Woody Cavenaugh

People make decisions every day. Each decision, each choice, is based on an analysis of all possible outcomes and the decisions one makes usually have to do with what is safest. This isn't always true, but it is the minority that choose for other reasons. I myself have only made a few small decisions that require bravery. I chose to blog using my own name. I chose to remove the "costume" I refer to as "phycho repellent". I choose to refresh my gear, and begin competing again. Most of my very difficult decisions are all based "safe", and really they come down to the dumbest reasons you can imagine. I don't kill that idiot who just cut me off in traffic because I promised my mother I would never do anything that would get me on the six oclock news. Huh? Come to think of it, every decision I make revolves around that promise to my mom. Kind of silly when you put it like that, living every day in a state of denial like some sort of cloistered priest. But it is my decision and for whatever reason, I stick by my guns and live my life The Cowboy Way, or if you haven't seen that movie, I choose to live my life modeled after the teachings of Dr. Buckaroo Banzai.

But in so much as I can possible write about anything that isn't "about me", this blog isn't about me. It is about decision, risk and the people that make those decisions in the face of risk and failure. These people are the heros, and they come in all sizes. Running into a burning building to save a life is a heroic action. Facing the unknown against adversity to attempt a feat knowing that each step of the way is an uphill battle is heroic too. The top of this might be the person who fights for their lives against an overwelming enemy like cancer, where every day you fight is harder than the last and in the end you may still not win. That is a powerful and brave decision indeed. But let us not forget the smaller acts of bravery that should not be taken for granted. A child who learns to walk, or ride a bicycle. A senior citizen who embraces the internet. Fourteen women, abandonded together who pull themselves up by their bootstraps, beg and borrow, risk time, money, injury and possible failure to get into a van at 11pm drive through the night to Orlando Florida, sleep for a few restless hours to get up again, put on that begged and borrowed equipment to go out on the field and play football.

Lets forget a minute the fact that they were abandoned, lets forget the fact that they had to beg and borrow equipment enough to play, lets forget the fact that they had to pile into vans and drive themselves in the middle of the night to a strange city four states away. Take all of that adversity away and what do you have left? You have fourteen women who made the decision each and every one to play a sport that since its inception has been "men only". Forget golf, sure it has always been a male dominated sport, but golf is and never has been a collision sport between armored individuals played as a strategy game on a field of battle.

At this moment my dear wife is in Orlando Florida. She made the decision to risk convention by playing a male dominated sport. She made the decision to risk doing it even after their leader left. She made the decision to spend good money for shoes, pads, travel, hotel, and league membership to put on uniforms borrowed from here there and everywhere. She made the decision to face off against inerta and go from zero to athelete in a matter of a few short weeks. As I write this, I hope she is sleeping, probably in the floor of a hotel room. In eight hours she is going to be in a strange place, on a strange field, wearing strange cloths, surrounded by the screaming fans of the other team to play for the first time in her life the game of football. It isn't a burning building or a deadly disease, but the emotional and physical risk is great, and you know what? That makes her a hero to me. And I couldnt be more proud of her.