Fatherhood

For anyone who tells you sports don't make a difference in a kids life?

Take a look at that picture.

Last fall was Rakes first year playing soccer on the "Big" field and to say it was an adjustment would be an understatement. Much larger field, more defensive players and bigger players all played into a rough year for Rakes. After being one of the better players on the smaller field he spent a lot of games sitting on the bench.

So it made me extremely proud when his coach told me toward the end of this year that he was so glad our team had four legitimate forwards and Rakes was one of them.

This shot was taken right after he scored his first of three goals this season and I'm not sure who was happier, me or him.

But take a look at that kids face and try and tell me games don't matter.

And just to keep him from getting the big head? This was taken a few seconds later.

"This is our *&^%*&^ City"

You're darn skippy it is.

I'm tired of reading about these two jackasses that for whatever twisted reason decided to set off bombs in a crowd of innocent people, trying to kill or maim as many as they could. I'm glad the one is dead and I'm glad the other one is in custody, although it wouldn't bother me if he was dead too. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but I really don't give a rip.

Per Fred Rogers, just about the nicest person this side of Mother Theresa in the 20th Century.

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping."

These are the people I'm trying to find out more about. The ones who saw the smoke and noise and injured and who ran back TOWARD it, not away. I don't want to read about two cowards who killed innocent people and somehow justified their sick deeds. Whether it's in this life or the next, those two will get what they deserve.

For now, I'm gonna say a prayer for the victims, the survivors, and their families and concentrate on the goodness of humanity.

Because no matter how many times it happens and no matter how many bad guys there are, there will always be more good than bad, and while it may win the battle?

Evil will never win the war.

Stay Strong.

If you're gonna go? Go big.

We took the kids to play Putt-Putt on Saturday and after golfing we went into the arcade for some games. Rakes and Ciera played this car game shown in the picture while Trot watched in dead silence.

Finally, after they were done, he turned around and asked me.....

"Dad. Can I have one of those in MY room?"

One day when he's President I'm gonna remind him of stuff like this so he can appoint me the Ambassador of Fenway Park.

You Never Know What You'll See On Opening Day

At some point today during the Red Sox 8-2 Opening Day win over the Yankees (kudos to Lester, Ells, Pedie and the Flyin' Hawaiian) Trot pulled down his shorts, mooned his sister, and uttered.......

"This is for all the LADIES!"

Unless he's somehow seen "Magic Mike" I have no idea where he came up with this but the fact it came during a victory over the MFY?

It's somehow sort of appropriate.

Not appropriate enough that I won't have to have a serious talk with him about dropping trou in front of his sister.

But close enough.

It's Here.

The long winter of my discontent is over.

Or something like that.

Tomorrow, 1 p.m., the Bronx.

Thank God.

The Birthday Dirt Dog

From the age of, well, birth to..... yesterday, this child has been the human equivalent of a barrel full of monkeys. He rolled down our staircase at around 6 months old, taking 5 years off the end of my life and after catching his breath and convincing his Mom and I he wasn't dead took off crawling again.

At 9 months he had tubes put in his ears, got Mersa at the age of 2, and following 3 1/2 years of merrily urinating in every conceivable place he could find? He contracted Alopecia and had all of his hair fall out while battling a speech impediment.

Despite all this he has constantly amazed me by having a perpetual smile on his face all the time, laughing and running and roaring through life like some pint sized version of John Blutarsky, complete with the eyebrow wiggle. He's never met a stranger, the entire world is his friend and even though he doesn't know it he lives his life by the motto "If you're gonna go, go BIG."

Tomorrow he turns 7 and I honestly can't believe it.

Seems like yesterday he was standing in the van peeing on the garage floor.

Happy Birthday Trot.

I never thought I'd make 7 years.

Manny Still Being Manny

After forcing myself to wait until the price came down some I finally bought this book yesterday on my Kindle for $5 and at about a third of the way through so far I'm loving it. The fact it was written by the CHB scared me at first but it feels like Tito wrote it instead. Full of stories and language formed by a lifetime spent in baseball parks across the country you can hear Tito's voice in every sentence.

Best part of the book so far? The back story behind the home plate argument between Manny Ramirez and Yadier Molina in Game 4 of the 2004 World Series. While the two of them screamed profanities in Spanish at each other, Umpire Chuck Meriwether waved Francona out onto the field.

Upon arriving at home plate Meriwether said he couldn't understand Spanish, thus he couldn't understand what in the great wide world of sports was going on.

Francona: "What do you want me to do about it? I don't speak Spanish either." Turning to Manny he asked "What's this about?"

Ramirez: "He thinks I'm stealing their signs."

Francona: (chuckling) "Chuck, Manny doesn't even know OUR signs!"

I miss goofy, pre-steroid knowing about, blissfully unaware Manny.

And while I think John Farrell is going to be a fine manager?

I think I'll always miss Tito.