Hawk Nasty

Admittedly, I have never been an over the top Seahawks fan. To me, they have always come a distant like....fifth...behind the Dawgs (both football and basketball), Mariners and Sonics. Even in 2005 when they went to the Super Bowl, as exciting as it was, I wasn't living and dying with every single play like I did during the 2000 UW Rose Bowl season or 2001 M's 116 win season.

Even during their finest year, the Seahawks didn't seem like a team that I could buy in to 100%. They had nice pieces, no doubt. Shaun Alexander had a record breaking season, Matt Hasselbeck was incredibly smooth and efficient in running the offense, and they had one of the best Offensive Line's in recent history.

 

That 2005 team went 13-3. But I didn't love them. Their offense was pure finesse, even with Big Walt and Hutch on the O Line. Shaun Alexander wasn't running anybody over for extra yards. Who was our deep threat? D Jack? Maybe. Joe Jurevicius? Probably not. Bobby Engram was as sure handed as they come, but he wasn't putting the fear of God into any secondary. He could move the chains for sure, but that was it.   The Defense was built with a "bend but don't break" mentality. They actually gave up more passing yards than they threw for. Bryce Fisher led the team with nine sacks. Lock down corners? Nope. Sorry Tru....Hard hitting safety? Yes, Ken Hamlin could lay the wood - but he only played in six games that year because of the Stop Sign Incident.

Look - that season was phenomenal - we played in a Super Bowl! But...I didn't love that team. 

For the first time, I am obsessed with a Seahawks team. The 2012 Pete Carroll edition has everything you could possibly want from an NFL team. Let's go down the list.

1. Clear cut leader. Is there any question?

So much has already been written about RWIII, so I don't need to dive too deeply here, but I will say this - The guy oozes moneyness (quote attributed to Kevin Hinton who was, at the time, referring to our friend Travis Duty). He exudes confidence, and when he has the ball in his hands, I just expect good things to happen. Case in point - yesterday against the Niners...tied at 13 with 5:11 left and starting the drive on their own 10 yard line, I had no doubt that we were going to score. With RWIII at the controls, I no longer have to hope something good will happen, I expect it to. If it doesn't, then I'm surprised. 

2. Smash mouth football AKA Beast Mode. People can talk all they want about how it's a passing league. Being able to run the ball and control the clock wins in the post season. It also helps if you can do this.

3. Punch you in the mouth take no prisoners NASTY defense. Yeah. 

Want to throw to that side? Go for it.

No wait...throw to the other side! Oh yeah, that guy....

Fine - we'll go over the top!

Wait....shit....ok, how about underneath? Oh....damnit. 

Ok...ok. Let's just run the football. Simple enough...

Even with all of those hurdles, I at least will have some time to throw the ball, right? Not like they have a borderline psychopath freak of nature athlete who is going to come at me....

Sonofabitch.....

4. They play with a chip on their shoulder. All. The. Time.

RWIII? Too short to play QB in the NFL. Richard Sherman? Fifth Round pick. Marshawn Lynch? Jettisoned from Buffalo after multiple issues. Brandon Browner? Undrafted, played in the CFL. Golden Tate? Broke in to Top Pot. 

Bruce Irvin? Massive reach at #15 overall, and huge character issues. Robert Turbin? Wait, who is he? Bobby Wagner? Another guy from Utah State? Even Pete Carroll - fizzled in two previous NFL Head Coaching tries and had stumbled to two consecutive 7-9 seasons in Seattle. 

Doesn't matter. Every single player, coach and member of the front office believes in what they are doing. The hell with the draft experts who universally panned the Wilson and Irvin selections in April - Pete and John Schneider knew exactly what they were doing, and weren't going to let talking heads and their "expert analysis" get in their way. 

So, here we go. An 11-5 regular season is in the books, and as we turn the page to 2013, we face the excitement and uncertainty of the NFL Playoffs. The Hawks are a #5 seed and if they are going to get to the Super Bowl, they'll have to do it the hard way, playing at least two games on the road (most likely three)...but you know what? That doesn't scare me, for two reasons. First - the last two Super Bowl Champs ( Green Bay and New York Football Giants) both were wild card teams who went on the road and ran the table. Second - after what we've seen the last six weeks, is there anybody who really wants to bet against this team? 

