few will swing wide open and a beneficial relationship will be solidified by one moment of being in the right place at the right time

When I went off to school, I left home with a healthy mix of eagerness and anxiety. As I begin to tackle this task, I feel the same way. Who knows where this odyssey will lead. A new campus, city, commonwealth, or country are all potential destinations. I can't wait to see what counsel crosses my path. An Uber driver or a Bojangles employee might tell me a story that changes my outlook on everything.

But for right now, I only see a vast stretch of open road, and I'm armed with just an uncalibrated compass to navigate. What a ride this is going to be.

J. Nave

Forecasting Durant Without the Thunder and Oklahoma City Without Durant

The San Andreas Fault was always widely believed to be the biggest threat of Earth shattering news in the Golden State.

Then Monday happened. Kevin Durant announced he would be taking his talents to the Bay Area, and any notions previously held about sports, science, religion, and politics had to be reexamined or just completely thrown out the window.

In reaction, fireworks on our country’s birthday were replaced by fiery hot takes from sea to shining sea. Basketball enthusiasts were salivating over what Chef Curry and his new companion will be able to cook up in an even more lethal Death Lineup. Durant’s business opportunities in Silicon Valley were being drooled over by the area’s prominent venture capitalists. Draymond Green relished the presence of a safety net should his uncontrollable extremities meet the groins of opposing players in the playoff runs of years to come.

Many expressed their grievances and skepticism about the move, though. Personally, Durant has been called a coward, the worth of his hypothesized future championship and legacy already questioned, and his jerseys seemed to serve as a substitute for sparklers in Oklahoma’s capital last night. On a macro level, the current parity of the NBA has to leave fans from Orlando to Portland wondering if they might as well start waiving their white flags.

I understand why Durant made his move. I’m in no position to judge who I believe to be the second best basketball player on the planet. I do, however, want to comment on Durant’s signing and why it personally stung.

My uneasiness when I read the news is because of an article I read less than six weeks ago in Sports Illustrated. I lifted some of the more notable quotes on a second read of Lee Jenkins’ piece:

“I think of myself as a small-town kid,” Durant says. “I liked the small-town vibe. But it was a ghost town. The downtown wasn’t really a downtown. I don’t remember a single tall building. Now I look at that building and it’s a beacon, reminding me what we came from.”

“Our world revolves around championships,” Durant says. “Who won the championship? Who will win the championship? If you’re not the champion, you’re a loser. If you’re not first, you’re last. Don’t get me wrong, I want to win a championship more than anybody, but if you go through the journey we’ve gone through, you can also appreciate other things.” Like the skyscraper, completed nearly four years ago, towering outside his window.

“The Thunder has given us a worldwide brand we’ve never had before,” says the mayor, Mick Cornett. “The exposure has been immeasurable. You tell somebody in another country you’re from Oklahoma City, and they say, ‘Kevin Durant.’”

My first thought after reading Durant’s words? He possesses maturity, a keen mind, and a refreshing, genuine sense of romanticism. Three qualities a vast majority of us want our favorite athletes to embody outside of our competition. Combined with his charitable spirit, it's easy to see why Durant was worshiped and so eagerly integrated into the town's branding.

My second reaction was a realization that outside of oil, Kevin Durant was truly the most valuable commodity to Oklahoma City and perhaps the entire state. Before the Thunder came to town, was the city best known for a tragic act of domestic terrorism or an occasional tornado? (My age makes it hard to accurately speculate on this, but suggested Google searches seem to confirm this). I’d make the case he meant more to his team than LeBron James does to the Cavaliers- There was a basketball team on Lake Erie’s shores before the arrival of the Chosen One. In Oklahoma City, there was never a time before Durant. He took, and fittingly made, the franchise’s first shot… Now they enter Year 1 A.D. with only a crushing fear their other destroyer of worlds might soon follow him out the door, and a long rebuild will likely have to proceed after the passing storm.

