UNCLE BUCK'S

Yesterday, my brother invited us to go bowling in Round Rock, Texas, the suburb of Austin where I went to grade school. We met at Uncle Buck's Fishbowl & Grill Restaurant, which is an entertainment offshoot of the Bass Pro Shops outdoor chain. In fact, this Uncle Buck's was located immediately adjacent to the Round Rock Bass Pro Shop.

I am not a bowler, having only bowled once in my life back in medical school, but I was happy to go along and give the kids a chance to have fun with their cousins. We were assigned a seating section shared by those using the first and second lanes. Our group entered our names on the sign board above our lane and began to play. A few minutes later, a family of four arrived, and we shared our area with them.

The couple we shared the space with was in their thirties with two sons - one who must have been seven or eight and another who was probably fourteen. The older son had a knife strapped to his belt, and the younger one appeared to be much less of an immediate threat. Because they entered their names on the signboard, I came to know that the kids were Asher and Hayden and that the parents were Peter and Mel. They bowled one game together and shared a cheese pizza. We did not directly talk with them, but they were cordial and polite as our groups took turns bowling on our adjacent lanes. After the first game, Mel and Asher went off to play video games in the adjacent arcade while Peter and Hayden stayed to bowl a second round. What struck me most was just how normal and down to earth they were - just out for a family get-together with mom in her jeans with holes in the knees (presumably for fashion reasons, rather than poverty) and the kids not seeming to have a care in the world.

In the next lane, a biracial African-American/Caucasian family was seated. They, too, seemed quite at ease. At one point, the infant began crying, and one of the women attempted to comfort the child by showing the baby a video on the phone. It would not have been my parenting choice, but who am I to judge?

As I took in the events at Uncle Buck's over the two or so hours I was there, I came to realize that this was not just an anthropological adventure. This was a view into the heart and soul of "the real America" - hard-working people trying to live within their means and do right by their families.

It is with men and women and boys and girls like those at Uncle Buck's that our country's future will be decided. The decency and humanity I saw in those individuals gives me hope for 2020, even if they chose a different path than I would have preferred in 2016 and 2018 - if they chose at all.  I do hope that whomever emerges as the front runner in 2020 finds a way to address these families' concerns as well as they attempt to address core Democratic voters like me. For it is only by finding common ground that we will be able to make progress and re-connect the frayed ties that used to bind us. That afternoon at Uncle Buck's was just one small step in that direction.

THE SYMPATHIZER

In recent years, the Vietnamese-American writer Viet Thanh-Nguyen has written several wonderful books about his experiences in Vietnam and coming to America during the war, including The Sympathizer and The Refugees. The former is about a Vietnamese General who is caught between two worlds, and I could not help thinking about this book when I meet Mr. D, who was a former Vietnamese General, himself.

The General was in his mid-60s and had been living in America with his son for several years when he was first diagnosed with prostate cancer about 5 years ago. Despite surgery, his cancer had returned, and he was referred to my care. He spoke very little English, and so we always arranged for a translator at his visits. However, at the end of each visit, the General always said, "You are MY doctor. Thank you, MY doctor." It was his way of showing me his gratitude and the respect that he thought I deserved.

Unfortunately, Mr. D's cancer was quite resistant to treatment, and it morphed into an even more aggressive form called neuroendocrine prostate cancer. Despite our best efforts to slow the cancer down with chemo, it continued to grow and left him weak and in pain.

Because of his deterioration, I asked him to bring his son, who worked as a mechanic and who had not attended previous appointments, the next time he came in. It was at this visit, that I gave them both the bad news that his cancer was no longer treatable and that I thought we should focus on maximizing his comfort and quality of life at home with hospice.

The General was obviously upset about this, but not for the reasons you might have suspected. He said he had lived a long life for which he was thankful, but he also recounted many of the hardships from that life including a gun shot wound during the war and seeing his country come apart. He fanned his arms to describe how we are all connected and said he had one final wish - to go home again to Vietnam.

I sympathized with him and his son and explained that I was concerned about his ability to make it home to Vietnam safely. He was insistent, however, and I said I would do anything I could to help him. For his pain, we called in strong narcotics, and we arranged for equipment at home.

The day of his trip, I received an urgent page from my nurse. The General had arrived at the airport, and his weak and cachectic appearance had startled the airline staff at the check-in desk. They were concerned that the General might not make it to Vietnam without experiencing a medical emergency - a concern I, too, shared. However, I knew that getting home was the General's final wish - a wish I knew I had to do everything in my power to help grant.

