Category Archives: Life
One shot, one goal
In one of my last after-school teaching jobs, I was in the classroom and had just assigned some in-class work. So, as the class was working on the task, there was silence in the room.
The walls, however, were thin and I could hear parts of a conversation from next door.
The student, E****, was saying something to one of the head teachers. I believe E**** might have said something like, “I want K.P. to teach me.” The voice was soft, but those were the words I could make out. The head teacher then responded, in a louder voice, “You don’t want K.P. to teach you?”
I heard that part clearly because the walls were thin and the head teacher’s voice carried through. So, the student E**** might have said that and I missed the “don’t” when she said it. But next thing I knew, I could hear the head teacher getting on the phone to speak in Korean to the boss.
Soon enough, I was no longer teaching the student E****. I had always assumed it was because management wanted to spread hours around and make other instructors feel good by giving them classes. But later on, I noticed it was awkward when E**** needed extra classes for last-minute essays/projects and I was asked to help out.
For me, the irony was that I wasn’t good enough to teach her, but now I was suddenly good enough as a last-minute backup because others weren’t available to cater to her last-minute projects?
Anyway, over the years I have heard students — maybe they were joking, or maybe not — telling me to my face that they’d like to get me in trouble so I wouldn’t teach them, because they wanted to get out of those classes and wanted no classes, period. Some instructors would view that as disrespectful. Normally, I played along.
I would say something like, “Well, if you get me fired, don’t worry — all I have to do is make a few phone calls, and there’ll be people lining up to hire me.” I said that every time when I played along to their comment about getting me fired. Those students would laugh and think I was bluffing or exaggerating.
Well, by December 2024, I was still working a regular full-time job, but I was no longer getting any meaningful hours in after-school classes.
For a while, I didn’t do anything. One day in December, I looked on Indeed and found one teaching job that interested me. I emailed the contact person — whom I do not know, and I had no connections — and attached my resume expressing my interest in the position.
Within 24 hours, I had received an email back asking me for an interview in two days. (Actually, to be more exact, it was just after 25 hours. I emailed at 9:37 a.m. on a Monday morning, and I got a response the following day at 10:45 a.m.)
It was one shot, and one goal.
It really didn’t surprise me. My resume speaks for itself. My credentials speak for themselves. My background, my experience, and my passion speak for themselves.
After the interview, I was immediately given a trial class scheduled three days later. I did the trial class, and within an hour I was offered full hours for the rest of the week. I did regular hours for two weeks, filled out my hours and submitted them (on the final day of the second week), and I was paid (by e-transfer) the following day (ie. the day after submitting the hours). I was given more hours for after-school classes in January and onwards.
I’m not sure if there was ever any doubt. Basically, it was one shot, and one goal. I applied to that one place on that one day, and I got the job.
My resume speaks for itself. My experience as well. … I’m not sure why any serious student would ever say something like “I don’t want K.P. to teach me” the way that E**** or the other earlier students who wanted to get me into trouble did.
I was never dead, but I’d like to say I’m back from the dead, without really even trying in the sense of sending out hundreds of applications.
It was one shot, and one goal.
Same idea as day before, but took it too early…
I feel there’s sometimes an opportunity to find big plus numbers in tie games for -1.5 in hockey. One night earlier, I found the opportunity at +450 in the Panthers/Rangers game.
Tonight, it was the Sabres/Stars game in a 2-2 tie in third. But this time, I took it too early, with 13 minutes left, and the number was not as good (only +375). If I’d waited until 10 minutes remaining, then the number would have been bigger.
Dallas took the lead later on and scored into the empty net to cash the -1.5.
Obviously, this will not work out every time. But it’s worth taking a shot at a big number — with a good team in a tie game.
Incidentally, earlier in the day, I was about to do the same in the Canadiens/Golden Knights game… but fortunately, Montreal took the lead at 3-2 just before I could do it.
We’ll see when the next opportunity will be. Lots of other winning picks today, so it was a good day.
