Last week I wrote this blog post, "David Blaine: Pushing the boundaries of sport", that became somewhat controversial within the Fox Sports Blog community. Some readers liked the post, while others did not. Some readers understood my point of view and what I was trying to accomplish. Those readers tended to enjoy the piece. Others did not understand my aim and voiced their disapproval. One reader even went as far as calling the post "asinine" and the "most absurd and insulting thing" that he had ever read. At first, some of the criticism and comments got to me. Then I remembered an exchange between Matt Damon and Robin Williams from Good Will Hunting that really put things into perspective for me...

Sean: Thought about what you said to me the other day, about my painting. Stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me... fell into a deep peaceful sleep, and haven't thought about you since. Do you know what occurred to me?

Will: No.

Sean: You're just a kid, you don't have the faintest idea what you're talkin' about.

They may not be kids, but you get the point. A few people read my blog and thought that they had me pegged, just like Will thought he had Sean pegged after seeing his painting. Not hardly. Look at this comment for example:

"Some people are just smart enough to be jaded, because they actually pay attention to the world around them, and don't take themselves and others so seriously."

Smart enough to be jaded? That is the most sad and pathetic statement that I have ever heard. I live in L.A. and because of that people totally expect me to be jaded. I am the farthest thing from being jaded. That's why I am out here, pursuing and living my dreams. I believe in myself . I believe this is truly the land of opportunity. I believe that God made us to be extraordinary, not extra ordinary. I also believe that not everybody is simply in it for the money. Some of us, hopefully many of us, are doing what we do strictly because we are passionate about our craft. Most of all, I believe that great things can, and often do, happen.

As a sports fan I share a very similar philosophy. How can I possibly be jaded after what I have witnessed?

George Mason making the final four. Tom Brady, a sixth round draft pick, out-Montana-ing Joe himself. The 1980 U.S. Hockey Team. Michael Jordan, who was cut from his high school team, going on to become the greatest basketball player of all time. Kerri Strug. Cal Ripken's iron-man streak of playing in like a million games in a row. The Doug Flutie hail mary. Kobe scoring 81. Christian Laettner's catch-and-shoot buzzer beater. Derrick Thomas recording seven sacks in one game as a tribute to his late father. The improbable 2003 World Champion Florida Marlins (special thanks to Steve Bartman). John Elway's drive. And most of all, autistic high school basketball manger Jason McElwain finally getting his shot and raining threes on his way to putting up 20 points in a mere four minutes.

And that's just from the top of my head. If that's not enough, I have two examples that are a little more intimate. One of my boyhood hero, and another one that I witnessed in person.

The Knick-Killer Thriller

The first example is my boyhood hero Reggie Miller. On May 7, 1995 Miller-who had to wear Forrest Gump brackets on his legs as a boy to correct leg deformities-pulled off the most amazing thing that I have ever seen take place on a basketball court. What makes it even more amazing is that he accomplished this on basketball's biggest stage, Madison Square Garden aka "The World's Most Famous Arena", in a playoff game. In the waning seconds of the game, Miller's Indiana Pacers trailed their biggest rivals, the New York Knicks, by six. Everyone thought that the game was over. Everyone in the crowd. Everyone watching the game on TV. Everyone playing in the game. Everyone. Everyone except Miller.

BAM! He nailed a three. Then he stole the ensuing inbounds pass from Knicks guard Greg Anthony... BLAM! Another triple. Suddenly, the game was tied. Spike Lee and every other Knicks fan in the house had been silenced. Knicks guard John Starks was fouled. He stepped up to the line and... missed the first free throw... and the second. Choke job. Miller somehow snagged the rebound away from all of the big fellas underneath the glasss and was fouled in the process. He chalked-up his hands, stepped up to the line and... nailed them both. Game over. Miller scored an insane 8 points in 8.9 second to lead the Pacers to an impossible victory that allowed them to ultimately win the series.

Most guys pop in Rocky I-IV (I am still in denial about the V and upcoming VI installments) when they need inspiration. Not me. I hop online and watch Reggie Miller go nuts. It reminds me that it's truly never over until that last tick comes off of the game clock, both in the world of sports and in our own lives.

The Hall Way to a Sea of Red

Being born in Kansas City and raised in Missouri, I am a Kansas City Chiefs fanatic. Regardless of where I have lived since, which is all over this country, I always make it back to Arrowhead Stadium at least once every year. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Chiefs' venue, you'd be hard-pressed to find a louder stadium with better fans anywhere in the NFL. That place is an 80,000-people-strong sea of red that blows the decimal meter to smithereens.

