"600 words by Esther J. Cepeda"

No brown rings and no education dollars in Chicago's Olympic bid

"600 Words by Esther J. Cepeda"

Friday morning, fresh off back-to-back trips to Beijing for the Olympics and the Paralympics, Chicago Bid Chairman Patrick Ryan, a self-described insurance salesman, gave the Executives Club of Chicago a major rah-rah session, accented by a fly in the ointment.

Ryan showed a packed Fairmont Hotel ballroom, flanked by a who's-who of Chicago bid-ness two tear-jerking videos about the virtues of a completely privately-funded 2016 Summer Olympics in Chicago ("We're up against national governments, we're just little private guys, but I think the little guys can win," Ryan said).

The videos' key points?

Video one: to those who don't know our fair city, "which was built by immigrants," its full of surprises, including "the most exciting fine dining in America" and "the people in diverse neighborhoods." Stationing the proposed Olympic village "in the heart of the city," the narrator also referred to Chicago as "the heart of the nation" and, if we were to win the bid, "the focal point of the world."

Video two: our city is full of active and passive sportsters. This piece profiled 12 Chicago kids talking about how the prospect of a Chicago Olympics fuels their dreams to become star athletes.

Ryan also hammered home corporate Chicago's hand in funding the bid – big wink American Airlines! – and the "legacy" programs that will better Chicagoan's lives through sports regardless of whether we get the Games or not. He also went out of his way to press into his enthralled audience that this bid was "all about the people."

In fact, Ryan mentioned that as he and the rest of the 2016 Bid Committee have hosted 102 of the 112 International Olympics Committee members, they've often witnessed those members "be surprised by the ethnicity of our city."

You would be too, if you'd seen the videos. Aside from nice shots from Ukrainian, Chinese, Polish and Mexican parades and music fests, Chicago looked pretty white. For a Bid Committee whose web site goes out of its way to tell the story of the 1.8 million Chicagoans of Mexican-American heritage in this city, not a single Hispanic kid made it into the athlete video.

I won't harp on the fact there was also not a single Latino on the dais – because they were Executive's Club members, not strictly Bid Committee members – not that I could find any trace of Hispanic representation on the leadership team in an extensive clip search.

I wasn't the fly in the ointment, though. Me bringing the lack of Latino up to the politely surprised Ryan didn't amount to nearly the fuss the Rev. James Meeks kicked up when he confronted Ryan about Chicago's educational disparities.

"How can we have a world-class city and second-class schools? What is the 2016 committee going to do about changing the funding formula for public education in the state of Illinois?" Meeks had asked during the Q&A. Ryan responded with a nod back to the legacy programs he'd already touched on.

Out in the foyer afterwards, firmly ensconced in the video camera glare, Meeks held forth some more, asking – rhetorically, this time – why the business community and the media were not concerned about the school funding crisis and why Chicago should want the Olympics when there are murders tearing families apart.

OK, so the Rev has a point: bad schools and murders are indeed a crisis that demands immediate attention. Those facts – and little things like, oh let's say, U.S. born Hispanic residents like Salvador Contreras getting threatened with deportation by Immigrations and Customs Enforcement in this "city built by immigrants" – pretty much flies in the face of Ryan's happy proclamation that this city has been "bonded across racial, social and economic boundaries" by the bid.

But what's Chicago's Olympic committee supposed to do about any of that?

I don't care how patriotic the 2016 Bid Committee members are, they're business people salivating at the economic boom that could be generated by the international spotlight an Olympics could shine on Chi-town.

I can respect Rev. Meeks' desire to clang his very worthy school reform bell anywhere it'll jar the silence but shouldn't there be some more thought to picking the battles?

I mean what's next? Is he going to block the runners from crossing the finish line at the Chicago Marathon in the name of poor students? Will he stage a hunger strike at next year's Taste of Chicago? "How can you people cook and eat food in the park when there are poor children being left behind?!"

Sure, the guy knows how to get himself on TV but I'm seeing little else emerge from his very worthwhile crusade.

Chicago is a city on the take. If it beats out Madrid, Tokyo or Rio – who President Lula proclaimed had been "created by God for the Olympics," according to Ryan – there'll be all kinds out looking to get in on the Olympic action.