That’s why I think the desire to criticize Durant crept in. I, like the thousands of Thunder diehards, are in the position of being fans of what the sports world label small market teams. Cities where free agents don’t historically want to sign (Cleveland’s zip codes aren’t sexier than 90210?). Organizations whose shallower pockets limit their ability to retain star players (Hello, Reds and Indians). Franchises whose championship windows are impossible to permanently wedge open, if they can ever even be cracked an inch in the first place (Looking at you, Blue Jackets). The highs are much more meaningful because of these factors (Thank you, Cavs), but the lows always seem to be far more recurring.

What brings us fans back after those bad years is hoping we can find a tried and true framework that's proven successful in the past: If we hire the right front office, if we make some good draft picks, if we find the right veterans, and if we find a good coach to lead the way, we can possibly hold on to our superstar, we can contend for a title, and we can make our flyover state reputation as attractive as New York City or Los Angeles.

Oklahoma City fans have to be discouraged because their organization was a model of how to do all those right things. The team molded a lineup with both depth and talent around their star. The front office correctly pegged players that could keep the pipeline of great prospects flowing to reinforce the amount of chances for a title. The franchise overcame injuries to almost annually make deep runs in the playoffs. The coach, who many questioned after being plucked from the collegiate ranks, added fresh perspectives to take the team's play to new heights. Four quarters away from a chance for a championship, three separate times, the tipping point Durant sensed was on the precipice seemed inevitable. Then over the course of a few nights it wasn't. Now, the guy who cast a shadow much larger than his 6'9" frame across the culture, economy, and trajectory of the city is gone. He believe he likely sets off to win multiple championships to build an impressive legacy on the court; the one thing he had not yet been able to construct around him in his current life, even though it's hard to believe the framework wasn't almost finished.

In the series finale of The Office, Andy Bernard delivers his parting words in a monologue about wishing you could realize you were in the good old days before you left them. The quotes above sure make it seem like Durant felt in Oklahoma City he was simultaneously creating and living in them. I don't think anyone can disagree with his assessment that great days will be plentiful in San Francisco in the next few years, but it seems he's leaving his current set too soon. After such an exciting cliffhanger, it's somewhat cruel the fans won't get another season to watch. 

“But it’s not just that,” Durant continues. “I drive through downtown, through midtown, through the Asian district and see so many different businesses, so many different people. It’s a big, diverse city that’s grown with the team… I know that’s not a championship. But the championships, the records, the who’s the best player—there will always be new champions and new records and new players. What we’re talking about, these are jobs, these are lives, these are things that will matter for 40 years, and that is very cool to me.”

Above, is one final quote from the aforementioned article. Durant could easily go on to win several titles with the roster he's about to join. His business acumen combined with plentiful opportunities in the city he's about to live is likely to expand his wealth. The question we'll have to wait 40 years to answer is how many rings, how much fun, and how many dollars will be enough to make Durant believe his legacy wouldn't have been better off spurring more livelihoods, catalyzing more growth, and delivering just a single title as a forefather to both the city he developed, and the team that helped develop him. 

J. Nave

Fate Comes to Believeland

Tomorrow night, Believeland will be tested once again.

On its face, it seems this is a paradoxical form of identification for a city that's often labeled as a mistake. A city whose best days are widely believed to be trapped in the past. A city that houses the honors for the best musicians of yesteryear. A city that makes you wonder for much of the year if Mother Nature is encouraging you to find a reprieve from its weather. A city that has its own Wikipedia page and ESPN movie for the failures and apparent curse of its professional sports teams. A city that quite frankly hasn't offered much to believe. Very few places on the planet, though, will you find a group of people who believe more than fans of the Browns, Cavaliers, and Indians. They believe so ceaselessly an outsider might wonder if Journey's most popular song plays on a loop in city hall. They believe in such a fashion Einstein would dub the whole city mad.

In a terrifying twist from the status quo, however, the outsiders are believing in Cleveland now. They see a destroyer of worlds playing with a determined ferocity to prove he's more valuable than the league MVP and willing his teammates to believe in his mission. They see an opponent who's battered with injuries, mentally agitated, and on the cusp of never before seen failure.