A gut call and it worked out
The Panthers were coming off back-to-back shutout losses and were tied 3-3 with the NY Rangers at home… 10 minutes left in regulation.
The number for -1.5 was just too big for me to ignore. I’ve seen how the better team is tied in the third and then scores the go-ahead goal and then adds an empty-netter. It was a risk here but I took it. It won.
Shortly after I took it (I saw it with 10 mins left), Florida scored. The Panthers got the empty-net goal with less than a minute left.
Turning Silence into Strength: How I Finished “Baseball Card Heroes” Without the Support I Thought I Needed
Sometimes in life, we expect certain people to be there for us—the friends, family, and mentors we rely on to cheer us on and offer support. We tell ourselves, “If they just believed in me, I could accomplish anything.” But what happens when the people we think will stand beside us aren’t there when we need them the most?
This is my story of finishing my book, Baseball Card Heroes, even though I felt like the world around me was silent… and even though the friends I thought would support me didn’t show up the way I imagined.
I’d been working on my book for a long time—Baseball Card Heroes has been a dream of mine for years. It’s not just another sports book. It’s a love letter to the game, a tribute to the players who have inspired me, shaped my life, and taught me about perseverance. Writing it was not just about documenting baseball history; it was a personal journey, a way for me to connect with my heroes and, in some small way, become one myself.
But here’s the truth: when I started, I thought I’d have the support I needed. I envisioned long conversations with friends about ideas, people rooting for me, offering encouragement. Instead, I faced silence. No replies to my messages. No feedback. It felt like I was walking this journey alone, and at times, I wondered whether my dream was even worth chasing.
There were days when I wanted to give up, days when I questioned whether I could continue without that external validation. It’s a tough feeling to want to share something you’re passionate about, only to hear crickets in return. I thought about all those moments where friends had cheered me on in the past and wondered why they couldn’t do the same now.
I asked myself: Why do I need them? Why do I need their approval to validate this passion?
The answer came slowly but surely: I don’t need them to make this dream come true.
As much as I had hoped for that external encouragement, I had to turn inward. I had to dig deeper, rely on my own belief in the project, and trust that if I kept working, kept writing, I would finish this book—regardless of the silence surrounding me.
With each chapter I wrote, the absence of external validation became less important. Instead of looking for applause from others, I focused on what I was doing. I thought about the heroes who had inspired me—the athletes, the legends, the underdogs—and I realized that this book was about them. This was my gift to the game, my way of giving back to something I loved so deeply.
I didn’t need anyone else to tell me it was worth it.
And then, the day came. I had written the final sentence of Baseball Card Heroes. There was no big celebration. No party. No high fives. I sat in my chair, quietly, with the realization that I’d done it—despite the silence. Despite the moments of doubt. Despite the friends who didn’t show up in the way I thought they would.
It wasn’t about them. It was about me. And it was about the heroes who had shaped my life.
Finishing Baseball Card Heroes taught me a powerful lesson: Sometimes, the only person you need to believe in you is yourself. The journey isn’t always going to be easy, and the people you think will cheer you on might not be there when you need them the most. But that doesn’t mean you can’t finish. It doesn’t mean your dreams are any less valid.
If you have something you’re passionate about, something that drives you—even if you feel like you’re doing it alone—keep going. You don’t need anyone’s permission. The only thing you need is to keep moving forward, even if it feels like you’re the only one in the room.
As for me, I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. The journey wasn’t easy, but it was mine. And the silence? It just became the background noise to the story I was telling—one about perseverance, passion, and the realization that sometimes, you’re your own biggest fan.
Baseball Card Heroes is now finished, and I’m more excited than ever to share it with the world. But the most important thing I learned along the way was that it was never about waiting for others to believe in me. It was about believing in myself.
And that, in the end, is all I really needed.
Overcoming Adversity: A Hockey Play-by-Play Announcer’s Tale
I am proud to say that I do play-by-play announcing as a side job on weekends. It’s something I look forward to every Saturday and Sunday.