Strap it up and enjoy the ride. I will. 

Here you go, Coug fans...

This may be the only time that a die hard Husky shows you empathy, and wishes you weren't going through what you're going through.

In 2008, as all Coug's will happily point out, the Washington Huskies went 0-12.

It was, without a doubt, the worst possible sporting experience that I have ever gone through. Ronnie Fouch? Willie Griffin? It was like the scene in Major League where the Executives are looking through the roster that Rachel Phelps has put together, and they have this exchange:

Executive 1: I never heard of half these guys, and the ones I have heard of are way past their prime

Executive 2: Most of these guys never had a prime.

Executive 3: This guy here is DEAD!

Rachel Phelps/Tyrone Willingham: Cross him off, then. 

Yeah, it was that bad. So, Paint Dry Ty got canned after eight games, but then for some inexplicable reason was allowed to coach the rest of the year as a lame duck Head Coach. Then, in January of 2009, UW hired Steve Sarkisian to be the next coach of the Dawgs. There was excitement. There was passion. There was hope. 

In Coach Sark's first year, we went from zero wins to five wins, including one of the most memorable games I've ever seen live.

Despite some inconsistencies, UW has steadily improved. Five wins in 2009, seven in 2010 including a Holiday Bowl victory over Nebraska, seven in 2011 including a memorable Alamo Bowl shootout with RG III, and already up to six wins in 2012 with two games remaining. 

Now we journey to the other side of the state - to Pullman. In 2008, it was arguable that the Cougs were actually a worse team talent wise than UW. Of course, in the worst Apple Cup of all time, my old friend Tripper Johnson got beat deep to set up the game tying field goal that lead to WSU's overtime victory. 

2008 was the first year of the Paul Wulff experience, and in all honesty, that Apple Cup win was probably the highlight of his tenure. 

They guy couldn't recruit D-I talent to Pullman, and couldn't coach the talent he had to be competitive. His overall record at WSU was 9-40, and his conference record was 4-32. Dude made Ty Willingham look like a Boss. Which he most certainly was not. 

So, after the 2012 season, and another Apple Cup loss, Wulff's firing was just a formality. Now, the Coug's were fired up. They had an Athletic Director in Bill Moos who wasn't afraid to take a gamble. They had more financial resources thanks to the Pac 12's new TV contract (Larry Scott actually IS a Boss). It was time to return WSU Football not only to relevance, but to prominence. People forget, as recently as 2003 this team was a Top 10 team nationally! 

Bill Moos wasted no time making his splash. 

Almost immediately I started getting texts, IM's, and Facebook Messages. 

Cougs are back. 

We're winning seven games this year. 

Bowl game. 

We have more talent than UW already.

You guys should be terrified.

And on it went - and I was scared. I just watched the worst Husky D of all time give up 240 points to Baylor in the Alamo Bowl, and now all of the sudden Mike Leach and his Air Raid Offense were coming to the Pac-12? Nervous indeed. But as they say...THAT'S why they play the games...

On National TV, the first game in College Football all year - WSU gets to go to BYU and show off their new look. Anywhere you went, the Coug passion and energy was palpable. They took the day off of work. They were sauced by noon for a 5 pm kick off. On a Thursday. 

And what happened? 30-6, BYU. -5 rushing yards. Ouch. 

It's only gotten worse as the year has gone on. Bad losses (again), blowouts and close games. But what's even worse is what's come to light in the past two weeks. Marquess Wilson's suspension, quitting the team, and allegations of abuse against Leach are a new low for the Cougs. I really doubt that it's true - I doubt that Leach and his staff abuse players. I think Marquess Wilson is a puss. An absurdly talented puss who could have been the best player in WSU history if he had the work ethic and drive to make it so. Mike Leach is notorious for being demanding of his players, and Marquess Wilson is notorious for skating by on sheer ability, so you could almost see this coming. The irresistible force meets the immovable object. 

Here we are, 11 weeks into the Leach Regime, and we have a 2-8 WSU team with only one win against a D-I program (and they barely squeaked by Eastern Washington), and now we have pending University and Conference investigations into allegations of abuse. 

