Yesterday, Monday August 18, 2014 was the 80th birthday of Roberto Clemente, the greatest baseball player I will ever see. As a young boy growing up in Pittsburgh, I saw Clemente play in Forbes Field, and then Three Rivers. I saw Clemente play in the 1971 World Series in which my Pirates beat the Orioles in seven games and Clemente, who hit safely in all seven of the world series games was voted the MVP. Clemente played in all seven of the 1960 world series when the Pirates upset the powerful NY Yankees. Clemente also hit safely in all seven of those world series games.
Clemente played the game with a passion that burned. I could see it, but as a young boy not fully cognizant of the racial politics of the 1960's, I didn't fully understand his pride in being a black-Latin man, his quiet arrogance in being the best, knowing he was the best, and not playing the part of a safe, friendly, subservient man of color in a racist society. There is a story of Clemente and his young wife walking into a furniture store in Pittsburgh after a few years in the majors, and the salesman sizing up this young, dark skinned couple, and telling them there might be some old furniture in the bad of the store they could look at a a discount. Such was the way people of color were treated in our country less than half a century ago.
I could write forever about Clemente's mistreatment and the pride he had that refused to let him back down. I could talk about how I would watch with envy the basket-catches he would make below his waist on high fly balls, or the arm that would throw runners out who hit a single to right field and improvidently took a bit of a turn, only to find themselves tagged out after a Clemente rocket of a throw. I could write about that throw in game seven in the 1971 series where he picked the ball up off a ricochet off the wall, effortlessly spun and threw the ball on one hop to third base, a perfect strike- a throw some say was the greatest they ever saw. I could talk about how I saw the red in his eyes in game three at Three Rivers, when he thought he had hit a home-run down the first base line, but the umpires ruled it a foul ball. Seething, he stepped back into the batters box and nearly took the pitcher's head off with a line drive up the middle on the next pitch. That was, incidentally, the first night world series game ever played, and I was there. Thank you Dad and Grandpa.
What I want to talk about is, that in this era of baseball by the numbers, Clemente did it all differently, and many would say wrong. His batter's stance was unconventional. He swung wildly, and often at the first pitch, eschewing the conventional wisdom to work the count in favor of the batter. As he got older, Clemente would coach young players in the winter leagues in Mexico and Puerto Rico. He would tell the hitters they couldn't get a hit if they didn't swing. It's advice no one would give any hitter today.
And yet, Roberto had 3,000 hits. He led the NL in batting four times. In eighteen seasons he batted .319 and hit 240 home runs. And like Frank Sinatra sang, he did it his way.
As I walk though the courthouse in Miami, I see young Assistant Public Defenders and young Assistant State Attorneys learning their craft. And they are indoctrinated with a set of rules, passed down from era to era: don't ask a question you don't know the answer to; keep your opening statement short as jurors lose patience with you; try your case in voir dire if you can.
Why? Has anyone looked at these rules in the last forty years?
Cross examination is a lawyer's best chance to get at the truth. Why limit yourself?
Opening statement is the first chance the jury gets to hear your client's side of the story. Why not craft a compelling story. Make it interesting. Capture and hold the jury, no matter how long it takes.
Voir Dire is the most important part of the case. A time to learn what a juror thinks. Why waste your time trying to indoctrinate thirty or forty people, many of whom don't have an open mind and never will.
Clemente didn't follow any of the conventional rules. He played the game his way, and at a level rarely if ever seen. And damn if he wasn't the best baseball player I will ever see. And beyond his athletic abilities, he had a pride about his skills, and himself, and he refused to follow the rules of America, 1960. He wouldn't eat in the back of any damn restaurant that wouldn't serve him with everyone else. And ask any Hispanic who saw the post game interview in 1971 after the Pirates won the world series if their heart didn't swell with pride when the first thing Roberto did on national television was speak in Spanish to his people in Puerto Rico. That was something NBC didn't expect and that was something that "wasn't done".
We are all born as individuals. And the best of us- the best trial lawyers, the best ballplayers, the best leaders, the people who make a change and make a difference, see the way things are done and ask "why?"
Bill Gates did it. Steve Jobs did it. Rosa Parks did it. Bobby Kennedy, as memorialized by his brother Teddy did it. The founders of our country did it.
And I hope that in the times I get the opportunity to work with young lawyers, I remember to instill a little bit of Roberto Clemente in how they approach their work, and maybe, their life.
PLR.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Monday, August 18, 2014
YOGA AND TRIAL LAW
You wouldn't know it by looking at me, but I practice Bikram Yoga 3-5 times a week. I'm 6'3 255 on a good week, and 2__ when I succumb to the Dark Side of the Force: chocolate chip cookies.
But there are valuable lessons I learn from spending 90 minutes in a 105 degree studio surrounded mostly by women half my age wearing impossibly small pieces of spandex as they maneuver their bodies into seemingly impossible positions.