Last season the first game I went to was the fourth game against the Philadelphia Eagles. My brother Zach, an equally devoted Chiefs fan and a Kansas City resident at the time, had even scooped up two fifth-row endzone seats for us. We were jacked up to say the least. Our Chiefs were looking strong at 2-1 (the lone loss being at Denver on Monday Night Football) with both of our running backs, Priest Holmes and Larry Johnson, rolling. The Eagles were also 2-1 and had gone to the Super Bowl and nearly won the year before. This was a big game. The stadium was rockin'.

The Chiefs received the opening kickoff and came out on fire. Priest was having his way with the Philly defense and QB Trent Green and WR Eddie Kennison were hooking up right and left. The Chiefs built a 17-0 lead and worked the home fans into a frenzy. Zach and I were four big beers deep and were playfully jawing with some pretty cool Philly Fans that were wearing custom-printed Eagles "81" jerseys with nameplates that read "Misin-Linc" (which seem completely ridiculous now after Terrell Owens' exodus from the "City of Brotherly Love", but I digress).

Then the Chiefs blocked a 40-yard field goal and got the ball back with good field position. We thought the game was over. Then on 2-and-14 Green went to the well one too many times. He completely telegraphed a pass to Kennison that Eagles CB Sheldon Brown picked off and took to the house. The score was now 17-7. The crowd was dead quiet. My brother and I put both our beers and our heads down. Why, Trent? Why? This was a game again. The "Misin-Linc" crew was suddenly riled-up and talking smack to essentially the whole stadium (Especially to this vocal Chief's fan who they kept calling Freddie Mitchell. Who, other than being black and having cornrows, looked nothing like Fred-Ex whatsoever.). We were worried. The defending NFC Champs were back within striking distance, and Philly was going to receive the ball to open up the second half. However, with 5 minutes left in the second quarter, there was still ample time for our Chiefs to score again and regain control of the game

It wouldn't even take that long. Before my bro and I could even pick back up our beers, Chiefs Pro Bowl Return Specialist Dante Hall had broken the ankles of a few Eagles special teamers and was streaking down the field towards our endzone. When he hit the Eagles' thirty-yard line we knew he was gone. We were already in the aisles going ballistic. Us, this Mexican dude and "Fred-Ex" were celebrating with each other like we had been best friends for twenty years. We were running up and down the aisles slapping hands with other Chiefs' fans. I saw a soccer mom high-five a NASCAR fan. I saw a middle-aged yuppie embrace an iced-out teen. I saw a sixty-year-old man crowd surfing. While I was rejoicing I ran down the aisle and saw Dante Hall doing his patented "X-Factor" celebration while exclaiming "We're Kansas City, baby!"

He was right, during that moment there were no colors, creeds, religions or sexes that separated the crowd from befriending one another. We were all the exact same thing-Kansas City red.

Blaine Revisited

I have witnessed countless moments like this both on TV and in person. I have seen sporting events, concerts, films, real life events, etc... both bring people of all walks together and inspire them. This is why I disagree with many of the comments that were made in response to my David Blaine post. As sports fans we all identify and connect with different players, teams and storylines. Those of us who are not jaded all believe in something. What that something is tends to depend on who we are as people. While Lance Armstrong may have touched a large portion of the world (and myself as well) by overcoming cancer to win one Tour de France after another, I personally connect with Blaine more. That was called "asinine." Is it asinine that I relate to Blaine being inspired by his mother's bout with cancer (my mother survived breast cancer)? Is it asinine that because of this inspiration that I, like Blaine, strive to be fearless in the pursuit of my dreams? Is it asinine that I also believe that the human mind, body and soul can accomplish amazing feats? No, no, and no.

That is one of the greatest things about both life and sports-there is something out there for each of us. There are so many stories out there that we can each connect with something. That's what I love about sports blogging. Thousands among thousands of points of views, none are wrong. As for who inspires me sports wise, again it's Reggie Miller, Dante Hall, and Jason McElwain. Three athletes that believe that they can overcome any obstacle they face, whether it be size, strength, physical disabilities or time left on a clock. Despite what one poster suggested, I do not idolize these athletes. I simply admire and look up to them and am man enough to admit that. They inspire me. So does my Mother, Blaine, Jay-Z, Barack Obama, Peter Jackson, Bono, Philip Seymour Hoffman, etc... but that's just me.

Jason McElwain after his legendary performance... "I was really hotter than a pistol!"

I believe that people can be brought together. I believe that people can accomplish great feats. Most of all, I believe that sports often inspire both the union of various walks of people and remarkable achievements. After all, just take a moment and look at how many of us have been brought together here on this site, celebrating great accomplishments while we ourselves strive to achieve.

So, call me a wide-eyed romantic. Call me an optimist. Call me a freakin' dreamer. Continue to criticize my blog. I don't care. I won't become a jaded person or sports fan and I won't change my belief that sports can both empower us and bring us together. After all, it is my voice and my blog. I don't have to be jaded, I can stir up the pot, and I can formulate my own opinion. Everyone can. Like Sean's painting and the colors he chose, to each their own.