Meeks is just the tip of the iceberg. A delegation from every conceivable special interest group – from angry Hispanics to ticked-off animal rights nuts to a coalition of miffed left-handers – will be breathing down the necks of the 2016 Olympic bid committee until the winner is declared on October 2, 2009 in Copenhagen, and then beyond, if Ryan gets his way.

Esther J. Cepeda writes the "600 Words" & "Pregunta del Dia" columns, and is also the Chief Marketing and Communications Officer for the Illinois Student Assistance Commission. Her views and reporting do not necessarily reflect those of ISAC. "600 words" is a registered trademark of EeJayCee, Inc., Copyright 2008. May be reprinted with permission, contact eejaycee@600words.com

English proficiency requirement rears its head – unnecessarily

“600 Words by Esther J. Cepeda”

Some people should be required to become fluent in the English language: all U.S. school children, employees, and first responders like policemen and doctors. These same people would certainly benefit from being fluently bilingual in English and any other foreign language, as well.

Who should not be required to become fluent in English? Tourists, visiting family members, and sports celebrities.

Sports celebrities communicate primarily through their bodies' achievements, they rely on grit, guts and determination to scale the heights of physical perfection. They shouldn't have to prove they can conjugate English verbs to win in their chosen game.

But in a stunning international gaffe, the Ladies Professional Golf Association has decided to require foreign-born players to become conversant in English by 2009 or face suspension.

Why? So they can address the ball – "helloooooo ball" – ala Ed Norton, without an accent? So they can make even more money by being able to talk to fans?

Nope, according to Libba Galloway, the deputy commissioner of the LPGA, as quoted in the New York Times: “We live in a sports-entertainment environment; for an athlete to be successful today in the sports entertainment world we live in, they need to be great performers on and off the course, and being able to communicate effectively with sponsors and fans is a big part of this.

“Being a U.S.-based tour, and with the majority of our fan base, pro-am contestants, sponsors and participants being English speaking, we think it is important for our players to effectively communicate in English.”

Give me a break!

Did Lorena Ochoa, the reigning queen of the links, who is Mexican through and through, need some stupid rule in order to learn English? No, she just instinctively knew she'd be better off learning English.

Ditto for, just as one more example, Milka Duno, the bombshell Venezuelan race car driver who at a Chicagoland Speedway Indy race last year insisted we conduct my interview in English because she needed to sharpen her skills. She didn't need some stupid rule to know that English is the language of success in this country and if she wanted to make the most of herself here, she'd better be intelligible.

Not that being intelligible kept Venezuelan Chicago White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen from winning the world series of baseball in 2005; those of us who speak Spanish fluently know it's difficult to understand his rapid fire ramblings in any language.

Nope, the LPGA's rule, which requires an oral evaluation to prove said English proficiency, is just plain stupid. And worse than that, it's doing more to degrade America's standing in the world as the welcoming, cosmopolitan melting-pot than a million "anti-immigrant" cable TV shows.

Already the world is weighing in on the pronouncement. Jin-Young Kim, a golf reporter at Korea's Seoul Economic Daily newspaper was quoted on MSN FOX Sports' website said, "It's not fair, we think it's like discrimination. We know it's very important to speak English in America and to be friendly with people. We all know. But it's not the standard, the method to cut or pass a player on the LPGA."

Here in the U.S., Asian organizations are, rightfully, outraged. FOX quotes Cao K. O, executive director of the Asian American Federation, in a protest letter: "Foreign-born players are needed here, and they help enhance the United States' global image and competitiveness." He further wrote: "We should make them feel welcome, encouraged, and appreciated. It does not make economic sense to create an atmosphere in which foreign-born players feel unfairly treated, because English proficiency is not performance relevant with respect to playing golf."

And that's the bottom line: proving your athletic prowess on any level playing field requires no words. Think of how the world would have scoffed if the Chinese had required proficiency in Mandarin prior to Beijing's games. Would the U.S., Spain, or Brazil think of announcing, today, a requirement of host-country language proficiency in 2016? Of course not, that's silly.

