FAN: Like Father, Like Son

Did you ever do something and as you're doing it, a memory from your past leaps into your skull? I had an experience like that last night. Weird feeling. I share a lot of similarities with Still A Dad. We both salt and peppered way too early in life. We both hate debt and avoid it at all costs. We have similar builds. We both torture pets. I'm not talking Michael Vick here so relax. If only every pet could be tortured as we define "torture". Growing up, our beloved mutt Muffins couldn't relax for a second because the minute she stretched out on the floor, Still A Dad would bang his foot down on the floor shaking the room and startling the dog so badly it seemed like she jumped halfway to the ceiling. He'd then laugh at her and scratch her and tell her it was OK....until he did it again 3 minutes later. Pavlov would have loved that she learned to sleep with one eye open. He was also famous for making a circle with his fingers and thumb and commanding her to "put your nose in there" so he could give it a squeeze and she did it because she loved it. He would also point to a spot on
the floor and tell her to "put your nose right there". She would act like she wasn't going to do it but then get down and literally crawl to the spot. It was hilarious.

I now find myself amusing my daughter by picking up Hershey and just holding him on my lap on his back looking back at me with my thumbs under his armpits. He is fine for 2 minutes. Sometime between 2 and 3 minutes, his tiny walnut sized brain tells him to start biting me but he can't reach anything. We continue to talk to him like a baby, but I refuse to let go until his annoyance builds to a sudden burst escape maneuver. Anyway, that's not what I'm talking about here, but you get the idea. I also treat kids the same way....asking them stupid questions and telling them things that aren't true. It's a finely honed skill and funny to watch when kids don't know that it's your MO.

If I failed to mention it here, I am now the Head Coach of Still A Stroke's JV Volleyball team for 5th and 6th graders. Last night we were sharing the gym with another team practicing right beside us. I could sense that our practice was running more smoothly and more fun than our neighbor's was. I told the girls we could end practice with a game of Nukem to sharpen their "move to the ball" skills as soon as they could successfully return one of my serves with a three-hit bump, set and hit.

They had a few two-hit returns which is great for this age but I wanted to end practice on a high note and time was running out. I called for a huddle. I told the girls to look at the other team not having as much fun. I told them we were capable of making them wonder what the heck was going on and why our practice was so much fun. I definitely had their attention. I told them to try really hard and concentrate to get a three-hit return and when we do.....flip out and celebrate like we just won the Super Bowl. It only took three tries after the speech. Deep serve to Still A Stroke, perfect bump to setter, setter sets hitter, hitter clears the net. My girls threw their arms up and screamed and we all clapped for a few seconds. The other team, their coaches and parents all turned to look - no balls were heard bouncing and their wasn't a sound coming from the other half of the gym as they all watched us celebrate. I blew my whistle and called them in and said "So do you guys want to play Nukem, or do you want to try that again?" Not a single vote for Nukem. My team was jazzed. I went back to the service line and again on the third try, we went bump, set, hit and erupted again. Did the girls on Court 2 wish they were on Court 1? Yes. As we both closed up practice, their girls flocked to ours to see what was going on and someone from the other team asked Stroke today at camp what happened. Perception becomes a fact. There will not be a more relaxed girls JV team in our league. Bank on it.

So what reminded me of Still A Dad as the words were leaving my mouth to celebrate? I was either 9 or 10 and I know that because I didn't play in the majors until I was 12 and the story involves someone who went to the majors a full year before me and this occurred while we were on the same team, Luigi's Restaurant. A kid's dad up the street was our head coach. Still A Dad was assistant coach. The head coach always had something going on and I swear I'm not making this up but one night his Doberman bit his little girl who was trying to feed him something and he chased the dog down the street with a pistol and shot at it several times. Still A Dad will comment here (without mentioning any names) as I can't remember if he hit the dog or not with the shots. I think that may have lead to the Police at his house which lead to him quitting the head coach position mid season which lead to Still A Dad taking over. Luigi's was good that year as we had several players who ended up playing for an All-Star team a few years later that went deep into states. One of them was actually in Sports Illustrated as one of the top 50 freshman football players who weren't allowed to play as a freshman due to grades as a result of Prop 48. He would have graduated in 1986 so I'm guessing that's the year Prop 48 was introduced. The story isn't about him either. It's about another kid who was from a neighborhood one over from mine. He was bigger than most kids our age and always looked a little sloppy but in a good way....think Arte Lang. He could throw fastballs right past 90% of the kids in the minors. Still A Dad noticed the looks on the opposing player's faces I guess as they watched our guy warm up down in the bullpen. He was throwing missiles. When Dad gave us a final talk in the dugout before taking the field, he told the big fella to throw wild in warm ups. "Huh?" was the reply. "Throw them wild. Over the catcher. Hit the backstop. Throw inside so you miss the catcher. If you throw 8 pitches, the catcher better only catch 2 or 3." Now that's not verbatim, but it's pretty close as he got the hint and everyone was like "oooooooooh" while nodding their heads. Boys that age do not like missiles being thrown at them. I can't remember exactly what happened, but I remember the eyes of the kid in the on-deck circle watching this transpire. He was stepping out of the batter's box almost before the ball left the pitcher's hand. I think he struck out the first two batters. Before taking the field for inning two, same instructions. I don't remember how long it went on, but it was clear we gained a psychological advantage that day. I even remember who we were playing, The SC Firemen.

Isn't it funny what you remember 30 years later? I most likely found it so cool that everyone was so downright giddy over my Dad's idea that I put that memory on external drive backup storage. I'm not sure what I ate for lunch yesterday, but I know that day 30 years ago, that poor son of a bitch who had to bat first was psychologically terrorized by my Dad........and I liked it. Wheeeeeeeee!!!