Why it's normal to cheat on health tests

It happens every time I go to the doctor. After the interminable wait, they move me to the staging area, then take my blood pressure and measure my pulse. I assume it's a challenge, so I try to reduce my pulse to that of an iguana and make my blood pressure as low as possible.

The goal: A pulse rate of less than 60 beats per minute. A blood pressure below 120 over 80 (a standard which I know only from watching medical shows on TV as a child).

It's a competition.

There is no reason for this competition. I doubt I can affect medical tests. If I could, there's no benefit. Yet I do it every time, because I want to "win" and  avoid the repercussions of a bad health test.

Even if a "bad" test is accurate and helps my doctor treat me.

I will do everything I can to win the test.

Pathetic? It isn't anything new. I also suspect I'm not alone in trying to game the system.

It started in elementary school, when they would bring in the meanest man in the world to conduct hearing tests for us on a special school bus, loaded with equipment.

He would require us to raise our hands when we heard a noise. Right hand when we heard it in our right ear, left hand when we heard it in our left ear.

The meanest man in the world terrified me, but I really, really wanted to do well on the test. It didn't matter if I needed help with my hearing, I wanted to shine on the test . . . so I would watch others to make sure I didn't miss a sound. Occasionally, I raised a hand to silence, because . . . I wanted to do well on the test.

That makes sense, in a way. I was a kid. I didn't want to have one-on-one interaction with the meanest man in the world (which probably wouldn't happen, but I didn't know for sure).

I'm not a kid now. But I still cheat on health tests.

So do many of us, regardless of the illogical nature of it.

Want another example? Watch anyone who goes to the optometrist – or the DMV – for an eye exam. The good doctor will put up that chart of letters and ask us to read it.

"A, X, J, P, T."

"OK, the next line down."

"P, F, T, J . . .  Q?"

"OK, one more down."

"(We can't read it, but we try anyway, hoping to guess right) A . . . J? . . . P? . . . F? . . ."

The test is to see how our vision works. We think that maybe we can guess right and avoid the news that our vision has deteriorated. We want to beat the test.

Frankly, if you told me there was a version of the eye chart on the internet (which may be true), I would consider memorizing it to make my eyesight seem better to my doctor. It's nonsensical, but true.

I guess there's something charming, yet foolish in trying to beat health tests. It's the same thing that makes us floss our teeth ferociously before we visit the dentist.

When someone says they've cheated death, perhaps we all inwardly admire them. Because we spend so much time trying to cheat health tests, which might be connected to cheating death.

Now let me see if I can find an eye chart on the internet. I've got an appointment in a few months . . .

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Advice from a dad on Father's Day

It's Father's Day, the 365th-most-important day of the year (366th most-important day in leap years), which means it's time to bring in a specialist to answer your questions.

Like Annie's Mailbox and Tim Jones' real estate column, this space each year becomes a forum for you, the reader, to have your questions answered. By a dad.

Let's go to the mailbag:

Dear Dad:

I think my 13-year-old son is smoking marijuana, but don't know how to confront him. I remember my parents were so out of touch when I was a teenager and experimented with weed. I don't want to make him feel like he can't trust me, but I can't ignore that he smells like marijuana when he comes home from school. What should I do?

– Worried in Suisun

Dear Worried:

Does anyone call marijuana "grass" anymore? I guess "weed" is a better description, speaking of which, I think it's time for another batch of Weed-N-Feed on the lawn. This happens every year around this time – the lawn needs to be mowed every week. I've found that the best way to apply Weed-N-Feed is to turn on the sprinklers for a few minutes, then turn them off and let the lawn set for a bit before I use the spreader I keep in the shed. The water keeps the grains on the grass and stops the wind from taking it away.

Dear Dad:

My adult daughter has two children, but they have different fathers and one actually lives with her dad. The problem is that when I send the grandkids Christmas gifts, the child who lives with my daughter always sends a thank you card and the other doesn't. I'm not even sure if she gets the gifts, so would I seem ungracious if I called and asked? Her father and I don't get along.

– Fairfield Grandma

Dear Grandma:

You know who else apparently didn't get along? Angel Pagan and his Giants teammates. I read that a few weeks ago and wasn't surprised. Apparently, Pagan's teammates were not overly fond of him, which explains why the Giants didn't make a huge effort to re-sign him as a free agent, despite not having a left fielder. So they played four years with an unpopular outfielder, but no one knew about it. Further evidence that Bruce Bochy is a great manager.

Dear Dad:

My wife and I have a disagreement. Every time someone drives through our neighborhood at a fast rate of speed, she gets irate – and expects me to do the same. As far as I'm concerned, by the time we realize a car was driving fast, it's already gone, but she wants me to call the police. Who's right?

– I Just Want Peace

Dear Peace:

What is it about teenage boys that makes them drive fast? I guess their brains aren't fully functional. I remember my first car: It was a 1976 Volkswagen Rabbit and I drove it faster than I should have. A Volkswagen Rabbit! It seems ridiculous now, but I had some fuzzy dice hanging from the rear-view mirror and consistently drove faster than the speed limit. Another thing: It was a five-speed and I thought nothing of having a stick shift. Too bad kids don't know how to drive a stick now, which seems like we've lost something. I miss that Rabbit.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

'Battle of Network Stars' can't top its predecessor

The 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey gold medal victory was the greatest sporting event of my youth. Hank Aaron's 715th homer and Bruce Jenner's win in the 1976 Olympic decathlon rank second and third.