And it's not like the players themselves don't want to master our language. Hall of Famer Se Ri Park told the New York Times: '“We agree we should speak some English,” said Pak, who added that she thought fines seemed a fairer penalty than suspensions. “We play so good over all. When you win, you should give your speech in English.”'

But why even go as far as penalties? Neither baseball, basketball, hockey, nor soccer – other sports with a high number of foreign-born players – have such Draconian regulations in place, they know working as a team to win transcends culture and language and unites players of all backgrounds.

Who can know why the LPGA is going down this road – their stance that corporate sponsorships hang in the balance is spurious as best, and what corporation now wants to underwrite perceived discrimination? – but only time will tell what forecasted litigation will bring.

In the best-case scenario the LPGA spends a lot of money and tries to wipe this ridiculous chapter from their history books. In the worst-case scenario, they continue making boobs of themselves, and America, until someone in a leadership position comes to their senses.

Esther J. Cepeda writes the "600 Words" & "Pregunta del Dia" columns, and is also the Chief Marketing and Communications Officer for the Illinois Student Assistance Commission. Her views and reporting do not necessarily reflect those of ISAC. "600 words" is a registered trademark of EeJayCee, Inc., Copyright 2008. May be reprinted with permission, contact eejaycee@600words.com

Sun-Times' Gasping Leaves Us All Winded

This column originally published on Huffington Post/Chicago

It's almost the era that never ends but simply keeps ending endlessly, seemingly every week. If print news were a TV character it would be Fred Sanford, except with real, honest-to-goodness heart attacks, only a few breaths from seeing his beloved Elizabeth.

In the latest turgent episode of "As the Crumbling Newspaper Industry Turns," news broke that Jay Mariotti, the $300,000-a-year (give or take a few thousand) controversial sports columnist at my old newspaper, The Chicago Sun-Times, abruptly quit.

The news was followed by reports that a new round of newsroom cuts would begin shortly. By the end of the business day newsroom gossips were naming a reporter who had been on the short list to go back in January when I, one of the newest kids on the block, was cut, as well as two columnists, two photographers and a few support staff as the next likely, though unconfirmed, targets.

This development comes, almost dizzingly, on the heels of a Chicago Tribune purge that saw barely-two-months-on-the-job managing editor Hanke Gratteau and long-timer James Warren take buyouts, along with an estimated 80 reporters dismissed because no one is making money off an electronic news system that relies heavily on syndicated wire services and a passed-along-by-a-friend distribution model.

How will the Sun-Times dismissals play out? Probably no one will be hustled out by security, as I witnessed in the days before my own January departure, though that fact was later vehemently denied.

There will be more tears, but far fewer people to shed them in a newsroom so condensed that several departments are comfortably occupying the space where just one dwelled as recently as a year ago.

And subsequent Sun-Times editions will surely contain even more freelanced dispatches of delicious depth, bought for a pittance, from ex-staffers who were bought out - or who simply chose to bail out - such as the incredible classical music writer Wynne Delacoma.

Fear, now a familiar face across all the Sun-Times News Group properties, has once again taken up residence and is clanging a loud bell for the unfortunate who have been left behind long enough to wonder whether tomorrow or the day after will be their last.

One editor, who wished to remain nameless, at a suburban Sun-Times News Group property articulated perfectly what Mariotti's bye-bye signals mean.

"There's a sense of the end being near and we don't know when it's coming but we're a day closer," he said. "When you see one of the Sun-Times' most recognizable figures saying we're dead in the water and he doesn't want to go down with the ship it's not good. The worst thing is that Mariotti is ahead of the curve."

Despite there being life after the Sun-Times, the slow, emaciative demise of this newspaper, scrappy to its core (wait until you see Thursday's edition which features fans who have vowed to return to the paper's fold now that the sharp and cutting Mariotti is gone) even in the face of cuts that have gone way beyond fat and into marrow, is nothing short of a tragedy.

Sure, some of the fiercely talented group of people will instantly be snapped up by eager employers, but the real losers are Chicagoans who everyday rely on the printed paper, not the Internet, to tell them what's what in town.