My nurse Pam helped to draft a letter to the airline, to which I affixed my signature. Pam somehow got the letter into the right hands at the airport, and the General was permitted to fly home.

Last week, Pam reached out the General's son to see how he was doing. His son said that they had made it to Vietnam two months ago without needing to divert the plane. Upon landing in Vietnam, the General was taken directly to the hospital to treat his uncontrolled pain. He died there in the hospital a few days later.

There are many definitions of home. Certainly, a sterile hospital bed does not generally meet that definition. However, the General was no usual man. It was home that we were able to get him and where he took his last breath.

IF YOU SEE ME, DON'T SAY HI

If you See Me, Don't Say Hi is my pick for favorite book of 2018. While there may have been better written or well-received books this year, none resonated with me as much as this debut collection of short stories by Neel Patel. While comparisons with the Indian-American writer Jhumpa Lahiri have no doubt been made, Patel's focus is not on the Indian diaspora. Rather, Patel gives voice and life to the offspring of that diaspora - first generation Indian-Americans like me.

In a recent interview entitled, "This Indian American Life," Patel recounted his experiences growing up as a first generation Indian-American in rural Illinois. It is the experience of an outsider - an experience with which I could easily identify from my own upbringing in rural Canada and suburban Oklahoma and Texas - that made this book so powerful for me.

Whether describing the angst of an Indian-American teen who realizes he is gay, a young, recently divorced Indian-American women whose community casts her out, or Indian-American brothers who  fall out of love, the desire for acceptance and community is a theme woven throughout the eleven stories in this collection.

My favorite of the bunch revolves around a young man named Krishna and his experiences growing up in Illinois in the penultimate story of the book. He is a character who is always on the outside looking in, which creates blind spots about navigating adolescence and adulthood. That Krishna's story comes full circle so powerfully in the book's final chapter- in the most tender and heartbreaking of ways - is a tribute to Patel's ability to capture his characters' humanity and their complexity.

Keep an eye on Neel Patel! He is a writer who is just getting started, and I hope he has many more tales to tell!

ELECTION '18

The final results are not quite in, but it is safe to now say that 2018 was a massive blue wave, bordering on a tsunami! While, the Democrats appear to have lost slight ground in the Senate, they did pick up a seat in Arizona and are hotly contesting a runoff election in Mississippi, of all places.

That we are licking our wounds about close losses in Georgia, Texas, and Florida tells you all you need to know. There is now a belief in our party (and in the other party) that the entire country is in play. Those who think that the electoral map is fixed and that Obama voters were gone forever can think again. Just look at the new governors in Michigan, Kansas, and Wisconsin, all Democrats, and the newly elected Senator in Arizona and Montana.

What this election tells us is that people are hungry for leadership, inspiration, and someone who can lead us out of the morass we are in politically and economically. There is no question that people are energized by the clown in chief. It is our duty to keep them engaged and send him back to the circus.

So many candidates inspired people this year. However, the truly inspirational ones were the campaign volunteers. My friend Kate gave her money, her talent, and her time to Beto O'Rourke, who came within several percentage points of pulling off an upset in the Texas Senate race. Her enthusiasm and efforts were truly inspiring, and it is movements led by people like her - not the candidates - that will turn our country around. My own dad is now getting involved with Indivisible and is prepared to do whatever it takes to elect Democrats in Texas and nationwide.

So, in the end, I am hopeful. Candidates matter. Elections matter. There are no moral victories, but this year truly reminds us that we are very close to taking the country back. Who's in for finishing the job in 2020!

THANKFUL

On this day, Thanksgiving Day, there is so much I am thankful for. First, I am constantly amazed by my family. My mom, dad, and brother, and sister may be half a continent away, but they are always in my thoughts, and I feel their unconditional love. My friends are such an important part of my life, and I am privileged to have friends from my time in Portland all the way back to friends from middle school. They, as much, as anyone, helped to make me into the person I am today. Finally, Kathleen, Nicholas, and Cate are the most important people in my life. They give me purpose and make me reach beyond my capacities to set an example for them. In the end, it is people who make life worth living.

I see patients with deathly illnesses everyday and study cancer, so I am constantly reminded how important health is. I have had minor medical issues and may one day face a major illness, myself. Until then, I am grateful for my health and for the ability to do the things I wish to do unimpeded.