Fourth? Gabe Kaplan's win over Robert Conrad in the 110-yard runoff during the 1976 "Battle of the Network Stars" television show.

It. Was. Epic.

For a kid who lived in a town with two TV stations (one shared ABC and NBC programming), any TV sports were important. That the star of my favorite TV show ("Welcome Back, Kotter") outran the cocky star of "Baa Baa Black Sheep" (and former star of "Wild, Wild West") to give ABC a much-deserved win in the relay race was high drama.

Seriously. It was huge. Gabe Kaplan's win was the talk of the school the next day.

This subject is pertinent because "Battle of the Network Stars" returns to TV June 29, airing on ABC.

It won't be the same because the world changed. To be clear, the previous incarnation of the show (which ran from 1976 to 1985, but had its glory years in the first two or three seasons) was bad. But in a world where we embraced weak programming, it was all we had.

"Battle of the Network Stars" aired in the glory days of trash sports on TV. King of the hill was "The Superstars," on ABC, which pitted the best athletes from professional sports in a series of events outside their area: Bike races, swim races, rowing races and obstacle courses (Lynn Swann could hurdle the high-jump bar!). It was must-see TV.

And so was "Battle of the Network Stars," which was important because actors on network TV really were stars. It meant something to watch Lynda Carter, Adrienne Barbeau, Ed Asner, Billy Crystal, Penny Marshall and Kristy McNichol compete in relay races, a tug-of-war competition and even a dunk tank showdown.

The host? Howard Cosell, who lent gravitas, since he was also ABC's man on the spot for such things as Muhammad Ali championship fights and Monday Night Football.

Of course the Kaplan-Conrad 1976 showdown was the high point of the series' history (and one of the highlights of my young life). It was the "Battle of the Network Stars" version of the Lincoln-Douglas debates, the Ali-Frazier fights or the Coke-Pepsi rivalry.

The runoff came after the event judge ruled that Conrad's NBC team committed a foul during the relay race, which enraged Conrad. It seriously enraged him.

Reviewing a YouTube clip of the event shows that Conrad was as much a jerk as my teenage brain perceived, as he argued, threatened to quit, then agreed to the runoff with Kaplan to settle it. Every sane American, it seemed, was in Kaplan's corner as the actors settled what Cosell called "a big brouhaha."

The race was even through the first half, then Kaplan pulled away, outrunning Conrad into the celebratory arms of Farrah Fawcett Majors, Lynda Carter, Ron Howard and other stars as I danced in my family's living room.

Now the program is back. Producers promise matchups between such groups as "Cops vs. TV sitcoms," "lawyers vs. White House," "TV moms and dads vs. TV kids" and more.

Fine. But here's what the new incarnation of the show can't offer: The drama from a time when there were three TV networks and so little sports on TV that a teenage Brad jumped in the air to celebrate a win by Gabe Kaplan – a victory that his friends the next day treated like the end of World War II.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

My secret graduation address, delivered

The following is a draft of Brad Stanhope's annual graduation address, which will apparently remain under wraps for another year as he (inexplicably) hasn't been asked to speak at a graduation since the infamous incident of 1998. To be fair, he later said that he didn't know the microphone was still on.

Mr. Stanhope carries a copy with him at all times, in case a graduation speaker falls ill and he's called on to be a substitute.

The full text follows:

Graduates of 2017, congratulations on accomplishing one of the biggest achievements of your life.

The class of 2017 is special. You enter a world different from any previous graduating class: You are the first class since 1845 to graduate while a former game show host is president. Of course, 1845 was when our president was James K. Polk, the former host of "You Bet Your Log Cabin."

But I digress. You enter a world where responsible citizens must differentiate between real and fake news, where something called a "unicorn frappucino" makes the news, where driverless cars are a reality and where the phrase "throw shade" means something.

In other words, good luck. You'll need it.

Before you enter the world, allow me to share a few bits wisdom I gathered through the years, things I wish I knew when I was your age. Of course, you need to learn your own lessons, but let me give you some tips.

• For starters, remember three things about following rules: No. 1, they exist for the good of the group. And No. 2, sometimes the people who make rules are wrong.
• The secret to wealth has never changed. Simply spend less than you make over a long period of time. Anything else is a shortcut.
• Shortcuts work for some people, but not most of us.
• Enjoy being able to eat how you do now. Junk food is tasty and fun, but 10 years from now, you'll realize that it makes you unhealthy. In 20 years, you'll have to cut back. In 30 years, you'll wish you'd listened to your doctor a decade earlier. Enjoy it now.
• One of life's easiest things is to be appreciative. If you say "thank you" to people and otherwise appreciate them, you will end up ahead.
• You're welcome.
• Keep learning. What seems new and cutting-edge now will seem ancient in the future. And by "future," I mean a year or two from now. Don't be your generation's equivalent of people who never learned how to work with computers or use smartphones.
• Conversely, remember that having the latest knowledge doesn't make you wise. Repeatedly making good choices makes you wise.
• Read that again: Wisdom is the process of repeatedly making wise choices. One way to do that is to ask yourself what the future version of you (maybe 10 years from now) would advise you to do in a given situation. Had I done that, I would have never been involved in the 1998 open-microphone incident. I really did think it was off.
• People who say "the only regrets I have are things I didn't do" are either shameless or were unconscious most of their lives. We sometimes regret both what we did and what we didn't do.
• Don't let regret paralyze you.

Now it's time to go into the world and make a difference by being the best version of you. And it's time for me to make sure the microphone is off before I say anything else.

I just hope I didn't throw shade.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.