Put Me In Coach 2012

Long before I was bullied into starting a blog, I used to write notes on Facebook. This is the one I wrote last year around this time. Since the message is still the same, as are my thoughts and feelings on the subject, I want to give it the full blog treatment. I could probably start a whole new piece about how as a kid, I used to be bored to tears when Dad was driving and his music was on the radio. Now, ironically enough if any of his bands (Boston, Journey, REO Speedwagon, Aerosmith) come on the radio, I’m jamming and head bobbing like the Roxbury guys on bath salts. That’s for another time. For now, please enjoy “Put Me In Coach.”

 

Even though I look like an idiot, Dennis looks like the Devil, and my uncle looks like he's about to say something inappropriate, still one of my favorite pictures.

 Happy Father's Day
-Minch 

I have known that this would be the topic of my second entry for a while, but I have spent a great deal of time mulling over how I wanted to approach this. Bringing up my old man is still a sensitive subject for some, and I cannot stress enough that I don’t do so looking to elicit any type of sympathy or to evoke sadness. Rather, I’d like to take a moment, as Father’s Day approaches to introduce many of you, to a man you never had the pleasure of meeting…

My father could care less about movies. He’d wearily dose off while any sitcom was on. He didn’t read books, nor did he smoke or drink (As a man who worked for a liquor distributor, he wasn’t against it, it just wasn’t for him.) My Dad did two things, busted his ass daily at two strenuous jobs, both involving a great deal of heavy lifting and late nights, and enjoyed every aspect and element of sports.

Baseball, Hockey, Football, you name it! Every passing season had some sport attached to it. For baseball, my father was just a fan of the sport. He liked the Orioles because of their affiliation to the Rochester Red Wings. He liked the Blue Jays because of their proximity to us. My mom recently told me that he never liked the Yankees. No disrespect to my friends who are fans, but I cannot tell you how much this meant to me.  For both hockey and football, obviously, Lets Go Buffalo. I watched my father suffer through the on going tragedy that was 90’s for Buffalo sports.

As a dumb ass little kid, I really wasn’t much for sports. My mom will gleefully tell you about how during my ill fated little league days, I would come off the field between innings ask her to make a pit stop at the 40 and 1 Youth baseball concession stand. I was more interested in movies, TV, and for a thankfully short time Star Trek (I have LONG since washed my hands of that phase, replacing it with alcohol and girls). So in terms of interests, the old man and I didn’t have a ton of things to connect on.

When he passed in late ’99, the sheer reaction by the public helped me understand what he meant to everyone, a pillar of strength, heart, and a beacon of what someone should aspire to be, but even then I was still a teenage dumb ass. I think everyone has a moment in their lives when they finally GET their parents. Where the proverbial light bulb goes off and you realize, “Oh, that’s what you trying to do…thanks” Unfortunately, he wasn’t around when I had that moment…but the story doesn’t end there.

There came a point, seemingly out of nowhere, a long dormant strain in my DNA suddenly activated. I wasn’t just watching Red Sox games because I didn’t want to fight with Dennis over the remote, but because I wanted to. An interest in baseball, hockey, and football emerged from within, as if it had been my destiny all along. Christ, I have a Red Sox tattoo!!! Every once and a while, more often than not I think about him as I’m watching a Reds/Cubs on WGN for the hell of it, knowing that 15 years ago it would have been torture for me. And don’t even get me started on the Sabres, I tie my love of that team directly to him, and I can promise you this, WHEN they win the cup, I will be a mess, and I’ll be thinking of him. There’s no doubt about it, I am my father’s son.

So Happy Father’s Day. I hope for those of you in my age bracket, you’ve already had your, “Oh I Get it.” moment. For you youngsters out there, don’t worry, you will.