Comeback column

From my creative limbo: here's your chance to vote on which of my undeveloped ideas should finally take shape.

For every column I write, there are multiple other column ideas that fizzle. A notion that strikes me as promising winds up dying on the vine.

Usually, it’s because upon further inspection or introspection the subject feels too something:

• Too weird (even by my off-beat standards)

• Too personal (although I’ve written plenty of highly intimate pieces)

• Too trivial (although some of the greatest responses I’ve received come from random, trivial essays such as Join the Backing-Into Brigade)

• Too boring

Today, however, comes an experiment. Below are four topics I’ve considered writing about, but which never took flight. After reviewing them, please cast your vote (see poll at the end) for the one you’d be most interested in my developing into a full-fledged column.

Whichever one gets the most votes is the one that I pledge to flesh out sometime.

My New York Post Stakeout

This was Christmas Eve and Christmas Day 2006, a freelance assignment that strove to provide a cheery follow-up to a horrific tragedy that befell a young girl the previous year in New York City.

The Post flew out a photographer who was an old pro at this stakeout business. While I sat behind the wheel of a rented SUV, he huddled out of sight in the back seat. Most of the time, for hours, we parked about five houses down the block from the girl, who was living with relatives.

And the two occasions when we followed a car in which she was an occupant? Now that’s when things got really interesting.

The newspaper was hoping for a feel-good story, how she was having a much brighter Christmas than the year before. We didn’t get the heart-warming photo that was on editors’ wish list (a gleeful child riding a new bicycle); eventually, on Day 3, I knocked on the house’s door to ask for an interview.

Things went haywire not long thereafter, including a call to the police.

Life at 1.2 Speed

When listening to podcasts, I almost always set the speed at 1.2 times the original recording. For every hour I listen, I get a “bonus” 10 minutes. There’s so much that can be done in that span. Like, well, listening to another 12-minute podcast!

But is there a price that comes with this sort of speed listening? What effect might it have on our interactions with others? Have we lost patience for certain in-person interactions that seemingly go at 0.8 speed, or even slower?

This idea was inspired by someone telling my wife, as she was sharing a story: “Come on, 1.5 times it here!” (That person is a 1.5 speed guy.)

Honestly, I don’t know where I’d go with this column. But I suspect it’s relatable and could yield some wide-ranging and intriguing insights from Inside Edge readers.

A Follow-Up to `Probable Bobble’

A few months ago, I explored whether a statistical quirk from LeBron James’ career was really so quirky. At that time, I delved into the career scoring, rebounding and assist averages of four other basketball standouts to see how unusual it was not to ever nail your average in all three categories in a single game.

Since then, I’ve continued my numbers-crunching odyssey by examining the game-by-game data points accumulated by Boston Celtic greats Larry Bird, John Havlicek, Dave Cowens and Bill Russell and Los Angeles Laker superstar Magic Johnson.

The question I sought to answer: which of these players duplicated LeBron’s statistical quirk? But, really, does anyone—even the diehard basketball fans out there—care?

I’ve already begun to get bored with this one. So, yeah, I’m sandbagging here: vote for this only if you want to spite me.

Dad & Child Push-Ups

This topic was kindled several months ago when I saw a moving scene from the television show This Is Us.

From the This Is Us scene. To see it, click on the link in the sentence above the image.

When my son and daughter got old enough to hold onto my back without falling off, I began doing push-ups with them on my back.

It was never an everyday thing, but we continued this tradition for years with some regularity. At some point, it shifted to one at a time and, later, to only my son climbing aboard.

We continued this ritual until Zach was 12 or 13 years old, when I could do one or maybe two push-ups this way. A few weeks ago, I tried it again—and while I could push up from the floor with his 160 pounds atop me, I couldn’t do a full down-and-up sequence.

I just stayed down. Maybe that’s where this idea should remain. Or is it worth further exploration?