Newspapers' web sites require twice as many, not half as few, excellent reporters to feed the 24-hour news beast, not that that means anything only two days removed from the New York Times' announcement that its ad revenue fell by 17.9 percent, with less than 1 percent growth in online ad revenue despite having poured money into its "golden goose," according to Advertising Age magazine. So prospects for an online only rebirth look grim as well, despite Mariotti's cocksure pronouncement that the internet is where it's at. One longtime Sun-Times staffer candidly told me, "What Jay doesn't realize is that the internet doesn't pay."

Either way, my beloved Sun-Times is almost out of breath and though it's obvious that the city isn't mourning, and management appears gleeful at the Mariotti development - their news release quoted Editor-in-Chief Michael Cooke coolly remarking, "We wish Jay well and will miss him--not personally, of course--but in the sense of noticing he is no longer here, at least for a few days." - it's a bad week for a hometown favorite.

In a parting shot comment to a Chicago Tribune reporter Mariotti said, "I'm a competitor and I get the sense this marketplace doesn't compete," he said. "Everyone is hanging on for dear life at both papers. I think probably the days of high-stakes competition in Chicago are over."

The Sun-Times may not think Jay's departure is a loss, but his spot-on call of the Chicago newspaper market is really a loss for us all.

American Dream part two: Dream comes true…mostly

“600 Words by Esther J. Cepeda”

Saturday, June 14th, four hundred and fifty miles from home on a patch of green Toronto grass, moments after the U.S. National Anthem’s last cymbal crashed and regulation play began for the Colorado Rapids’ twelfth game of Major League Soccer’s 2008 season, it happened.

Cesar Zambrano’s dream came true: he was a professional soccer player starting in his first game with his new team. The moment he’d been waiting for since he was a child was upon him complete with mom, dad and long-time girlfriend in the stands.

“That was the best moment – when I made the debut in Toronto – because that’s something I always told my parents I’d do,” Cesar, who had just turned 24 two days before that big match, told me over the phone after a long day of training this week.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better night – the greatest thing about it was it was a sellout crowd.” Savoring it again he continued, “I started playing and I just concentrated on the game to making sure I did good. I had fun and at the end I was really tired – it’s not the same as practicing! – and that was my first game. I did good.”

Cesar certainly did. The unspectacular Brother Rice student – who, despite great odds, actually graduated high school, somehow got noticed by the Flames soccer coaching staff at the University of Illinois at Chicago, and did hard time at City Colleges of Chicago to make the grades he needed to actually get on the UIC field – was drafted as the fifth overall pick in the first round of the 2008 MLS Supplemental Draft last spring.

This is the same kid who never ever thought he’d go to college – no one else in his Mexican immigrant family had – and had to take the ACT three times because his academics paled in comparison to his footwork.

The last time I’d spoken with Cesar was back in October he was just another Hispanic kid hoping to – somehow – play professionally in a sport that had migrated to the U.S., riding the wave of transplanted Latino culture, but hadn’t created many opportunities for its biggest fans. I hadn’t given Cesar much thought until I read the New York Times’ story about Edgar Castillo, a U.S.-born soccer player overlooked in his native country but now a rising star on Mexico’s professional soccer scene.

The story noted something I’d been talking about for awhile – that U.S.-born Latino players are often underrepresented in soccer-strong high schools and colleges and mostly ignored until other countries give them their big break. A FIFA adviser was quoted thusly: “Now we have more American scouts looking at the Hispanic community and trying to bring players into our national camps.” After I shrieked hallelujah, I got to wondering “whatever happened to…”

Well, in addition to adjusting to the rigors of playing with the big boys, number 33 Cesar Zambrano has also been adjusting to…the food.

“I miss my family, my girlfriend, and my mom’s cooking – all I do is eat out! We have Argentinian [teammates], his wife cooks and we always take advantage when she invites us over.”

Cesar also told me all about getting drafted: “The general manager, the coach and the assistant coach welcomed me to the family, I was like, wow – is it really true?!” and about leaving the Windy City: “I was nervous, I get back whenever I get a break.”

And he told me about fitting in. You see, at UIC, Cesar was the odd-man-out, the team’s first Hispanic co-captain and the only Latino as far as the eyes could see. The big leagues are different – he has two other U.S.-born Latino mates and three from Argentina, but still...