Breathe. When starting an asana, a beginning yogi will hold their breath trying to put themselves into a difficult pose. Remembering to breathe is important.
During a trial or hearing, I will often will look across the aisle at my counterpart in court when something unexpected occurs during their case- hopefully because of me- and notice that they are holding their breath as the unexpected unfolds. When it happens to me, as it did recently during the early days of a lengthy federal trial in March of this year, the first thing I told myself as the government's witness started talking about the application of an unexpected and seemingly devastating law, was to breathe. "Slow down. Remember to breathe. Remember the yoga...." I said to myself. Then I thought of the motto of Mission Control at NASA during the Moon shots: "Work the problem." I remained calm, opened my laptop, logged on to Westlaw, and saw that the statute the witness was referring to was wholly inapplicable to the charges against my client. While the direct testimony was seemingly very damaging, my cross not only remedied the problem, but seriously damaged the government's case because their expert witness was forced to admit his entire theory of my client's culpability was based on a law wholly inapplicable to the charges in the case.
A Bikram Yoga class is 90 minutes. I describe it as 90 minutes of hell. And before I proceed further, here's a plug for my great Bikram Studio: Bikram Hot Yoga Miami right off of SW 27th Avenue and US 1. Here is their Facebook. They make everyone feel right at home, beginner, or expert, and I've yet to have a teacher I didn't learn something from.
I often chuckle to myself as I hear the instructor at the front desk before class tell a new student "you're going to feel wonderful...after the class." And that is true, because the class is hard, hot, and at times frustrating as the poses are challenging. But Birkam has a saying: "one percent of the posture and one hundred percent of the benefits" which means that the beginning student gets just as must benefit from correctly starting the pose, as the advanced student bending over from the waist and putting her head on the floor and grabbing her heels - known as "standing separate head stretching pose"( which, since I am blind without my glasses and don't wear them in class, I can only imagine what it looks like.)
But during my day, as I go from court to court, or if I am in trial and something goes wrong, I will often slow myself down and think about the last class I did. How hard was is to get into Spine Twisting Pose- the last of the 26 poses, which was about 85 minutes into the 90 minute class, about which time I am so exhausted, tired, hot, and possibly frustrated, that the desire to quit is almost overwhelming. Yet when I completed both sets of the pose, and then finished class, I will often remind myself that nothing I will do tomorrow will be as hard as this. And then when something goes wrong during the day, I will remember the last pose, remember the feeling of relief of being able to complete the class and the 26 Asanas, and that will give me re-newed confidence to "work the problem" my client and I are facing.
There's nothing mystic about Yoga. No far-out zen experiences, or weird chanting. It is about breathing, remaining calm, and pushing your body into poses that are exceptionally beneficial for your mental and physical health. It's no surprise that you're pushing your body into a place it initially doesn't want to go. But once you get there, there is this unexpected desire to go there again that keeps resurfacing, day after day.
There's no secret to being a great trial lawyer. It takes time, discipline, experience, a willingness to brutally rip apart your performance in every case you lost, and remaining humble and thankful in every case you win. It's knowing, as Vince Lombardi said, that "luck is the residue of design" and being willing to get up earlier than your opponent every day, and work longer and harder in learning the file, knowing the case, and being prepared for every eventuality. To the extent that Yoga helps with the discipline of hard work, and helps me remain calm during stressful events during a trial, Yoga helps me be a better lawyer for my clients.
And those skimpy spandex outfits having nothing to do with it. I promise.
But there are valuable lessons I learn from spending 90 minutes in a 105 degree studio surrounded mostly by women half my age wearing impossibly small pieces of spandex as they maneuver their bodies into seemingly impossible positions.
Breathe. When starting an asana, a beginning yogi will hold their breath trying to put themselves into a difficult pose. Remembering to breathe is important.
During a trial or hearing, I will often will look across the aisle at my counterpart in court when something unexpected occurs during their case- hopefully because of me- and notice that they are holding their breath as the unexpected unfolds. When it happens to me, as it did recently during the early days of a lengthy federal trial in March of this year, the first thing I told myself as the government's witness started talking about the application of an unexpected and seemingly devastating law, was to breathe. "Slow down. Remember to breathe. Remember the yoga...." I said to myself. Then I thought of the motto of Mission Control at NASA during the Moon shots: "Work the problem." I remained calm, opened my laptop, logged on to Westlaw, and saw that the statute the witness was referring to was wholly inapplicable to the charges against my client. While the direct testimony was seemingly very damaging, my cross not only remedied the problem, but seriously damaged the government's case because their expert witness was forced to admit his entire theory of my client's culpability was based on a law wholly inapplicable to the charges in the case.
