My Brett Favre Monday Night game

Dateline Scottsdale Arizona, around midnight on Monday 29 March.

Iím bunking at Scottsdaleís very upscale Phoenician resort, a place I could hardly afford but would love to make a habit of. By local accounts, this hotel was to become Charles Keatingsí pyramid to himselfóuntil the S&L scandal hit. It is a beautiful place, and itís where Lockheed Martin is having its annual senior executive conference.

I head into the conference to hear the Chairmanís opening pitch. I know Vance Coffman is stepping down soon, so I had my book sent to both him and his replacement, whoís also here. I wanted to hear Coffmanís take on what LM was looking to get out of the conference so I could do my best to shape my usual brief in such a way as to speak most directly to the future strategic choices LM faces as the Pentagonís largest contractor.

I also scope the room: itís a double-wide ballroom with a very wide stage full of the requisite plants. There are two large screens on either side embedded in a ìwallî made up of flowing curtains. These are for the PowerPoint presentations. Above the stage is another big screen upon which the speakerís image is displayed. There are several hundred execs in the room, all arrayed behind long tables facing the stage.

Having scoped out the room and set-up, I retreat to the speakersí room to put the brief together, selecting the slides I want to use from my array of about 100 in all. Once thatís set I generate a copy and give it to the techies running the show behind the stage as a backup. This takes a while because Iím using floppies (my Sony stick just died), and so I listen to Charles Krauthammer, Gary Hart, and Brent Scowcroft perform on their all-star panel. Meanwhile Secret Service are scoping out the backstage area because the Deputy Secretary of Homeland Defense is speaking right before me following lunch.

I spend lunch setting up my laptop at the podium and testing the sound and picture. Then I do the hob-nob with my immediate host, the head of strategic planning for LM, who introduces me to Coffman and others. While Deputy Secretary Loy gives his speech, I coffee up and locate some Perrier to take with me on stage.

Then the moment comes: Coffman gives his intro and Iím on. Still suffering the vertigo somewhat, Iím likewise feeling a bit blitzed and not just a little bit nervous, which always happens when I havenít given the brief in a while. Itís been several weeks and my pitch is memorized, so either the RAM is working or itís not.

I think of Brett Farveís masterful dismantling of the Oakland Raidersí defense on Monday Night Football the day after his dad died, and immediately realize why his concentration could be so strong at that moment: itís simply what he does best. When you hit such profoundly depressing moments as losing a parent, everything gets stripped away except for that which remains. Brettís core skill set is dismantling defenses, and mine is giving captivating presentations to large audiences.

Once inside the moment (I always start somewhat slow), I enter the usual zone. Sixty minutes later Iím taking questions following a strong round of applause, and two hours later Iím hearing from my hosts that my presentation made the day. ìYou pushed a lot of minds in new directions,î I was told, ìand that is exactly what we brought you here to do.î

As I walk back to my hotel room to change for dinner, I realize my vertigo is gone. Iíve remembered who I am: husband to wife, father to children, provider to family. I donít need any reminders about my Dad. I became him years ago.