This reactionary xenophobia to the support isn't grounded in a fear of the geographically or culturally foreign, though. It's derived from the widely feared, yet impossible to anticipate, unknown. A fear of what today foresight would deem an impossible play manages to happen and swings the game the wrong way tomorrow. A fear of once again having to weigh whether giving into nihilism about winning a championship is a better option than following down the path of belief created heartbreak in the seasons to come.

Whether it's a stroke of fate and dynasty or cruel misfortune is to be determined, but Game 7 against the Golden State Warriors will fall on Father's Day. Across the state of Ohio, especially in its northeast quadrant, fathers and sons will watch the game together wondering if decades of suffering will come to an end. Grandfathers will root with their grandsons hoping the next generation of fans will escape the misery they've had to endure. Members from every generation will believe, and if things don't go well, the history will be rehashed by the elders to make sure the faith never fades away.

Throughout this series, I'll admit my belief wasn't always strong. It looked like the quest to win a title was going to end before it got started. Since then, I've shifted from no hope, to subdued levels of pessimism, to what I would describe now as mild optimism. A Cleveland championship hasn't happened in 52 years. No team has ever come back from a 3-1 deficit in the NBA Finals. The Cavaliers' opponent is a team who compiled a historic 73-9 record, whose coach laid out a list of grievances with the refs that would make it seem any close call will go their way, who's led by the league MVP motivated by attacks on both him and his wife, and who will be playing in a building where they are 50-4. Many would say I am stupid to get my hopes up now.

I say we might look back on June 19, 2016 and realize it was the perfect storm and the most satisfying reward Believeland deserved.

J. Nave

I'm Saying There's a Chance: How Cleveland Wins Four Games Against Golden State

On Thursday, I announced through Twitter my mind was telling me the city of Cleveland's championship drought would continue via a Golden State sweep (Let's face it. We're just going to have to wait until the Robert Griffin III led Browns win Super Bowl LI). In the following hours, the performance of the Warriors and a few replies from the haters  my followers did nothing to dissuade me from my prediction. Golden State is more talented. They play harder at almost every position on the floor. Steph Curry's confidence in pregame warm-ups alone should be enough of a sign no opponent is going to compile a 4-3 record against the Warriors, especially when a majority of those games are being played in Oracle Arena (He was trying to volleyball serve the ball in the hoop from the three point line before the first game. Game over). The odds are slim, but I've figured out the one path to a series victory for The Land.

Game 2: New Coach, New Result
If there's a better basketball catchphrase than Mark Jackson's, "Mama, there goes that man", I'm not familiar with it. Additionally, the former coach of the Bay Area's NBA franchise doesn't hold back his disdain from being let go after the 2013-2014 season when he's on the call. In the following two seasons since his dismissal, the Warriors have been on a torrid run of dismantling all notions of what were previously the universal limits of basketball, and Jackson has been looking for a team to stop Steve Kerr's Run and Gun offense. After last night, it became evident to me the Cavs should fire Tyronn Lue and give Jackson the keys. But just for the next two weeks. Hell, I wouldn't bet against him suiting up and giving the team 25 minutes and 15 points off the bench at the age of 51. He'll know how to best get inside the Splash Brothers' heads. He'll know how to trigger a costly flagrant foul out of Draymond. This man is the seer Cleveland needs. Dan Gilbert will realize he has no choice but to take out a third mortgage on who operates his team. Jackson calls his own number in the final minute, hits a game winning three with 4.8 seconds left, and the series is all tied at one.

Game 3: Praise The Lord of Light 
There might be a public backlash for openly worshiping a fictitious paganism, but the ability of this god's most devout followers cannot be understated. Resurrections are common place. Their priestesses turn 400000 into the new 40. Outside of Chance the Rapper, I don't think there's been a single increase in admiration that can rival R'hllor's newfound popularity. When you resurrect Jon Snow, that's bound to happen. It's quite simple really. Let's get LeBron James and his kingsblood in the same room as Melisandre and get one of those smoke baby demons conceived. Fear not, though, there shall be no killing from this strange life form. When it sweeps down from the rafters of Quicken Loans Arena to block Andre Iguodala's go ahead three, the Cavs will hold a 2-1 series lead. Even better, this will be accomplished without having to burn a child alive!