By my meticulous count, there are a total of 384 MLS players, 48 of whom are Latin American imports, and a mere 15 (maybe 18, the MLS people wouldn’t verify) U.S.-born Hispanic players out of a pool of 250 Americans. For a country inching toward a 30 percent Latino population, those aren’t stellar numbers. 

“It’s the same but a little better. At UIC I was the only Mexican, but here I don’t really look at it. We all get along and there’s a lot of good competition, everyone wants to be a starter and be a better soccer player so nobody looks at who’s Mexican,” he chuckled. “We’re all just a big family.”

So all’s well that ends well, right? WRONG!

I was shocked to hear that Cesar did not finish his Criminal Justice degree at UIC before he was drafted. His coach had told me he was a super-talented guy headed for graduate studies, but that was…before.

I did not hesitate to remind Cesar that in our last talk he’d said, quote: “In the future, I think there are going to be more Mexicans, more Hispanics going to college. Hispanics never give up; they always want more. But the percentage is not high enough yet. People need to know if you have a dream you follow it.”

“Yeah, my dad’s always calling me asking about that,” he said, hoping I wasn’t going to have a full-on heart attack on the phone. “I only have two electives left and I can take two on-line courses to graduate with the Criminal Justice degree. Hopefully I’ll get to maybe walk on stage when I go back.”

He assured me he’ll never give up: “I have to graduate after everything I went through. And I wouldn’t want to be working a hard job like my dad’s in construction. It’s tough – I’ve worked it.”

Esther J. Cepeda writes the "600 Words" & "Pregunta del Dia" columns, and is also the Chief Marketing and Communications Officer for the Illinois Student Assistance Commission. Her views and reporting do not necessarily reflect those of ISAC. "600 words" is a registered trademark of EeJayCee, Inc., Copyright 2008. May be reprinted with permission, contact eejaycee@600words.com

American Dreamer: a Chicago kid’s story, part one

(Editor’s note: this column originally appeared on pg. A16 in the Sunday October 21, 2007 Final Edition of the Chicago-Sun Times under the headline: 'If you have a dream, you follow it.' It is reprinted here as a prelude to tomorrow’s follow-up to this young man’s story.)

by Esther J. Cepeda

A Mexican kid uses his soccer skills to get into college on an athletic scholarship – an easy goal, right?

Think again.

"At Brother Rice Catholic school, my soccer coach used to always tell me, 'Get good grades, make sure to take your ACT, it'll be important,' and I'd say, 'Yeah, yeah.' I never paid attention," said Cesar Zambrano, a 23-year-old midfielder for the University of Illinois at Chicago Flames men's soccer team.

"I never did it. I had it in my mind I didn't want to go to college – nobody in my family went to college. Now I'm going to graduate in May."

Zambrano was like scores of Hispanic kids around the city who grow up with soccer in their veins but never turn that into a vehicle to college. Many, like him, think they'll join a pro soccer team "somehow," knowing that anything beyond high school is such an expensive, far-flung possibility that while families encourage "getting your education," the realities of getting into and paying for college rarely get real consideration.

"My friends started working – when you're young and start making $500 a week or more and live with your parents, life is nice and easy. That's why not a lot of Hispanics go to college," he said. "Some just didn't want to try, though the talent is out there."

Luckily his Brother Rice coaches, recognizing talent that made him an MVP and leading scorer in high school, pushed him to aim higher despite low grades. "I applied to all these colleges – I had to take the ACT three times, and I couldn't get in even though I played soccer well."

He ended up at Richard J. Daley College, where for a year, with the encouragement of UIC soccer coaches, he improved his grades.

"I was scared getting into it; I didn't think I was capable of doing it. Even while I was there I didn't know if this is what I wanted to do," he said.

Zambrano got on track to qualify for a partial athletic scholarship at UIC and a shot at a good career regardless of where soccer takes him.

Zambrano is now the first Hispanic co-captain of the team under head coach John Trask, making above-average grades toward his undergraduate degree in criminal justice, and spends time talking to middle-school Hispanic kids about doing well in school. "Not too many Hispanics end up with college degrees," he said. "I go talk about my whole experience and tell kids not to be in gangs or into drugs."