A Bikram Yoga class is 90 minutes. I describe it as 90 minutes of hell. And before I proceed further, here's a plug for my great Bikram Studio: Bikram Hot Yoga Miami right off of SW 27th Avenue and US 1. Here is their Facebook. They make everyone feel right at home, beginner, or expert, and I've yet to have a teacher I didn't learn something from.
I often chuckle to myself as I hear the instructor at the front desk before class tell a new student "you're going to feel wonderful...after the class." And that is true, because the class is hard, hot, and at times frustrating as the poses are challenging. But Birkam has a saying: "one percent of the posture and one hundred percent of the benefits" which means that the beginning student gets just as must benefit from correctly starting the pose, as the advanced student bending over from the waist and putting her head on the floor and grabbing her heels - known as "standing separate head stretching pose"( which, since I am blind without my glasses and don't wear them in class, I can only imagine what it looks like.)
But during my day, as I go from court to court, or if I am in trial and something goes wrong, I will often slow myself down and think about the last class I did. How hard was is to get into Spine Twisting Pose- the last of the 26 poses, which was about 85 minutes into the 90 minute class, about which time I am so exhausted, tired, hot, and possibly frustrated, that the desire to quit is almost overwhelming. Yet when I completed both sets of the pose, and then finished class, I will often remind myself that nothing I will do tomorrow will be as hard as this. And then when something goes wrong during the day, I will remember the last pose, remember the feeling of relief of being able to complete the class and the 26 Asanas, and that will give me re-newed confidence to "work the problem" my client and I are facing.
There's nothing mystic about Yoga. No far-out zen experiences, or weird chanting. It is about breathing, remaining calm, and pushing your body into poses that are exceptionally beneficial for your mental and physical health. It's no surprise that you're pushing your body into a place it initially doesn't want to go. But once you get there, there is this unexpected desire to go there again that keeps resurfacing, day after day.
There's no secret to being a great trial lawyer. It takes time, discipline, experience, a willingness to brutally rip apart your performance in every case you lost, and remaining humble and thankful in every case you win. It's knowing, as Vince Lombardi said, that "luck is the residue of design" and being willing to get up earlier than your opponent every day, and work longer and harder in learning the file, knowing the case, and being prepared for every eventuality. To the extent that Yoga helps with the discipline of hard work, and helps me remain calm during stressful events during a trial, Yoga helps me be a better lawyer for my clients.
And those skimpy spandex outfits having nothing to do with it. I promise.
Saturday, August 16, 2014
THE WHO AND THE WHY
In his wonderful and sui generis (legalese for unlike anything else) blog Hercules and the Umpire, Judge Richard Kopf, who is a Federal District Judge for the District of Nebraska wrote about an exchange he had with a law student that led to him starting his blog:
"If I were to write my own blog, it would have something to do with what it means to be a federal trial judge on a day to day basis. I am not sure however, that I want to reveal that much about myself."
So, after contemplating writing my own blog on "what it means to be a criminal defense trial lawyer on a day to day basis in South Florida", I had to also decide whether I wanted to reveal that much about myself, my life, and my practice. After a wonderful vacation week in North Carolina, this blog is the answer to that question.
I admit that the social media-SEO experts and the like who have helped us design and implement our law firm's new website: Woodward and Reizenstein PA had some influence about creating this separate blog. Some mumbo-jumbo about Google Web-crawlers and the establishment of an authentic presence on the web. So be it.
But I plan for this blog to be more.
The number one question criminal defense attorneys get at parties, from friends and family members, really anywhere we go is: "How can you represent those people."
One goal of this blog will be, while maintaining strict client confidentiality, to answer that question.
Shameless plug: For now, the tantalizing answer (I hope) to that question can be found in our firm's motto on our website (another plug):
"When Bad Things Happen To Good People....We Can Help."
"If I were to write my own blog, it would have something to do with what it means to be a federal trial judge on a day to day basis. I am not sure however, that I want to reveal that much about myself."
So, after contemplating writing my own blog on "what it means to be a criminal defense trial lawyer on a day to day basis in South Florida", I had to also decide whether I wanted to reveal that much about myself, my life, and my practice. After a wonderful vacation week in North Carolina, this blog is the answer to that question.
I admit that the social media-SEO experts and the like who have helped us design and implement our law firm's new website: Woodward and Reizenstein PA had some influence about creating this separate blog. Some mumbo-jumbo about Google Web-crawlers and the establishment of an authentic presence on the web. So be it.
But I plan for this blog to be more.
The number one question criminal defense attorneys get at parties, from friends and family members, really anywhere we go is: "How can you represent those people."
One goal of this blog will be, while maintaining strict client confidentiality, to answer that question.
Shameless plug: For now, the tantalizing answer (I hope) to that question can be found in our firm's motto on our website (another plug):
"When Bad Things Happen To Good People....We Can Help."
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