Game 4: H-O-R-S-E
With the trajectories of the Warriors' regular season and the Cavaliers' postseason, it seemed possible the NBA Finals could come down to a glorified three point contest. That's why to take Game 4 the Cavaliers will shoot nothing inside the arc. Think about this for a second. In Game 1, the Cavaliers took 105 shots. Entering this series. the Cavaliers had been making about 43% of their threes. 105 shots at a .43 success rate with a possible of 3 points a shot, means the Cavaliers mathematically could have expected to score about 135 points. I don't care how badly you play defense. The Warriors are going to have a hard time outscoring that number. By the time they catch on to the strategy and try to implement it themselves, it will be far too late. J.R. Smith and Channing Frye and Kevin Love and Kyrie Irving and basically everybody not named Matthew Dellavedova pulls up every single possession to one up the Splash Brothers with a cannonball of a performance. Cleveland goes up three games to one.

Game 5: A Setback
Sorry, even in this fairy tale scenario, a team isn't beating the Warriors four games in a row and simultaneously clinching the series in Oakland. Cavs lose by 32.

Game 6: Play the Trump Card
Just when it appears the Golden State Warriors are going to come back from a 3-1 deficit once again after jumping out to a huge halftime lead in Game 6, the Cavaliers channel their inner real estate mogul and build a wall around the Golden State locker room at the break. Right before the third quarter should begin and unable to fight through the structure, Golden State attempts to broadcast the sabotage to the outside world. However, they come to find @Cavs has already dominated the Twittersphere with insults and vague claims about the Warriors' players, front office, and fans. Most importantly, the team is shocked to discover the wall is being justified as a necessity because forward Anderson Varejao, a native of Brazil, was rumored to have contracted the Zika virus on a recent visit home. The quarantine is hailed by the Cavs as national security preservation. With "Wallgate" delaying Game 6's second half for more than an hour, the normally unflappable Adam Silver is overcome with fear and anxiety on how to proceed. He checks his phone to see he has become the team's next victim online. He reads a news article focusing on a former college roommate's testimony Silver cheated his way through law school at the University of Chicago. Overwhelmed and seemingly outmatched, Silver makes an executive decision that Golden State must forfeit Game 6. The Warriors, in the most unexpected chapter to R. Kelly's saga, are forced to hear the far off cheers from the confused Cleveland fans and blasts from decades old confetti cannons while they're trapped in the locker room. In the coming days, it is revealed nothing Cleveland claimed was true. By then, half of the city is burned in celebration, champagne overtakes water as the main liquid in the Cuyahoga River, and a statue of LeBron James is constructed on every city block. The title is allowed to stay, and one of the longest droughts in sports history is eviscerated. Cavs in 6 comes to fruition because like Kevin Garnett once said, "Anything is possible."

J. Nave

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Debate About Stephen Curry versus LeBron James

When I was a kid and missed a day of school, I would sit on the couch and watch the flagship program of ESPN for hours. From catching up on the highlights from last night to then trying to recall and emulate the best phrases of the day from Stuart Scott, Dan Patrick, or whoever anchored the desk on the particular day, this exercise was a cherished routine. It's a different story today when I watch SportsCenter because the show is almost always live. This is vital for breaking news. It seamlessly allows for player interviews and guests to deliver their thoughts on air. Promotions can reach a whole different level, too. But the format lends itself to a major problem of having hours of airtime to fill with only a limited amount of material to discuss. Analysts can only analyze for so long. What follows analysis these days? Scorching, scalding, and sweltering hot takes in spades.

This brings me to what I want to examine: The comparison of LeBron James and Stephen Curry to determine who is the superior player. The debate has been nonstop since last June. The examination has reached a microscopic level during Curry's record-breaking annihilating season and the playoffs in anticipation of an extremely likely Finals rematch. That's why I'm afraid in the coming days the conversation is going to dominate the sports media. It's tempting, especially with players of this caliber, to turn this into the one and only story. However, we need to take a step back and realize how fruitless this talk is. 