Work brings much joy and meaning to my life, and I am so thankful for my teams and colleagues at work. They are the ones who make difficult experiments and transformational discoveries possible. I am so lucky to be a part of my community.

There will always be challenges and disturbances in our lives and our world and terrible presidents! However, we are living in one of the greatest eras in human history. We should remind ourselves of that during the low times. Life is not perfect, but we should strive to appreciate the good in the world while trying to improve the less good (see Election 2018)!

Everyday could be Thanksgiving, if we can only remember that Day. Hug those whom you love a little closer, be a little kinder, try to make the world a little better because life is truly until further notice.

THE NEXT BIG CHALLENGE IN YOUR LIFE

I have become quite the fan of podcasts in the past year. My favorite episode - one that I keep coming back to - is a talk by David Brooks on the Aspen Ideas Podcast called, "The Second Mountain: The Next Big Challenge in Your Life."

You can watch the entire episode here:

In the podcast, Brooks first talks about the first mountain - a very self-centered and personal ascent to gain notoriety or expertise in one's field of study or job. That is a natural ascent for nearly all of us who are lucky enough to work in a field that allows for growth and skill acquisition. However, after climbing that mountain over several years, one's perspective changes. What seemed so important - personal success, fame, power - lose their luster. It is at this time, when one is in "the valley" phase after descending from one's first mountain, that true reflection can happen.

I have spent the past 11 years trying to become a successful prostate cancer researcher and oncologist. There are many who are more accomplished than me, but I have been very fortunate to successfully obtain grants, publish manuscripts, and gain some degree of respect by my peers. While I am grateful for all those things, I often ask myself what would truly make me feel fulfilled? What mountain do I want to climb next?

There is probably not one right mountain, but what I keep coming back to is that fulfillment lies in making that ascent with the right climbing party. What does that look like? It would be a group of people who put excellence first and ego second. People who want to scale the greatest heights that others view as unascendable. People who view the journey as being as important as the destination.

I often think of soccer when I think of this second mountain, and Barca is paradigmatic. The best players come to that club not to finish their careers but to really let their careers begin. For it is by playing with the best in one of the most storied clubs that one can truly take off. I think of youth players like Messi, Iniesta, or Xavi, but also players like Rakitic, Neymar, and Suarez who learned to play at the highest level imaginable. I suspect for them, the privilege of playing at Barca with such a tremendous collection of individuals has been a reward in itself. I, too, dream of this sort of transcendence when the entire team is pushing in the same direction, where each person has a part to play, and where great victories are almost a given. That is my second mountain - to continue to grow and improve while also improving those around me.

Now, I just need the courage to take that first step.

WINNING NUMBER

A37105496. That is the number my Permanent Resident, or green card, was emblazoned with when I came to the U.S. in 1984. Despite the fact that it has been 15 years since I became a citizen and no longer needed that document, I still remember that number. That is because your life is linked to your "papers" and your "alien number" if you are an immigrant - or at least an immigrant who was fortunate enough to come to the U.S. through traditional channels

I thought more about my number in recent weeks when news broke about the forceful separation of parents and children who were undocumented immigrants in the U.S. These people did not have a number like me, but they had an even greater right to be here.

My family came for educational opportunity from another first world nation - Canada. On the other hand, the families torn apart by this administration's policies were seeking refuge from abject poverty, abuse, or even death. Who is to say that they have less right to come here than someone like me who "stood in line."

I do not know the hardship and pain those families feel. When I try to imagine what it would feel like to lose my children, or even to be forcibly separated from them for a few hours or days, my heart breaks. We are all immigrants, and we can all take a stand against this injustice. Call your congressperson, vote him/her out of office if they do not fight for immigration reform and the rights of those who are undocumented, and thank your lucky stars that you or your ancestors were able to come here when they did - probably by the same means as those from Central America today - by not standing in line.

While times are surely dark, there is reason to be hopeful and to believe that change will be possible. My own brother was sworn in (finally) as a U.S. citizen last week. That is one more Texas voter! Now, I need to convince my sister, who is still a Canadian citizen despite having lived her for 34 years, to do the same before it is too late.

May we never forgot the privilege and responsibility of being an American citizen, and may those who persevere against all odds to come here to start a better life get that opportunity to do so with their families and lives intact.

Vote!

TAKING SIDES

I have always tried to teach my children that justice is the highest principle and that character is the highest value. However, sometimes life and its events are even greater teachers than me.