Hispanics don't get into college at the same rate as other ethnic groups. In 2002, the Pew Hispanic Center reported that of students enrolled in college, 1.3 million were Hispanic compared with 11 million white, 2 million black and 1 million Asian/Pacific Islander.

Once there, many can't hack it for financial and cultural reasons. U.S.-born Zambrano, who describes himself as Mexican American, took it all in stride.

"On the team, I'm the only Hispanic, so I'm 'the Mexican guy.' When we do marketing and pass out fliers, they turn to me and say, 'You go to Pilsen.' Some of them even think I was born in Mexico," he said. "It's much different now, and most of my friends are not Hispanic; they're English, Bosnian, African, black and white."

Trask says he's pushing for grad school. "There's so much more to him than being a soccer player. I told him he could be an alderman by 35. He's a Mexican-American kid paving the way for others."

Zambrano hopes that's the case. "I know I need to do good for the young guys that come see us. I set an example for them," he said.

"In the future, I think there are going to be more Mexicans, more Hispanics going to college. Hispanics never give up; they always want more. But the percentage is not high enough yet. People need to know if you have a dream, you follow it."

Esther J. Cepeda writes the "600 Words" & "Pregunta del Dia" columns, and is also the Chief Marketing and Communications Officer for the Illinois Student Assistance Commission. Her views and reporting do not necessarily reflect those of ISAC. "600 words" is a registered trademark of EeJayCee, Inc., Copyright 2008. May be reprinted with permission, contact eejaycee@600words.com

Take me out to the ga-la: dining for a diabetes cure

"600 Words by Esther J. Cepeda"

"The Silent Assassin" has more than one meaning in Javier Vazquez' young life.

At 32, the Chicago White Sox number 33 – and former All-Star Yankee – was so-dubbed for his quiet manner and killer arm. This is a guy who, from 1998 to the present, compiled a career 114-113 record with 1,806 strikeouts and a 4.29 ERA in 321 games. According to Wikipedia, he's struck out more batters than any other Puerto Rican pitcher in history.

Aside from notoriety among die-hard Chicago baseball fans, though, Javier is not on par with other famous – or should I say "infamous" – local sports stars. This is a guy who keeps his head down; a nice quiet family guy who was just living his American Dream until another "silent assassin" in his life took up residence in his home.

"It was in spring training in 2006 when I first started with the White Sox that my daughter got sick," Javier told me last week. "She started throwing up, she threw up like four times and we were like 'wow, that's weird' so we took her to the ER at the hospital. The doctor immediately checked her glucose levels and her sugar level was really high.

That's how we found out. She went from like a perfectly normal child to sick in a matter of hours. It was pretty hard news."

Javier's daughter Kamilla was just two years old when she was diagnosed with Type 1 – known as "juvenile" – diabetes. What he and his wife Kamille didn't know that day at the hospital was that Type 1 diabetes, a disease in which the body can't convert the sugar in food into energy, is one of the most common chronic diseases in school-age children.

About 1 in every 400 to 600 kids in the U.S. has Type 1 diabetes. Each year more than 13,000 children are diagnosed with type 1, and about 75 percent of all newly diagnosed cases occur in kids younger than 18 years of age.

With zero family history of Type 1 Javier and Kamilla had no idea that though every race and ethnicity has prevalence of T1-diabetes, Latinos have a disproportionately high incidence of it, with Puerto Ricans having the highest rates of the disease, according to National Diabetes Information Clearinghouse.

"Before it happened she was drinking a lot of water and going to the bathroom a lot, which are the main symptoms, but we didn't know," he said. "The doctor told us her pancreas just stopped working and that it was nothing we did – we didn't give her too much candy or sugar."

Kamilla will turn five in August and it's been a road filled with the typical milestones and joys, but the frustrations – you can imagine – have been a challenge, too.

"It was really tough at the beginning because she didn't know. She was only two years old and lucky for us we got her an insulin pump with a skin catheter so we didn't have to give her a shot," he said.

Javier and his wife Kamille also had to kick the usual parental vigilance way up.

"When we go out we always have to be prepared, we have to carry extra stuff just in case," he said. "When she goes to school we'll have to prepare when we go to a birthday party or whatever, we'll have to be aware of the amount of cake she eats. We'll just have to make sure we don't make any mistakes."

