Look on the bright side: Be positive you're not negative

When my brother and I were discussing the lineup of college football games coming up one weekend, I suddenly realized that I was rooting against more teams than I was cheering for.

As a matter of fact, there were quite a few games where I was put in the position of rooting against both of the teams. The only way I could be satisfied in those cases would be if the buses carrying the teams to the stadium were hijacked and both schools had to forfeit.

Once I realized the scope of my negativity, I was left to ponder where I had veered off the road of optimism, winding up in a ditch of pessimism.

There's the old cliché of the person who sees a glass half full is an optimist, and someone who sees the same glass thinks it is half empty is a pessimist.

I'm the kind of guy who picks up the glass to take a closer look and winds up dropping it so that the former glass is now completely empty.

I'll admit that I spent most of my formative years expecting the worst, and often getting what I expected.

My philosophy was that if you expect the worst you won't be shocked to get what you expected. However, if the situation ended well you would be pleasantly surprised.

I spent my college years and initial time in the work force with my very own dark cloud hovering above my head. I was so downbeat and cynical that I could have gotten a job on talk radio with my show, "Walt Finds Fault."

However, that all changed when I read Dr. Norman Vincent Peale's wildly popular book "The Power of Positive Thinking." It didn't take me long to begin walking on the sunny side of the street, looking for the silver lining in each dark cloud and doing similar activities based on old songs.

As with most converts, I was as enthusiastic as I could get about my optimistic attitude on life in general.

The dark cloud of negativism above my head parted as a result of my new perspective - and the fact that I gave up two-pack-a-day cigarette habit.

My old belief of expecting the worst and being pleasantly surprised when it didn't happen was replaced. I now anticipated the best and was ready to accept "the better" when I couldn't get the best.

Don't get me wrong, though. I wasn't so optimistic that I bought a lottery ticket at lunch, and purchased a new car and house later that afternoon.

Even if I had held the winning ticket, it probably would have flown out the open window of my new car, which I had accidentally backed into my new house when I tried to race to redeem the winning ducat.

After all, I was still a realist, even if I was an optimist. Still, it didn't hurt to at least consider the possibility that opportunities might open and obstacles might be overcome.

Somebody had to get the last parking space in a crowded lot at a baseball game or catch a foul ball in the stands.

I didn't abandon my new life philosophy even when what actually happened was that the ball was hit out of the stadium and smashed the windshield of my car. I remained hopeful even when the situation appeared hopeless. This was particularly true when it came to sports.

While I always rooted for my favorite scholastic, collegiate and professional sports to win, I always had the expectation that, more likely than not, my favorites were not going to emerge victorious.

Optimism helped, but it did not erase the feeling that something was going to go wrong; a sentiment I acquired by being a lifelong Philadelphia Phillies fan and enduring the pain that this involves.

For example, say one of my favorite teams, the Fighting Artichokes of Scottsdale Community College, is up by 21 points with 30 seconds to play. I'm optimistic that they will hold on but I don't start popping the cork on a bottle of carbonated prune juice until the final gun sounds.

If you have a similar outlook on life, you will be pleased to know that your optimism has been justified because this column will be shorter than it usually is.

If you are not an optimist, I encourage you to cross over to the sunny side of the street. Be sure to look both ways so you don't get hit by a hijacked bus carrying a college football team.

(Kozlowski, a freelance writer from Mount Carmel, composes "Walt's Way" for each Sunday edition.)