Recently, on graduation night, Nicholas gathered with all of his seventh grade classmates at a friend's house.  Late in the evening, the children retired to the lawn to eat their pizza dinner and watch a movie. During the movie, a group of boys began to throw candy at one of Nicholas' classmates. Despite protests from this boy - and Nicholas who was sitting nearby, things escalated. Next, pizza was thrown at the boy, hitting not only him but Nicholas and other boys nearby. Undeterred, full cans of water and soda next rained down from the sky, hitting several boys.

While it was clear what was happening, apparently Nicholas and this boy were the only ones who called out these perpetrators or attempted to stop their behavior. In fact, several boys may have actually encouraged the perpetrators to escalate their actions. Finally, Nicholas and the boy who had apparently been targeted found the courage to find Kathleen and explain that kids were misbehaving. Kathleen and other parents quickly descended on the area and ended the party. It is a good thing I was not there because I am not sure I would have handled things as calmly as the parents who were on site.

As he left the party, Nicholas was literally shaking and in tears. His grief was somewhat assuaged by kind words via text message from many of the girls in his class who had witnessed the events. 

The next morning after learning what had happened, I spoke to the parents of the boy who had been targeted. Unsurprisingly, they were unaware of what had happened because there son did not share it with them. These parents expressed gratitude to Nicholas for speaking up and for standing up for their son. I told them that no thanks were necessary and that it was my hope that their son would do the same thing for Nicholas if he were ever in that situation.

After speaking more with Nicholas that day, I found many things troubling. First, apparently none of the children who witnessed these events appeared to be surprised by the behavior of the perpetrators. Second, no other child attempted to intervene to help the boy who had been targeted.  Further, that Nicholas said that these same perpetrators often coordinately target this boy at school to try and provoke him sickened me. In those instances, Nicholas said he often tries to calm his friend down and explain that these boys are just trying to get under his skin. 

Nicholas, himself, was bullied by classmates during sixth grade. While that seems to have stopped, it clearly left a lasting impression on him. When I asked him then about those bullies’ actions, his response was simple: these boys did not have a problem with me for six years, so maybe the problem is with them rather than something wrong with me. I am so proud that he stood up for his friend at the party, despite knowing that he may now be at risk of having a target on his back again. I assured Nicholas that the school and I would take serious measures to ensure that this behavior did not happen again and that those responsible would be held to account.

Growing up is hard. Co-existing with people who are different is hard. Learning how to navigate one’s own self-esteem and interpersonal interaction issues is hard. That is why it is critical that we prepare all children to navigate these challenges - especially when they are still young and impressionable.

Several weeks ago before the events of the party, Nicholas shared with me that he was studying “Night” and “Anne Frank" at school. When I heard that, I shared with him a powerful quote from the German theologian Martin Niemoller. It is a quote that was very relevant during the Nazi era, the night of the party, and the next day after learning more about his classmate's experiences with bullying. It is a quote that one cannot be reminded of too frequently:

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out— 
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— 
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Whether it is the horrors of bullying, the totalitarianism of our President and his enablers, or the injustice and indifference of the Supreme Court, we all have an obligation to make our voices heard and to stand up to power. That is the lesson I have tried to teach Nicholas and Cate. 

I have never been prouder of this boy and know that he understands the importance of taking sides. In the cruel and tumultuous world we find ourselves in, I will try my best to live up to his example.

GOOD NIGHT, SWEET PRINCE

They say that all goof things must come to an end. However, I never really dreamt that they would come to an end for Iniesta.

I was written about Iniesta before here, and words cannot capture what he has meant to my life. To say that he was an inspiration would not do his deeds justice. In fact, there are no words - only feelings - that capture what this man means to me.

Much of our life is drudgery, biding time, or waiting for something big to happen. However, that was anything but what I experienced week in and week out tuning into Barca or Spanish national team games for the past 8 years after I first discovered football and fell in love with the game.

Iniesta more than anyone kindled that fire in South Africa with his metronomic passing and the way he made the game come to life - like an athletic symphony or ballet. I had never seen anything live - save my children - as beautiful as that and not sure I will.

The statistics will support my claim that he is the greatest Spanish player of all time and the greatest midfielder of all time. However, statistics do not capture what Don Andres did on the field week in and week out. He always gave it his all. He always found a way to get out of the most precarious situations without losing the ball and with flair to boot. He always put the team first and prized team victories over individual ones. That he never won the Balon d'Or awarded to the best world football player is a crime, but I know he will not lose any sleep over this. He was too busy playing with his friends and achieving feat after feat.