Not that the Vasquez' are complaining. They know full-well that despite their precious baby being saddled with a life-long disease, they've got it easy compared to so many others and they're doing something about it.

Monday August 4, the newly established Javier Vasquez Foundation is holding its first annual K's for Kids Gala – benefitting diabetes research at Children's Memorial Hospital – at the Hotel Intercontinental in Chicago (email info@javiervazquezfoundation.org for details).

He and Kamille will leave Javier Jr., Kamilla – who's only just now starting to become aware that she's not completely well – and baby Kariana, home for an evening of schmoozing in hopes of finding a cure for this all-too-silent killer of a disease.

Buy a couple of tickets or make a donation, but don't lament that it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Thankfully, diabetes doesn't run in his family but philanthropy does, and families living with children who have Type 1 diabetes will be better for it.

"Obviously we wanted to help other people," he said, recounting his previous charitable work with the foundation he set up for deaf kids in his native Puerto Rico. "My mom was always helping others and this is just the way for us to do the same."

Esther J. Cepeda writes the "600 Words" & "Pregunta del Dia" columns, and is also the Chief Marketing and Communications Officer for the Illinois Student Assistance Commission. Her views and reporting do not necessarily reflect those of ISAC. "600 words" is a registered trademark of EeJayCee, Inc., Copyright 2008. May be reprinted with permission, contact

eejaycee@600words.com

Diaz the Lionheart

"600 Words" by Esther J. Cepeda

You haven't seen the true heart of a fighter until you've seen a man – a heavily unfavored hometown underdog matched against a legend – still jabbing in the 12th round, still counting points, still believing he could win even though half his world has gone red from blood squirting out of the shiny eggplant of an eye that's getting pounded.

You haven't seen a man really fight until you've seen him forget the paycheck, forget the stats, and fight for something more important than his life: his honor.

After David Diaz "won" the WBC Lightweight Title in August of 2006, he didn't shout it from the rooftops. His victory came after he beat a guy in a come-from-behind tenth round TKO, was set to fight the reigning champ, then was handed the belt after a cheating scandal. Not exactly bragging rights material.

Diaz, a Chicago native, three-time Golden Gloves champ and 1996 Olympic boxing team fighter, was welcomed into August 2007's cham-peen-chip "War for Four" bout against Mexican boxing legend Erik "El Terrible" Morales as a minor obstacle in Morales' quest to become the first Mexican boxer to win four world championships in four different weight classes.

The snickers about David's 2006 "victory" didn't get whispered behind his back so much as they were aired out in public. No one was snickering, though, when David won the 2007 fight – in Chicago, in front of a crowd roaring Morales' name – by a unanimous decision, forcing Morales to retire on the spot, grumbling he "was robbed" as he slinked back to Mexico. Of course, it took only moments for the new whisper to become that Diaz only won because Morales was over the hill.

It's now a year later and 32-year-old Diaz (34-1-1, 17 KOs), is still the underdog (4-1) and scheduled to take on Manny "The Mexicutioner" Pacquiao (46-3-2, 34 KOs), a 29-year-old Filipino with a penchant for beating down Mexicans, this Saturday night, June 28, at the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas.

So I had to know: what's going to keep Diaz on his feet through what promises to be a brutal meat grinding between two lefties this time?

"This is the one where I get the recognition," he told me over the phone after a Wednesday afternoon presser in Las Vegas. "I'm fighting a guy who's in his prime – he's pound for pound the greatest boxer in the world. This is the moment I gotta get my star, this is it right here and I've got to go for it."

And, props aside, the money's not too shabby, either. Diaz is looking at an $800,000 payday and the opportunity to make way more in subsequent match-ups. "Winning this fight, with this purse, I’m going to set up my kids for college no ifs, ands, or buts about it," said the guy who's told every cash-mentioning reporter that he is, in fact, currently tooling around the northwest side of Chicago in a '91 Honda with no air-conditioning. "If I capitalize on this, I can set up a bigger purse and for me my family, for my parents, this is a big deal."