First off, the narratives these two have written are both spectacular. Simply appreciate them both, which for some unbeknownst reason seems to be an impossible option. From his high school days, the prophetical anointing of LeBron James was borderline blasphemous. When the Cavaliers won the lottery and the right to draft the Chosen One, it was miraculous. When the Prodigal Son returned to Cleveland, the city's tepid hopes for a championship were resurrected to a frenzy. His accolades racked up in Northeast Ohio and South Beach are remarkable- besides the blemish of a 2-4 record in the Finals- and have cemented him among the greatest players of all time. It would be hard to design a more perfect specimen for the game of basketball than LeBron. For Curry, the questions and doubters were never afraid to raise their voices. The Bay Area, home to many of the country's biggest innovations and venture capitalists this millennium, took a chance on the Davidson College product. Today, the Warriors' return on investment can't even begin to be quantified. That's what happens when you lead your team to a 73-9 record, make over 400 three pointers in one season, and become the first unanimous MVP in league history. Stephen Curry is the architect of a revolution on how to dominate and defy what's possible in basketball. The overlap of their careers should be considered a stroke of tremendous luck. 

The ways their teams have been viewed in breaking the wills of opponents makes a comparison even more difficult. The cutting and motion offense of the Warriors seemingly predicates passing up uncontested layups for wide open three pointers. When Golden State employs their "Group of Death" lineup, the philosophy leads to a brand of basketball the rest of the NBA is desperately attempting to replicate. Whether it's a behind the back pass to an open Klay Thompson, pick and pop with Draymond Green, or celebrating a 30 foot three pointer before it goes in, Curry is the maestro of this trendy orchestra. His scoring ensures the ensemble stays in key and in rhythm. The Cavaliers have tried to add this dimension and become more versatile by signing a barrage of shooters to spread the floor around LeBron, but their offense is at the best when this brute, unstoppable force is leading the charge of his teammates to the basket, completing passes very few point guards would dare attempt, or attacking the glass on defense. In a way, Curry and James have become champions and the poster children for this new age versus old school approach. Basketball pundits both past and present have been weighing in all season. What's developed is the success of their teams provides merits for who's the better player, while the failure of their teams acts as indignation against their case. Changing the debate's framework from individual performance to team result leads to no meaningful answer on the original question, which is a lesson ESPN can't seem to grasp. 

Finally, an often cited point in Curry's defense is he's the face of the NBA nowadays. From jersey sales, to advertisements, to his family, it's hard to find a more popular suitor for the throne. The parables of the Warriors guard creates a David-like mythology in a career of slaying both literal and metaphorical Goliaths. This is easy and a lot of fun to root for. Many fans have happily gravitated towards his suave personality. LeBron has been vilified throughout his career for The Decision, his on court antics, maintaining friendly relationship with players around the league, and failing in the biggest moments too many times. However, where he was most hated as recent as two years ago is now home of his staunchest defenders which ultimately makes this a moot point. Besides the fact off court marketability has nothing to do with on court play, the city of Cleveland's allegiance to LeBron James is almost impossible to grasp for outsiders. A championship won by him for his city could only begin to be adequately appreciated by select pockets of long suffering and tortured fans across the country. Oh, and that's without even mentioning LeBron signed a life long deal with Nike worth ONE BILLION DOLLARS. Business, and more specifically money, normally does the most valuable talking, but in this case it's undoubtedly the most ridiculous point in this confusing debate. 

In the coming days, the rematch between the Warriors and Cavaliers will hopefully come to fruition. Not to determine whether Steph or LeBron is better, but to see the two most talented teams in the NBA from top to bottom go to war for a championship. The talk will mainly circle around the game's most exciting players, but tune out, mute, and ignore any talk when it turns to comparing and ranking the two players among all time greats. Andre Iguodala was the Finals MVP last season. Matthew Dellavedova was the key for the Cavs winning their two games. With all due respect to two of the game's present day legends, whoever wins Golden State-Cleveland Round Two will need exemplary performances from every single player on the roster. 