Rather than lament the things he achieved, we will miss how he achieved them and the beauty in every touch, dribble, pass, or connection. When I see him move with his teammates - the understanding so omnipresent - I cannot help but feel jealous. For this is the greatest gift life can give us - human connection, especially with those who are not bound to us by blood or marriage. It is what I have found so damn evasive in life: understanding and appreciation at once. For me, Iniesta will always personify that, and watching him play reminds me of what we should aspire towards.

The soccer announcer Ray Hudson said it best yesterday when discussing what Iniesta's next destination might be. He said I hope he goes to a league where I will never see him play again. He wanted to remember him on his last night in a Barcelona shirt leaving on top, rather than playing with third rate teammates without his full faculties. I agree. The images below taken hours after his last match in an empty Camp Nou will always haunt me because they speak to how much this player means to the club and how much the club means to him. However, these images pale in comparison to the many delightful moments Iniesta has given me. He is a man for all seasons the likes of which we will never see again.

Good night, sweet prince.

HERO

There are many people who have had a profound influence on my life: my parents, my brother and sister, my friends, and teachers and mentors. However, there is another individual whom I have never met who has had an equally profound influence on my life: Andres Lujan Iniesta, the diminutive midfield maestro for Barca and the Spanish National Team. Tonight, may have been his last final in a Barca shirt, so I thought it was a fitting time to pay tribute to El Illusionaista (the ghost) as he is known to his fans.

Eight years ago, I had never even kicked a soccer ball. For me, soccer was something that came around every four years at the World Cup. I might have watched two full soccer matches prior to 2010, but all of that changed when I witnessed Iniesta and his Spanish teammates take on the rest of the world in South Africa. That they appeared to ping the ball around like a video game and imperiously put their opponents to the sword was part of the appeal. More than that, though, it was the work rate and anticipation, and imposition of their philosophy of play that I quickly came to recognize and admire. That tournament culminated in a lively final against the Dutch, and the game was only decided in extra time by guess who: Andres Iniesta.

After that final, I sought out Iniesta and many of his teammates on television and immediately recognized the Spanish National Team style in that of Iniesta's club team FC Barcelona. I have witnessed them play on television hundreds of time in the past eight years and have even had the goo fortune to see them play in person some 6-7 times. Each time, fortunately, Iniesta has graced the field, and it has always been a pleasure to see el maestro at work.

Beyond his exceptional vision, anticipation, touch, and evasiveness, Iniesta is also a gentleman - a true personification of everything that is good in sport and in life: honest, hard-working, virtuous, and passionate. We may never see a player like him again, which is why I feel so honored to have witnessed him play in the prime of his career.

Life's transitions are hard, and I know Iniesta will do whatever is best for him and his family at the end of this season. He has been linked with a big contract in the Chinese Super League, where he might play out his final years. However, today's performance in the Copa del Rey final will hopefully make him reconsider retirement from Barca.

On the field today, Iniesta turned back the clock and dictated play as the midfield general. He was all over the pitch, combining with his teammates, and he even managed to score a beautiful goal off a one-two pass with Messi. A fitting tribute to this little man, who is a giant of a player. The final scoreline was 5-0, what they call in Spain a "manita," or little hand for its five fingers. After tonight, we all raise our hands to Iniesta just like the fans at the Wanda Metropiltana Stadium as we bow to him and bay "Iniesta, Iniesta!"

Good night sweet price. Thank you for helping me to appreciate the beautiful game known as football. We will never forget you! You have touched me in more ways than I can count. Thank you!

A DEATH IN THE FAMILY

Last week, we had a joyous time in Barcelona seeing the sights, visiting with friends, and taking in two Barca matches. In those 2 games, Barca outscored its opponents 7-2. That scoreline might lead you to believe that Barca looked invincible. However, I was left with a very different sensation- one of frailty.

That both wins came through a mix of good fortune and opponent ineptitude are not the only explanations for my feeling. The team seemed to lack any cohesiveness and was merely waiting for Messi to work his magic to get them out of a jam. Thus, yesterday's woeful, disgraceful 3-0 loss and exit in the Champions League did not come as a complete surprise.

This is the third straight year Barca has been eliminated in the Champions League, having lost one of the two legs of those ties by score lines of 2-0, 3-0, and again 3-0. Their was an utter lack urgency, attention, and steel in all of those defeat, but none more than yesterday.The team was simply unrecognizable.