Now, in any given season, we often find ourselves facing challenges that seem to come out of nowhere. For those of us in sports media, the unpredictability of each event can turn even the most routine game into a test of our adaptability, patience, and resilience. Recently, I had one of those experiences—an event that tested my ability to overcome adversity, but ultimately reaffirmed why I love what I do.
As a play-by-play announcer for a local amateur hockey team, I’ve always prided myself on creating a great experience for fans, whether they’re in the stands or watching from home. That’s why I put a lot of focus on making sure the camera angles are clear, the equipment is set up properly, and the broadcast runs smoothly.
However, in a recent game, things didn’t go as planned.
Arriving at the arena that day, I was greeted by a surprising sight: the stands, which are normally there and the place where the equipment is set up, had been removed. Instead, there was a single tower left in its place. As someone who has a fear of heights, this immediately put me on edge. I rely on my usual spot to set up the camera and equipment, and now I had no access to it. I was not about to climb up the tower; besides, I would not be able to carry the equipment up safely.
Naturally, I contacted the operations staff to ask for assistance, hoping that someone would be able to help me get the setup back to something that was closer to being normal. As a possible solution, I asked specifically if a scissor lift, a mechanical device which the facility had, could be provided. Unfortunately, I was met with a lack of understanding, as they were either unable or unwilling to offer a solution, not even allowing access to the scissor lift. I asked if there was anybody else I could speak with, but the answer was no. It became clear that I would need to find a way to make do with what I had.
As if that wasn’t enough, the camera person assigned to cover the game wasn’t there either. There had apparently been a miscommunication about the scheduling between him and the team manager (who was out of town for other team-related matters), so the camera person I was counting on was absent. The team manager quickly scrambled to call in a fill-in camera operator, but that person didn’t arrive until five minutes after the game started.
At this point, I realized I was on my own. The game was about to begin, and the situation wasn’t ideal, to say the least. Without my usual elevated platform, I was forced to set up my equipment just above the ice level. As you can imagine, this drastically impacted the view of the game for both me and the viewers who had paid to watch the game that was being streamed.
To make matters worse, the parents at home, who were eager to watch their kids play, quickly voiced their displeasure by contacting the streaming company. They couldn’t see the action clearly, and they let the people in charge know it in no uncertain terms. I was made aware of these concerns during the first period via text messages and emails. There was a lot of frustration in the air, and it would have been easy to let that affect my focus.
But instead of letting the situation get the best of me, I decided to take it in stride. I focused on what I could control—the broadcast. I kept my commentary clear and engaging (as best as I could), doing my best to paint a picture for viewers at home who couldn’t attend the game. I stayed calm, even as the setup wasn’t ideal, and did my job with the same professionalism I always strive for.
Adversity is a part of life. In sports, it’s something athletes face every day, whether it’s an injury, a tough opponent, or an unexpected setback. As someone who works behind the scenes, I’ve realized that adversity can happen at any time, and it’s how we respond that truly matters.
When things go wrong, it’s easy to get frustrated, discouraged, or upset. But in those moments, the best thing you can do is adapt. Embrace the challenges, find solutions, and do your best. It might not be perfect, and it might not go according to plan, but that’s where growth happens.
For me, the lesson was clear: no matter what obstacles are thrown my way, I can always rely on my ability to do the job, even when things aren’t ideal. And sometimes, that’s all you can do—give it your best effort, stay positive, and keep moving forward.
Looking back, I’m proud of how I handled the situation. Despite the difficulties, I remained focused and delivered a broadcast that allowed viewers to enjoy the game, even if the camera angles weren’t what they were used to. I learned that overcoming adversity isn’t about making everything perfect—it’s about pushing through and doing the best you can, regardless of the circumstances.
Every day is an opportunity to grow and improve. And when life throws you a curveball, you have two choices: let it knock you down or rise above it. I chose to rise above it—and that, to me, is the true essence of overcoming adversity.
k. p. wee 