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A brilliant idea is helping anti-Trump Patriots fans feel good supporting their team.

Trump's favorite team is headed back to the Super Bowl. Let's hope for #AGoodGame.

A brilliant idea is helping anti-Trump Patriots fans feel good supporting their team.

Donald Trump loves the New England Patriots, and the Patriots (or at least their owners, head coach, and star quarterback) love him back.

Quarterback Tom Brady infamously kept a "Make America Great Again" hat in his locker during the 2015 season. The following year, head coach Bill Belichick wrote a letter Trump read on-stage during a rally, gushing about how great the future president was. Owner Robert Kraft even gave the commander-in-chief a Super Bowl ring after the team won in 2017.

While most of the team's fans probably don't care too much about the political leanings of their favorite athletes — at least enough to affect how they feel about the game — some, very reasonably, do feel a bit conflicted.


Trump poses with Patriots coach Bill Belichick during a ceremony honoring the team for winning the 2017 Super Bowl. Photo by Saul Loeb/AFP/Getty Images.

So last year, two Patriots fans decided to put their own feelings of conflict to good use before the Super Bowl, raising $100,000 in the process.

Pats fans Josh Gondelman and Emma Sandoe came up with a brilliant idea in their quest to root for their problematic football fave: They'd donate money to a good cause every time the Patriots score.

Gondelman pledged $100 for every Patriots touchdown and $50 for every Patriots field goal to the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, sending the group a total of $500. Sandoe pledged $5 to Planned Parenthood for every Patriots point, bringing her total to $170. Others jumped in on the action as well, making pledges in various amounts to various charities. By night's end, according to Sandoe, people on the #AGoodGame hashtag had committed more than $100,000 to charity.

Socially-conscious sports fans Sandoe and Gondelman.

With the Patriots back in the Super Bowl, I caught up with Sandoe and Gondelman (full disclosure, I know Josh from Twitter — you should follow him) to see what they had in store for #AGoodGame, part two. They didn't disappoint.

Asked why she thinks last year's campaign took off the way it did, Sandoe says she believes "deep down people want an opportunity to turn negative feelings into something positive and constructive."

"Certainly, being on Twitter, being politically active, or just being alive in 2018 can often feel like a negative experience,  and this gave people that avenue to turn it into something positive, even without the football aspects," she adds.

For this year's iteration, the duo launched the A Good Game website, where people can log their own pledges for this year's Super Bowl. The simple site, put together by Ronik Design, also offers a bit of background on the project as well as a list of some of Sandoe and Gondelman's suggested charities.

This time around, Gondelman's donations will be going to the Loyola Immigrant Justice Clinic, and Sandoe's will support the Southern Poverty Law Center.

Tom Brady lifts the Super Bowl trophy after the Patriots 34-28 win over the Falcons in the 2017 Super Bowl. Photo by Timothy A. Clary/AFP/Getty Images.

Being a sports fan in a politically heated year like 2018 can be tough, but we all have our ways of working through it.

The #AGoodGame campaign is just one of several examples of people dealing with some of the unease that happens when someone or something we love does something that makes us feel uncomfortable.

Take the 2016 World Series, for example. With the baseball season winding to a close, the Chicago Cubs looked like they had a legitimate shot at winning their first World Series championship since 1908. As they got ready to head into the playoffs, the team traded for Aroldis Chapman, one of the league's best relief pitchers. Many fans cheered, convinced that Chapman would lead the team to victory; others were a bit more conflicted, though it had nothing to do with baseball.

At the tail-end of the 2015 season, Chapman allegedly fired a handgun eight times, once into the open window of a car, and choked his girlfriend. While he was eventually suspended for 30 games, he never quite owned up to his actions. The Cubs' decision to acquire someone facing credible domestic violence allegations left some fans wondering whether it was worth winning a World Series if that was the cost.

Cubs fan Caitlin Swieca reconciled her love for the team with her disdain for domestic violence by launching #pitchin4DV, pledging $10 to domestic violence organizations every time Chapman recorded a save (one of the key stats for relief pitchers). Others joined in the movement, and helped raise $38,670. The Cubs did win the World Series that season, and Chapman did play a key role for the team down the stretch — and some really great charities made a bit of money along the way.

Chapman celebrates the Cubs 8-7 win over the Cleveland Indians in Game Seven of the 2016 World Series. Photo by Jason Miller/Getty Images.

There's an important lesson in all of this: If you look for it, there's usually something positive that can come out of negative situations if you're willing to act.

As the Chapman example showed, this isn't just about Donald Trump. In fact, maybe you love Donald Trump. Either way, you can still get in on these #AGoodGame-type campaigns as well. Gamification can be a lot of fun, as anyone who's ever owned a FitBit can confirm, and it's part of why people love to play Fantasy Football so much. That's the driving concept behind these campaigns: combining charity with sports for a better world. Give it a try!

Everyone can all use a little lift at the end of the week, and we've collected some of this week's best stories to provide just such a pick-me-up. Here are 10 things we want to share, just because they made us so darn happy.