The game plan should have been to go to Rome to win. With that mentality and a crucial away goal, Roma would have need 4 goals just to level things and get to extra time. However, Barca never attacked, never controlled, and seemed to merely sit back and hope to absorb the countless blows Roma dealt. Ninety minutes is an eternity, especially when your team is playing like a steaming pile of dung.

There is plenty of blame to go around. The coach did not prepare his side well. The team had not been rotated sufficiently in recent weeks. The lineup was poor. The lack of substitutions until very late on - and the incorrect substitutions - when they happened were the major determinants. However, the 11 players we fielded were good enough to not lose 3-0. They did not do their jobs, plain and simple, and they are to be derided and criticized for going out this way and letting down their fans and club.

Mes que un club is supposed to be Barca's motto. That means that life is about more than just results. That, too, means that how one plays -win or lose - matters, and if one is not giving one's all, one fails even if the scoreline says otherwise.

I do not see a road back for Barcelona in Europe unless they rediscover what once made them great. A strong and thriving development system whose principles and ideals and way of playing flow throughout the club's system all the way to the first time is a major missing piece. Having the best players at each position who understand what our philosophy is and who can execute it is also needed. Many players will need to make way, and we should buy the best while also promoting our best from within. Valverde, the coach, has brought pragmatism, but his run of non-defeats in league and Champions League feel pyrrhic. He lost the fans' belief in him last night, and he may have also lost the players'.

Gutted is the only word I can use to describe how disappointed I feel. It is as though a family member has died once again anew this spring like the last two years. To find peace, I am going to need to meditate more, or I am going to need Barca to work its way out of this morass.

CATE'S GLORY

Cate is many things: smart, driven, opinionated. However, one area we have been working on is empathy. For this reason, I was touched by a recent story her teacher shared with me that is excerpted below.

Before we get too far into break, I wanted to drop you a quick note to let you know about a noteworthy moment in P.E. on Friday. First, I'll give you a little background information. We were playing Gagaball, and the important things to know about the game for this anecdote are: 1) there are no teams, so everyone is against everyone else and when you get "out" you are in Jail until the person who got you out gets out or a Jailbreak is called, and 2) in addition to the conventional way of getting out by being hit by a ball, if you fall down (and a body part other than your hands or feet touches the ground), you are out. Cate, is very goodat Gagaball--which means that the players she gets out are often stuck in Jail for a long time. On Friday, she got --- out and when he was finally released by a Jailbreak, he stood up and she got him out again. The next time he re-entered the game, he lasted a little bit longer, but, again, Cate got him. He sat down in Jail grumbling, "I guess I'll wait for another Jailbreak..." and started tearing up. Cate happened to be nearby, noticed him tearing up and looked like she was about to ask either what was wrong or what she could do, but promptly realized that she was likely the reason why he was crying. So she fell down. She just dropped to the ground and then moved herself into Jail. I nudged --- to let him know he was back in and his face lit up and he jumped up with excitement as he ran back into the game. I caught Cate's eye and quietly told her Thank You because that was the most compassionate act of kindness I have seen in a long time.

What a story and what a girl! I hope she continues to grow and that people remember her at least as much for her kindness as her imperiousness!

SEMI-FINALISTS

This month, I traveled to San Jose for the Northwest Regional Futsal Championship with Cate and her team. This was our third trip for a futsal tournament in San Jose, and our girls did not disappoint.

In the first game, we dominated a team from Santa Clara. In the second game, our girls came out on top. It was amazing to see Cate start off the attacks as the equivalent of a central midfielder and pull the strings. She scored one of our two goals in our third match, which we won 2-1 and which sent us into the semifinals.

That semifinal match was a rematch against a larger, more physical group of girls who had defeated us last year. Because of last year's loss, we knew what we would be up against. However, that only seemed to increase the intimidation factor. Their girls kicked, lunged, and pushed while our girls tried to play a game of futsal. We went down 1-0 at half but were still very much in the game. In the second half, we withdrew further into our shells while the other team came out even more aggressively. In the end, we lost 5-1 - an unfair scoreline given that our girls were clearly the more skilled side. However, one does not win on style points; one wins by putting the ball in the back of the net.