I swear, I am not piling on. I feel for you, WSU. I honestly thought that Leach would turn things around very quickly this year, similar to the turnaround Washington had in 2009. I know how beaten down I was at the end of the Willingham Era. I didn't even watch the second half of the 2008 Apple Cup. I had spent so much time and money investing in the Huskies, and they were a joke. I wasn't even mad, I was completely numb as a fan, which is worse than anger (ask the Mariners) 

Instead of a turnaround, instead of a breakthrough, it's been a breakdown for WSU. The most diehard Coug  that I know, Mr. Anthony Ward, is over it. This guy loves his team just like I love my Huskies. It's bad, bad news when a fan like that just doesn't care because he's been smacked in the mouth so many times. 

So, here you go Coug fans. I hope, for your sake, that Mike Leach gets it together. I hope that he rights the ship (yes, pun intended) and starts to get the results that he had at Texas Tech. No fans deserve to go through what you have for the past six seasons. 

Except Oregon. 

I'm a realist, not a pessimist

Tonight, I experienced real loss for the first time. My grandmother, my Nonnie died at the age of 83. In 1980, she was diagnosed with cancer and given six months to live. She looked at the doctor and told them to fuck off.

She beat cancer. She crushed it. She lived for 32 years after breast cancer tried to take her. She met her first grandson (me). She met the next four of her grandchildren. Then, she met her great grandson...my son Adam

I realize that this has very, very little to do with sports. But at this point, I really don't care. My Nonnie was a second Mother to me. If you know me, or even if you don't, you probably realize that I had an absentee Father and a mother that had to bust her ass to make ends meet. That meant that my Nonnie took us to school, took us to after school sports, and had us sleep over at her house.

I was her first grandchild. Her and I shared a special bond. Granted, she had a special bond with all of her Grandchildren, but with her and I, it was different (yes, I realize this is selfish to say). I was the first one to sleep over at her house. I was the first one to go to Mariner's Opening Day games with her in the 80's...before the game we would go to the Metropolitan Grill and have hamburgers.

How many people can say that their Grandmother never EVER missed their Little League games? How many people can say that their Grandmother showed them their first ever R rated movie? To quote my Nonnie, "It was Major League! They only said Fuck a lot! It wasn't that bad!"

When I was 13 years old, my Nonnie and Boppa took me to London and Paris as a gift to celebrate my Bar Mitzvah. I spent two weeks with them -just the three of us travelling around Europe. How many 13 year olds, let alone ANYBODY get to do that? I did - because that's how remarkable my Nonnie is and was.

The older I got - the more real she got with me. There was no bullshit. If she didn't like something, she told me. Sometimes it was mortifying. Other times, it was brilliant. But always, it was out of love. All she ever wanted was for me to be happy.

In the last six months, she simply got tired of fighting. She fought for 32 fucking years. She beat cancer, she beat radiation, she beat chemo, she beat open heart surgery, she beat countless infections, viruses and influenzas. She crushed them all. She is and was the strongest woman you would ever want to know.

Two stories about my Nonnie.

1. We were in Seaside, Oregon in November of 2005. She had stopped driving at night because her eye sight was going bad. However, because we were in Seaside, a place she had been coming to since she was a child, she decided that she wanted to drive to the movie theater.

As we were about to make the turn from Highway 101 into the Seaside theater, the light turned yellow. In most people's mind, that means "hurry up and get through the light." For Nonnie, it meant, "stop in the middle of the intersection and waver her arms and say how sorry she was for stopping in the middle of an intersection on a major highway."

2. In 2006, my wonderful cousins Ryan Sutherland and Jen (Hanan) Sutherland got married. At their wedding, the power actually went out at the venue. As our entire family sat in the darkness (eventually alleviated because somebody went and got a generator), I continued to drink beers with my cousins. Eventually, I noticed a very stern look coming from my Nonnie. I got up and walked over to her and said, "Nonnie, what's the matter?"

She tightened her lips and said, " Don't you know that your father is an alcoholic?"

"Yes," I said, "I do know that....so?

Her face contorted, "So????? You've had THREE BEERS IN THE LAST HOUR!!!!"

I was stunned....I didn't know how to reply. "Um, yes I have. But there's no need to be so negative about it," I said. "I know my Dad was an alcoholic....I'm not. I am just having beers with my cousins to celebrate Ryan and Jen. No need to be a pessimist."