1. Introducing Lila, the U.S. Capitol Police's first emotional support dog.

After the traumatic experiences of January 6th, Capitol Police officers could definitely use some extra support. Lila, a two-year-old black lab, will now serve as the department's first full-time emotional support dog. Look at that sweet face!

2. Speaking of the Capitol, take a look at this week's gorgeous solar eclipse behind the dome.

NASA Administrator Bill Nelson shared the stunning "ring of fire" image on Twitter. Always a treat when nature gives us a great show.


3. Colorado sees its first wild wolf pups in six decades.

In the 1940s, the gray wolf was eradicated in Colorado by trappers and hunters, with the support of the federal government. Whoops. This week, Colorado Parks and Wildlife has announced the first evidence of wild wolf breeding in the state, a sign of hope for the endangered species. Read more about the discovery here.

Photo by M L on Unsplash


4. 30-year-old singer with terminal cancer amazed and inspired with her performance on America's Got Talent.

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Everyone can all use a little lift at the end of the week, and we've collected some of this week's best stories to provide just such a pick-me-up. Here are 10 things we want to share, just because they made us so darn happy.

1. Introducing Lila, the U.S. Capitol Police's first emotional support dog.

After the traumatic experiences of January 6th, Capitol Police officers could definitely use some extra support. Lila, a two-year-old black lab, will now serve as the department's first full-time emotional support dog. Look at that sweet face!

2. Speaking of the Capitol, take a look at this week's gorgeous solar eclipse behind the dome.

NASA Administrator Bill Nelson shared the stunning "ring of fire" image on Twitter. Always a treat when nature gives us a great show.


3. Colorado sees its first wild wolf pups in six decades.

In the 1940s, the gray wolf was eradicated in Colorado by trappers and hunters, with the support of the federal government. Whoops. This week, Colorado Parks and Wildlife has announced the first evidence of wild wolf breeding in the state, a sign of hope for the endangered species. Read more about the discovery here.

Photo by M L on Unsplash


4. 30-year-old singer with terminal cancer amazed and inspired with her performance on America's Got Talent.

Keep Reading Show less
True

Each year, an estimated 1.8 million people in the United States are affected by cancer — most commonly cancers of the breast, lung, prostate, and blood cancers such as leukemia. While not everyone overcomes the disease, thanks to science, more people are surviving — and for longer — than ever before in history.

We asked three people whose lives have been impacted by cancer to share their stories – how their lives were changed by the disease, and how they're using that experience to change the future of cancer treatments with the hope that ultimately, in the fight against cancer, science will win. Here's what they had to say.

Celine Ryan, 55, engineer database programmer and mother of five from Detroit, MI

Photo courtesy of Celine Ryan

In September 2013, Celine Ryan woke up from a colonoscopy to some traumatic news. Her gastroenterologist showed her a picture of the cancerous mass they found during the procedure.

Ryan and her husband, Patrick, had scheduled a colonoscopy after discovering some unusual bleeding, so the suspicion she could have cancer was already there. Neither of them, however, were quite prepared for the results to be positive -- or for the treatment to begin so soon. Just two days after learning the news, Ryan had surgery to remove the tumor, part of her bladder, and 17 cancerous lymph nodes. Chemotherapy and radiation soon followed.

Ryan's treatment was rigorous – but in December 2014, she got the devastating news that the cancer, once confined to her colon, had spread to her lungs. Her prognosis, they said, was likely terminal.

But rather than give up hope, Ryan sought support from online research, fellow cancer patients and survivors, and her medical team. When she brought up immunotherapy to her oncologist, he quickly agreed it was the best course of action. Ryan's cancer, like a majority of colon and pancreatic cancers, had been caused by a defect on the gene KRAS, which can result in a very aggressive cancer that is virtually "undruggable." According to the medical literature, the relatively smooth protein structure of the KRAS gene meant that designing inhibitors to bind to surface grooves and treat the cancer has been historically difficult. Through her support systems, Ryan discovered an experimental immunotherapy trial at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in Bethesda, MD., and called them immediately to see if she was eligible. After months of trying to determine whether she was a suitable candidate for the experimental treatment, Ryan was finally accepted.

The treatment, known as tumor-infiltrating lymphocyte therapy, or TIL, is a testament to how far modern science has evolved. With this therapy, doctors remove a tumor and harvest special immune cells that are found naturally in the tumor. Doctors then grow the cells in a lab over the next several weeks with a protein that promotes rapid TIL growth – and once the cells number into the billions, they are infused back into the patient's body to fight the cancer. On April 1, 2015, Ryan had her tumor removed at the NIH. Two months later, she went inpatient for four weeks to have the team "wash out" her immune system with chemotherapy and infuse the cells – all 148 billion of them – back into her body.

Six weeks after the infusion, Ryan and Patrick went back for a follow-up appointment – and the news they got was stunning: Not only had no new tumors developed, but the six existing tumors in her lungs had shrunk significantly. Less than a year after her cell infusion, in April 2016, the doctors told Ryan news that would have been impossible just a decade earlier: Thanks to the cell infusion, Ryan was now considered NED – no evaluable disease. Her body was cancer-free.