J. Nave

The Write in Candidates Who Can Save the 2016 Election

After months of incessant coverage, comical debates, anatomy lessons, and literally so much more I don't think I could ever attempt to note it all, it appears the 2016 Presidential Election will come down to a contest between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. Many Americans will go to the voting booth in November with a dilemma of attempting to select the lesser of two evils. A career politician who might be indicted by the FBI against a loose cannon businessman who might blow up the planet on a day where he gets insulted on Twitter isn't exactly an appealing match-up. What can be done about this? We, as the American people, can rally behind a person above the nonsensical fray that has enveloped the country the past year. An individual who will truly make America great again. There's still much time to discuss the savior of our nation. But I have a few suggestions of who we should consider.

Honorable Mention: John Kasich
What was wrong with him, Republican voters?

5. Kanye West
I know he said he didn't want to run until 2020, but why not get him elected as soon as possible? Making a follow up album to The Life of Pablo and fashion shows will soon bore the godly mogul. Leader of the free world would probably pose a few more challenges, and the American people could follow right along on Twitter with the play-by-play rationale behind his sound(?) decisions. Kim Kardashian as First Lady would boost the E! Network's ratings to record numbers. It'll be even better when he announces himself as his running mate. A Kanye cabinet would be such a motley crew of arrogance the rest of the world would have no choice but to recognize American greatness, but there's an chance he names himself to every position in his cabinet, too. He's been a vital figure in getting Panda integrated in our culture these past several weeks. Graduating from the stratosphere of celebrity mecca to the White House? Welcome to the good life, President West.

4. Kobe Bryant
Ever since he dropped 60 in his final NBA game, respect for Kobe Bryant has been at an all time high. His Black Mamba nickname would easily weave together with the "Join or Die" symbol from the American revolution in a time where it would appear our country is desperate for another. Plus, what is Kobe supposed to do in his retirement anyways? He loves the limelight. He doesn't shy away from the big time. He'll stroll into the Middle East and meet the leaders of ISIS face to face. He'll play Putin one on one for control of nuclear access codes in the Far East. He'll talk to every man, woman, and child until their fears about the current status of America are alleviated. He could assemble a council of elders with some of the world's best statesmen, mainly just for show though, because we all know he's not giving them any shot at real responsibility. Shaq as his running mate? Phil Jackson as his running mate? I'm on board with this idea. Kobe will bring championship glory to the nation's capital once again?


3. Adam Silver
The NBA commissioner has only held his position for a brief time, but his reign of power has led to some impressive accomplishments. First, he handled the Donald Sterling issue tremendously (Basically, Sterling was making comments not all too distant from what Trump has been saying on the campaign trail. Now, he no longer owns the Los Angeles Clippers thanks to actions spearheaded by Silver). Then, he came out in support of legalizing sports betting, an issue that is dear and near to my heart and could easily get solved within his first 100 days in office. Granted, Silver's strong resemblance to the male character in the 20th century painting American Gothic doesn't give him the most presidential appearance, but as a country, we should be willing to look past that in the year 2016. He graduated from the University of Chicago Law School and previously worked as a clerk for a United States District Court judge. That alone is almost enough of a resume to seek political office. Us Americans love our sports. Silver is by far the most competent leader we have of a league that is starting to dominate the news headlines all year round and in a much more positive light than the NFL. Adam Silver gives us the best shot at making sure the United States of America starts winning more golds on the global stage.