She then uttered a phrase that I will never forget.

"I'm not a pessimist. I'm a realist. I just want you to be healthy and happy because I love you."

My Nonnie....I could not have been luckier to have you in my life for 30 years. You taught me so much, made me laugh, and helped make me the man I am today. You no longer have to fight and struggle...you can lay your head down and rest easy. You raised three amazing children, who in turn raised five amazing children of their own. The Hanan/Kraft legacy will live on because of you and your husband, my Boppa.

It's time for you to lay down your worries - rest in peace my Nonnie, I will love you and will think of you always.

Wait, what?

Remember these guys? Yeah, I do too. Remember how unassumingly it started? A few wins in early August?

Well guess what; this incarnation of the Mariners - beleaguered and scrutinized for their lack of offense, lack of superstars and shoddy front office work - just won their 7th consecutive game, swept their second consecutive series, have won eight of their last nine and are 14-6 since the All Star break. Oh by the way, they are 8-2 since a certain moody and socially awkward right fielder asked to be traded....

What's the most amazing thing about this? Because of the 2nd Wild Card team introduced over the off season, the Mariners, yes THESE Mariners...are only 7.5 game out of a playoff spot.

I realize this is some serious optimism.  I realize that just about every single team in the American League with the exception of the Twins and Royals is mathematically still alive for the playoffs - but because this is a franchise that has given us so little over the past decade, I'm willing to get excited.

I have been extremely critical of this team and organization for several years. Even during the 2009 season when they won 88 games with smoke and mirrors, or last year when they somehow played .500 baseball for the first half of the year, it was clear that they weren't actually getting better. This stretch of baseball has involved precisely no overpaid, over the hill veterans (Miguel Olivo has not contributed, obviously....). It has been on the shoulders of young pitchers, young position players who finally FINALLY seem to be showing signs of maturity. Dustin Ackely is starting to hit out of the leadoff spot. Jesus Montero, back from a concussion, has started to look much more comfortable at the plate. Blake Beaven has come back from AAA and gone 4-0 while averaging 7+ inning pitched per start. Jason Vargas just had one of the best month's of baseball in franchise history, going 5-0 and giving up 8 runs in 36 innings. My dear lord, Hisashi Iwakuma struck out 13 Blue Jays in his last start!!!!

I'm not even going to mention Felix, because he has done what he's always done - get stronger as the season goes on.

Again - this is still a team that runs out a shortstop that just got a beer shower because he broke the mendoza line (although, he's the best fielding and facial haired SS in baseball), and the cornerstone of the Cliff Lee trade is in Tacoma trying to find his swing. There's a long, loooooong way to go. But finally, it seems, there's some hope on the horizon.

And hey, I'm not the only one who is shocked about the recent success....Adam is pretty stunned as well.

Death is too good for them

Thank you, NCAA. While the argument rages on whether or not it was right involving yourself in the Penn State/Jerry Sandusky scandal, I applaud you.

For anybody who argues that this was not an issue for the NCAA, I put this question to you. What department was Jerry Sandusky associated with? Physics? No...Medicine? Wrong....Oh, that's right. The Football Program - which means, this was an NCAA issue as well as a legal, moral and ethical issue. 

About two hours ago, the NCAA handed down a punishment to Penn State that makes the Death Penalty to SMU in 1987 look like nothing more than a finger wagging. In detail:

• Vacating all wins between 1998 and 2011, therefore making Joe Paterno's career win total 298, not 409, ranking him 12th all time instead of first. 
• $60 million fine - average annual revenue the Penn State Football Team generated during the time period
• Initial reduction of 10 scholarships, and then reduction of 20 scholarships for four years
• A four year (FOUR YEARS!) post season ban
• Five year probation
• Players are free to transfer to any Division 1 program and do not have to sit out a year

This is going to set Penn State back to the stone age. If they had received the Death Penalty, they would have resumed play in two years to a sold out Beaver Stadium and been haled as martyrs by Penn State fans and made darlings by the local and national media. With the punishment that NCAA President Mark Emmert  handed down today, Penn State will essentially be forced to play the next four years of football with a Scarlet Letter on their jersey's. 