Ryan is still NED today and continuing annual follow-up appointments at the NIH, experiencing things she never dreamed she'd be able to live to see, such as her children's high school and college graduations. She's also donating her blood and cells to the NIH to help them research other potential cancer treatments. "It was an honor to do so," Ryan said of her experience. "I'm just thrilled, and I hope my experience can help a lot more people."

Patrice Lee, PhD, VP of Pharmacology, Toxicology and Exploratory Development at Pfizer

Photo courtesy of Patrice Lee

Patrice Lee got into scientific research in an unconventional way – through the late ocean explorer Jacques Cousteau.

Lee never met Cousteau but her dreams of working with him one day led her to pursue a career in science. Initially, Lee completed an undergraduate degree in marine biology; eventually, her interests changed and she decided to get a dual doctoral degree in physiology and toxicology at Duke University. She now works at Pfizer's R&D site in Boulder, CO (formerly Array BioPharma), leading a group of scientists who determine the safety and efficacy of new oncology drugs.

"Scientists focused on drug discovery and development in the pharmaceutical industry are deeply committed to inventing new therapies to meet unmet needs," Lee says, describing her field of work. "We're driven to achieve new medicines and vaccines as quickly as possible without sacrificing safety."

Among the drugs Lee has helped develop during her career, including cancer therapies, she says around a dozen are currently in development, while nine have received FDA approval — an incredible accomplishment as many scientists spend their careers without seeing their drug make it to market. Lee's team is particularly interested in therapies for brain metastases — something that Lee says is a largely unmet need in cancer research, and something her team is working on from a variety of angles. "Now that we've had rapid success with mRNA vaccine technology, we hope to explore what the future holds when applying this technology to cancers," Lee says.

But while evaluating potential cancer therapies is a professional passion of Lee's, it's also a mission that's deeply personal. "I'm also a breast cancer survivor," she says. "So I've been on the other side of things and have participated in a clinical trial."

However, seeing how melanoma therapies that she helped develop have affected other real-life cancer patients, she says, has been a highlight of her career. "We had one therapy that was approved for patients with BRAF-mutant metastatic melanoma," Lee recalls. "Our team in Boulder was graced by a visit from a patient that had benefited from these drugs that we developed. It was a very special moment for the entire team."

None of these therapies would be available, Lee says without rigorous science behind it: "Facts come from good science. Facts will drive the development of new drugs, and that's what will help patients."

Chiuying "Cynthia" Kuk (they/them) MS, 34, third-year medical student at Michigan State University College of Human Medicine

Photo courtesy of Cynthia Kuk

Cynthia Kuk was just 10 years old when they had a conversation that would change their life forever.

"My mother, who worked as a translator for the government at the time, had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and after her chemotherapy treatments she would get really sick," Kuk, who uses they/them pronouns, recalls. "When I asked my dad why mom was puking so much, he said it was because of the medicine she was taking that would help her get better."

Kuk's response was immediate: "That's so stupid! Why would a medicine make you feel worse instead of better? When I'm older, I want to create medicine that won't make people sick like that."

Nine years later, Kuk traveled from their native Hong Kong to the United States to do exactly that. Kuk enrolled in a small, liberal arts college for their Bachelor's degree, and then four years later started a PhD program in cancer research. Although Kuk's mother was in remission from her cancer at the time, Kuk's goal was the same as it had been as a 10-year-old watching her suffer through chemotherapy: to design a better cancer treatment, and change the landscape of cancer research forever.

Since then, Kuk's mission has changed slightly.

"My mom's cancer relapsed in 2008, and she ended up passing away about five years after that," Kuk says. "After my mom died, I started having this sense of urgency. Cancer research is such that you work for twenty years, and at the end of it you might have a fancy medication that could help people, but I wanted to help people now." With their mother still at the forefront of their mind, Kuk decided to quit their PhD program and enter medical school.

Now, Kuk plans to pursue a career in emergency medicine – not only because they are drawn to the excitement of the emergency room, but because the ER is a place where the most marginalized people tend to seek care.

"I have a special interest in the LGBTQ+ population, as I identify as queer and nonbinary," says Kuk. "A lot of people in this community and other marginalized communities access care through the ER and also tend to avoid medical care since there is a history of mistreatment and judgement from healthcare workers. How you carry yourself as a doctor, your compassion, that can make a huge difference in someone's care."

In addition to making a difference in the lives of LGBTQ+ patients, Kuk wants to make a difference in the lives of patients with cancer as well, like their mother had.

"We've diagnosed patients in the Emergency Department with cancer before," Kuk says. "I can't make cancer good news but how you deliver bad news and the compassion you show could make a world of difference to that patient and their family."

During their training, Kuk advocates for patients by delivering compassionate and inclusive care, whether they happen to have cancer or not. In addition to emphasizing their patient's pronouns and chosen names, they ask for inclusive social and sexual histories as well as using gender neutral language. In doing this, they hope to make medicine as a whole more accessible for people who have been historically pushed aside.

"I'm just one person, and I can't force everyone to respect you, if you're marginalized," Kuk says. "But I do want to push for a culture where people appreciate others who are different from them."