2. Cersei Lannister
I had a hard time wrestling with the top three picks and deciding who I ultimately wanted to throw my weight behind. Cersei was an infinitesimally close second. The Queen Regent of Westeros hasn't ever been in charge of the Seven Kingdoms, but she's managed to finagle and maintain a position of power where she got her husband killed, manipulated her firstborn son, and appears ready to do the same to her second to rid Kings Landing of her own rabid creation. She has a mountainous, gold clad bodyguard who will and can kill any enemy of hers without exuding any effort. She sits around all day and does nothing but drink wine, and she still manages to advance her political agenda. She walked through the capital completely naked to atone for her sins as she was physically and verbally bombarded. Do you see Trump or Clinton walking across the national mall in a fashion like this?!? Besides her previous relationship with her brother, Cersei is a perfect candidate. She's from a family of political royalty that could rival Bush or Clinton, she's conniving enough to get deals struck in Washington, she has plenty of gold dragons to pay off the national debt, and she'll love this country as much as she loves her children and Cabernet. On a side note, if we elect a fictional candidate president, what exactly happens? Lena Headey is English, so she would technically be unable to hold the position. I firmly believe Cersei, portrayed by Headey and funded by American corporations HBO and Time Warner, should be allowed to protect and serve us from the long winter ahead.

1. Lin-Manuel Miranda
Sometimes the answer is so obvious we almost miss it. If there's a better candidate out there, I dare you to find him or her. Let's run down why:

-He single-handedly created Hamilton. This musical has been 1989 meets Star Wars: The Force Awakens meets Woodstock in terms of the buzz, reach, and commercial success. Track record of improving the country? Check.
-Previously, he created In The Heights, a production that took the theatrical world by storm just to a slightly lesser degree. By no means am I a patron of the arts or a thespian, but I've listened to both soundtracks and thoroughly enjoyed them. Being consistent enough to perform well for two terms? Check.

-He has been invited to the White House to not only perform and showcase his lyrical genius, but also to discuss a plan to help Puerto Rico's current financial position. He went in front of Congress as well for the same issue. Political awareness and passion? Check.
-Can you imagine Miranda's State of the Union addresses? We'd have to create a new word in our language because lit wouldn't describe them adequately. I would learn so much about the Trans-Pacific Partnership, Iranian nuclear agreements, and national tax code if they were delivered in the fashion of the video above. Ability to captivate an audience? Check.
-At only 36 years old, Miranda could weave together an opera to delight the ears of the American youth who seem to be more interested in politics than ever before, yet his knowledge of the country's history would resonate with older voters. Connecting with his constituents? Check.
-People fork over hundreds of dollars to see Hamilton. Why not expand the show on a global horizon? Within about three months of shows and a bidding war between the most elite and wealthy individuals around the world, the national deficit could feasibly turn into a surplus. A fiscally responsible choice? Yes.
-Is he under investigation from the FBI? Is he one of the least inspiring public speakers to ever seek America's highest office? No.
-Is he prone to making poor decisions with his speech that incite riots? Does he have an awful spray tan paired with awful hair? No.
-Did this whole article start out as satire but gradually convince me Miranda could run against a former Empire State senator and an Empire State businessman and carry New York? Yes.
-Can he win the 2016 Election? Only if we rally behind him and give him the chance he deserves.

#ImWithLin

J. Nave 

Why College Sucks

It's taken me nearly three years of experiencing college to realize something completely desolating about it: College sucks. You might think this is because your parents, your siblings, your pets, and your bed will no longer be familiar constants. Or your mom's favorite recipes will have to be replaced by the best thing available in your cafeteria. Or that your friends will start new adventures at schools of their own and will feel worlds away. Or maybe it's due to your teachers and favorite coaches no longer being readily available to act as a support system. 

College doesn't suck because you lose all those aforementioned comforts of home, however. Your roommate, neighbors, and dorm will begin to build a homey framework the day you move in. College doesn't suck because you miss your friends, either. It's easier than ever to keep tabs on your friends back home, almost to a frightening level. You can gauge what they're thinking about with a text, see how they are spending their money, and know where they are at every second should you want. You'll naturally find people who share your interests and passions, too, without even having to look too hard. As impossible as it might be to believe, college doesn't suck because you miss homecooked meals. You'll find new favorite restaurants, stomach your school's dining hall staples, and realize you might have some culinary genius within yourself. Better yet, college doesn't suck because some of your mentors and role models won't be around in person. Your professors will be eagerly awaiting a visit during office hours to get to know you as a person and offer invaluable advice about what you might do with your life. 