This team will not be able to recruit enough top tier talent to remain even a footnote in the Big 10, let alone to  remain competitive. No Blue Chipper is going to come to Penn State in the next four years because they will have no chance to play in a Bowl Game. The Nittany Lions will have a roster of 85 players, and approximately 20 each year will be walk on's. They will become a glorified high school football team playing against nationally ranked college teams. It is going to take Penn State more than a decade to recover. They made a movie about something like this 20 years ago that never really got its proper respect:

Just like the movie, and its faded star Sinbad, this is not funny. 

And you know what, I'm so glad this happened. To all the Joe Paterno apologists out there, shut up. Please, just shut up. You know who Joe Paterno was? He was Michael Corleone. He did what he wanted, to whom he wanted, and how he wanted. He was revered, and feared. 

The difference is, when the United States Senate had Michael Corleone dead to rights, they let him slip away. Mike was too smart, too savvy, and too ruthless to go down. He cut the dead weight, he got rid of anybody or anything that would have brought him down. Just when Frank Pentangeli was about to deliver the death blow, Big Mike played his ace. 

Joe Paterno shared all of the narcissistic characteristics that defined The Godfather. He had all the pawns, button men and capo regime's that The Corleone's did. He was that powerful. My God, the man has his "Boss" come into his home in 2004, tell him he had to step down as coach, to which Paternoleone replied "No, I'll retire when I'm ready. But thanks for stopping by. By the way, get the fuck out of my house." That's how powerful he was. He was, without a doubt, the most powerful man in Pennsylvania. And that's what was his downfall. He thought he could make anything bad go away. His actions left a trail of bodies so long that eventually he couldn't hide it any longer. 

1998: "Jerry Sandusky's sexually abusing kids? On campus? In the Football Facilities? Hmmm, let's handle it internally - I don't want the Football Program's (read: FAMILY) good name and reputation to be sullied."

How in the world does a man who is supposedly so honorable, so morally and ethically sound, and who ran a program that was supposedly so squeaky clean cover something like this up? How does he allow such a monster to operate with such impunity, to ruin so many lives, to perform such atrocities on defenseless children? 

Even if none of this was true (which, as has been proven, is not the case. IT IS ALL TRUE. EVERY LAST DISGUSTING DETAIL IS TRUE.), how could Paternoleone even allow the mention of Sandusky's name to be associate with the program? Wouldn't he, as an honorable man running an upstanding program, want even the sheer whisper of a scandal like this as far away from his team as possible? Apparently not. 

It makes me sick to think that Paternoleone knew about this and did nothing. He's an enabler. He's the wife/husband/mother/father of an alcoholic who just continues to make excuses for their sick and desperate husband/wife/son/daughter. Instead of giving them the tough love and support they need, they simply feed their addiction. Joe Paterno literally gave Jerry Sandusky free reign to abuse these children instead of stopping him and getting him the help he so desperately needed. 

So here we are. 14 years after he first found out about the monster in his midst, Joe Paterno is now a disgraced hero. Jerry Sandusky awaits sentencing for acts so heinous I won't get into them here. Frankly, whatever punishment he receives is too good for him. I hope that he accidentally gets "placed" into Gen Pop for about one hour one day and all of those inmates just happen to know he's coming.  

I could go on and on with this, but instead, I'll let Micheal Corleone sum it up perfectly to all of those people who think that Joe Paternoleone and Penn State are getting a raw deal.

Don't tell me your innocent. It insults my intelligence and makes me very angry. 

I Believe

Jason Rubenstein is my friend. We grew up going to summer camp together on the Oregon Coast, then both ended up at the University of Washington (shocker, I know), and now we work together at a small start up company in Seattle's South Lake Union neighborhood.

After college, Jason spent two years working for the Seattle Supersoincs selling season ticket packages.



The man loved his job, and was really passionate about the team and company he worked for. Obviously, in 2008, Jason was out of work after the Sonics were hijacked by several different jabroni's.

Fast forward to 2012, and the ongoing saga that is the once in a lifetime Arena Proposal that Chris Hansen has put in front of our fearless local leaders. While Seattle proves once again to the nation that we are the city that cannot accomplish anything without making it unnecessarily difficult, pro arena groups are doing all that they can to educate and provide information as to why this deal must get done. Groups like Save Our Sonics , Sonicsgate and Sonics Arena are active in the community in voicing their support and encouraging like minded individuals to get behind this as well.