It is a big deal – this one's for bragging rights. "The good thing about it is me, Mike (Jabb Gym trainer Miguel Garcia), and Jim Strickland (the ace cut man who kept David's eyeball from popping like a tick last year) and the coaches, we’re together cracking jokes hanging out and just enjoying the companionship," he said. "I'll keep it loose for the next few days, we can start getting all uptight and fussy the night of the fight."

It's an HBO pay-per-view bout but I'll be giving you the proverbial blow-by-blow on this site in real time starting after the pizza arrives but before the intros start at about 10 pm central standard time.

I asked David what pre-fight ritual I can look for to report as he steps into the ring Saturday, he said: "I always, every time I step into the ring, I just pray and put myself in the Lord's hands and that’s pretty much it."

Esther J. Cepeda writes the "600 Words" & "Pregunta del Dia" columns, and is also a Director at the Chicago-based United Neighborhood Organization. Her reporting and opinions do not necessarily reflect those of UNO. "600 words" is a registered trademark of EeJayCee, Inc., Copyright 2008. May be reprinted with permission, contact

eejaycee@600words.com

Loving Lorena

"600 Words" by Esther J. Cepeda

Like Roosevelt Hicks longing for the same respect in business he finally got on the links of Pittsburgh in August Wilson’s play Radio Golf, I longed to roam the back nine.

Not as a pro, nah, just good enough to go out on a Saturday with rich white people and not make a fool of myself.

To me, like to many others, getting out on the green was the ultimate symbol of "making it." Never mind the satisfaction waltzing into private clubs previously closed off to women and minorities – the passage of time mostly took care of that – to me, gaining access to the venue of big money deals and long-lasting partnerships was the important part. I knew the very fabric of American business was forged out in the sun somewhere between the fifth and the twelfth hole, and I wanted in.

Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Immediately after Tiger made golf accessible to just about anyone – heck if a "Cablinasian" could become a golf rock star, what would stop me from donning the silly shorts? – and I’d finally bought a set of golf clubs, fate stepped in. I shattered my wrist, and summer of 2004 passed without me making it to the driving range.

Leave it to me to be a Juana-come-lately.

It’s not enough that one of the top golfers in the world is a tiny woman who, as a child, fell and broke both wrists but somehow emerged with magical carpals. Not enough that this young Lorena Ochoa – all of 26 and just won the Sybase Classic for the third straight year on Sunday – is an international superstar and a national hero in Mexico. Yes, that country where the only white ball that gets around grass is made of leather and aimed at a net, and the only multi-millionaires golf.

Nope, my moment has passed because golf is on the outs.

In towns all over America dilapidated golf courses are being turned over to suburban mommies and their energetic broods who need a place to kick soccer balls between snacks. And just in time. After all, modern man is too devoted to family to spend endless hours perfecting his double-cross on an ocean of chemically treated, water-hogging, ecologically abominable turf. What sort of monster leaves his (or her) family at home and drives his SUV out to the suburbs to walk on sublime eco-terror? And in these economic times, who can afford it?

Not me and not a lot of people. According to the National Golf Foundation and the Sporting Goods Manufacturers Association the total number of people who play has declined or remained flat each year since 2000, dropping to about 26 million from 30 million. The number who play 25 times a year or more fell about a third to 4.6 million in 2005 from 6.9 million in 2000, and those tee-ing up eight or more times a year is slipping as well. In my neck of the woods angry words and white, dimpled insults are being driven home as park districts struggle to placate residents fighting over what to do with thirsty, decaying golf courses.

It all adds up to me not discovering whether my wrist’s metal plate would help my fade. Never will I get to know my bogeys from my birdies, or my shambles from my scrambles. Seal a big money deal while swinging through the sweet spot? Not meant to be.

Farewell to my fairway fantasies, the great game shall never be mine. I guess I’ll just have to live out my golf glory on TV through the great Lorena. Not the same as mulligan-ing with money men, but it’ll do.

Esther J. Cepeda writes the “600 Words” & “Pregunta del Dia” columns, and is also a Director at the Chicago-based United Neighborhood Organization. Her reporting and opinions do not necessarily reflect those of UNO. “600 words” is a registered trademark of EeJayCee, Inc., Copyright 2008. May be reprinted with permission, contact eejaycee@600words.com