College does suck, however, for a whole other list of reasons. Everybody tells you college is the best four years of your life. If you graduate on time, though, that's a flat out lie, which is the first reason college sucks. Not because of the initial part of the statement, though. As soon as you move in come August, the clock will start counting down from 3 years and 9 months. Not four years. Your summer leading up to move in day might have provided incredible memories you'll never forget, but you were simultaneous robbed from the upcoming stage of your life. If you go home over the following summers and subtract different breaks out, you'll realize your time will be significantly dwindled. That number after some arithmetic will likely turn into a figure of less than 33 months. You're essentially graduating early, and you never even realized it. 

College also sucks because of an impossible balancing act to strike. The only way to ensure your time measures up to the romanticized level of expectations is by diving in headfirst to every option presented to yourself that you find interesting or deem intriguing. You'll meet your best friends at school this way. You'll best prepare yourself for your professional future this way. But you'll also realize this only accelerates the pace of your 3 years and 9 months. Thus, an unsolvable conundrum develops. Excluding yourself from doing everything you love will leave you unfulfilled and unhappy and make time grind to a halt. Doing everything you love leads to a great quality of life, but then initially a perception, followed by a reality, will reveal your days of happiness are hastily evaporating. Over analyzing your attempts to balance this scale will prove futile as unpredictable forces constantly exasperate the difficulty.   

It will naturally take a little longer to realize this, but college sucks because as the semesters go by the blurred recognition of where your home is becomes harder to discern. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, as you could potentially get to a place where you are surrounded by such quality relationships you feel you have two families. But as each year passes by, you'll have to suffer the emotions you get when you watch Michael Scott leave Dunder Mifflin, only magnified by an exponentially greater factor with every passing April. It will be impossible to imagine not having the faces of best friends around in such familiar places, but at the end of the day, such is an important lesson for life in general. In college, however, this distress hits you severely for most likely only the first or second time in your life, and the ideal environment you worked so hard to build around yourself will have irreplaceable people absent. The depression caused by this is downright paralyzing if it creeps into your mind too frequently, especially as your junior year draws to a close. 

Finally, college sucks because even when you might be making one of your dreams come true, you're simultaneously missing out on something else. This isn't a revolutionary statement I'm making, but in a generation so engrossed in minimizing our exposure to the crippling force of FOMO, it needs to be accepted sooner rather than later. This past year alone, I met an idol of mine, crossed two top ten items off my bucket list, and created stories, inside jokes, and memories I will eternally cherish. While all of this was going on, though, other people I care about were having a blast. Without me. I'll never be able to completely understand and thoroughly empathize that dual experience, and I won't be in those pictures subsequently plastered all over social media. That really sucks, and that's why this fear exists. But you'll come to remember the justification for why you made your choice. You'll come to learn everybody else is grappling with the same struggle of channeling the proper amount of availability to a vast network of outlets. And you'll come to acknowledge if you're too risk averse to commit towards anything, the crippling weight of your regret will inhibit you from having any shot of enjoying your college experience. 

So, to the class of 2020, college truly does suck. Trust me on this. It might take a while for this to hit you, but the insight will run you over like a truck eventually. But you know what? You shouldn't be afraid of this. Every year of college will be infinitely more entertaining, exciting, and fun than the last. Nearly every day you're at school it will feel like you're living in a magical paradise. Enjoy every minute you spend with your friends. Ponder your favorite professors' lectures before you go to bed. Take the long way to class on a beautiful day. Stay at the football games through the alma mater. 

Yet, every once in a while, don't forget to take a step back to just simply appreciate and be thankful for who and what you have in your life. Because at the most obscure, fortunate, or frustrating times, you'll get reminders that college concurrently serves as an enigmatic purgatory before you enter the real world. 

In those former moments, it will be impossible to not smile, laugh, or cry when you think about all you are able to treasure. 

In those latter moments, you'll be reminded why college ultimately sucks: Even if you follow your perfect roadmap to maximize and capture every last drop of attainable bliss, your tap will run dry before you're ready, expecting, and prepared for closing time. 

J. Nave