Despite, this I am really proud of the way Cate and her teammates carried themselves and the way they tried to play the game. When Pep Guardiola took over as Barca coach in 2008, he did not promise trophies, which he went on deliver anyway. Rather, he promised to play football that would make the fans proud. For that reason, Cate and her teammates can hold their heads high. I can't wait until next year!

SATURDAY ROUTINE

Every weekday, I wake up around 5:30. This gives me the opportunity to do my morning routine: catch up on the news, make oatmeal for breakfast, and do my stretches. On weekends, I am cursed with waking up at the same time, but I am often joined by Nicholas who rises early, too.

Part of the reason Nicholas wakes up is because he is allowed to do screen time beginning at 7 AM. However, he also uses the time between waking up and screens to work on his homework. We never have to remind Nicholas to do his work, and he is surprisingly organized when it comes to his assignments. I give Arbor all the credit for that.

This morning Nicholas showed me his latest assignment to discuss Islam and the rise of Islamaphobia in our world. He had written an outline of what he hoped to cover and had already come up with a nice topic sentence: "There are many misunderstandings about Islam, and Islamaphobia is on the rise." I cannot recall what my seventh grade writing assignments were, but I can assure you they did not have the seriousness and social relevance of Nicholas' latest one.

I am amazed by how much this boy is growing and changing everyday. However, one thing remains constant: Nicholas is still my best friend, and I cannot get enough of him. I will be sad the day he leaves me. Until then, I will cherish each day - and especially my Saturday mornings - with my guy.

EXCELLENCE

The theme of excellence is something I think about a lot. This is not only because I consider myself a perfectionist but also because there is so much mediocrity in this world.

This weekend, I had the good fortune to watch Cate play four games in a futsal, a version of indoor soccer, tournament. Even though Cate is nine and most of her teammates are ten, they were playing in the 11 year old division because they knew that playing girls their age would not have been challenging enough.

In the first game, we came up short by one goal against a group of girls who appeared much older than 11. In fact, there were so big that I wondered if several of them had driven themselves to the facility! Our girls were undaunted and went on to win the next two games and finish second in their group. This resulted in a rematch with the Amazonians in the final.

It was a tight affair that was significant for the many hard fouls committed by the other team. They scored first, and then we equalized. We had a chance to take the lead after they committed a foul on one of our players in the box. Our coach picked Cate to take the penalty. Partly this was because she is so dependable but also because she had scored a beautiful game winner from a shot from 20 feet out in the closing seconds of our second match. Cate bravely stepped up and fired to the keeper's left, but unfortunately their keeper stopped the ball-no doubt because of her large size. Very late on, the other team scored again, and we could not counter. It finished 2-1.

Despite losing the final, I am so proud of these girls. They gave it their all, comported themselves well, and outplayed all their opponents regardless of what the scoreline said. In one word, they are excellence.

DAN FOSTER, M.D.

Last week, I learned of the passing of a giant of medicine-Dr. Daniel Foster, M.D. I had the privilege of getting to know Dr. Foster during my four years in Dallas when he was the Chair of Internal Medicine at UT Southwestern. Simply put, no one had a greater influence on my career than Dr. Foster, and I am what I am today because of him.

I decided to go to Southwestern in 1998 for Internal Medicine residency because I wanted to be trained in the most rigorous environment possible so that I would feel comfortable managing the sickest patients imaginable. Based on that metric alone, my education there was a success. However, I came to learn much more than excellence in clinical medicine and patient care. At UT Southwestern, I was surrounded by so-called "triple threat" physicians who were excellent doctors, teachers, and basic researchers. Dr. Foster was foremost among them. That he could solve the toughest case presentations at our daily meeting called morning report while also quoting the latest findings for the scientific journals Nature or Science was truly remarkable. His example of excellence in everything he did made me realize that that is the life to which I aspired-a life of medicine and science.

His life story, like mine, was not typical for someone who would go on to dedicate his life to both medicine and science. In fact, like me, he had no formal research training until after the completion of his internal medicine residency training in Dallas. What he did have was a passion to make discoveries that improved human health, and his accomplishment in diabetes and metabolism are far too numerous to list.

What I loved about him most though was his humanism, his empathy, and his ability to inspire. Since leaving Southwestern,  I have met no one like him, and I feel honored to have had four years with him - the four best years of my life.

There will never be another Dan Foster, M.D., and I will never be able to truly repay him for all he gave me. What I do promise is to pass on what excellence is and to try to inspire the next generation of physicians and scientists. That Dr. Foster would be proud of, and that means a lot.