Which leads me back to Tuesday night - two of our esteemed city leaders, King County Council Member Bob Ferguson and Seattle City Council Member Mike O'Brien hosted a Town Hall style meeting at North Seattle Community College to answer questions from the community about the Arena Plan. The general opinion of the meeting was that arena proponents came off very educated and informed while opponents sounded unorganized and misinformed - they kept asking about Key Arena. Get over it. Key Arena is a dump.

Needless to say, Jason was in attendance. He waited his turn to speak, and when he did, this is what he said:

My name is Jason Rubenstein and I was employed by the Seattle Sonics and Storm from 2005-2007. I worked with our ticket sales team to provide a fantastic gameday experience for corporate events, families, and individuals. I saw firsthand, the significant cultural impact of a uniting force such as a multi-purpose facility, on the city.

In 1998 CNN and Sports Illustrated produced a study on Michael Jordan’s effect on the economy of the city of Chicago. It was determined that every time Jordan stepped on the court, between $8 million and $10 million were pumped into the economy of Chicago. That could account for over $600 million over the course of the year. From parking, concessions, souvenirs, restaurants, bars, hotels, and tourism. The results for away games: even higher. Hopefully, we'll have superstars like LeBron James and Kevin Durant coming to Seattle; bringing tourism and tax revenue.

With a new arena proposal that requires no new taxes and has the 3rd-largest private investment for any arena in North America, I am in full support of this proposal. It’s important to the city. It’s important to our local businesses. It’s important to the community.

Short, well researched, impactful. I'm sure that Jason felt pretty good about what he said because it was important to him, and he was able to speak his mind. But then a funny thing happened. Look at the response from social media:

And then this from Andy Boyer - check out #18.

Because of this, because of people like Jason, I am going on record saying that I believe that the arena deal will get done. There is too much passion in this city for not only the Sonics, but for continuing the evolution of Seattle as world class city. One of our own, a local boy who made VERY good, is giving us a tremendous opportunity and despite the best efforts of the curmudgeons who are trying so hard to derail this project (including the Seattle Times, which apparently is has forgotten what objective journalism is), I have faith that in the end, the Sonics will return with a glistening new home.

It's going to a difficult process, with many speed bumps, because stubborn people who have nothing better to do  will fight this to the death, even when it becomes clear it's a losing battle. But thanks to Jason Rubenstein and all of the people in Seattle that think and believe like him, I have faith.

We will build it, and they will come (back).

Baseball is a Metaphor for Life - I have proof

I mentioned a few posts ago that my son was born in April - and of course, life has been inside out, the world is upside down (if anybody can name the reference there, I'll buy you a Coke.)

This past weekend was one of the most trying in my life - Adam was fed, changed and slept plenty - but he was still pissed. Here my wife and I are, both educated adults with impressive career credentials, at the mercy of a 10 week old who can barely hold his head up.

It occurred to me at about 3:30 on Friday night/Saturday morning that there is only one other thing that has ever made me feel this inadequate, and surprisingly it's not something to do with girls. Even when I went through my fat phase in middle school, I still was able to talk to girls - they didn't intimidate me to the point where I wanted to curl up in a ball and hide. Only one thing ever did - Mike Stewart, Gio Pupo and the 1993 Thunderbird Little League Blue Jays.

For those of you who don't remember the structure of Little League, it goes as follows:

3rd Grade - First year of player pitch, all kids the same age
4th Grade - Second year of player pitch, all kids the same age
5th Grade - Tryouts, 5th Graders can play in a league with 6th Graders. Uh oh.

4th Grade was a glorious season. Led by led by yours truly,  the lights out pitching and slick fielding of Panch Romero and sweet lefty swing of Lee Mezistrano, the 1992 Thunderbird Little League "Ted's" Expos went 13-3, won a league and city championship, and were invited to play in several summer tournaments typically reserved for all star teams. Naturally, when tryouts for Major's came around in the following spring, I was feeling pretty good.

That March, I received the call that every 11 year old dreams of. "Paul? This is Steve Condiotti. I'm going to be your coach for this season on the Marlins. See you at practice."

I had done it - but I knew I would. My god, I hit like .600 the year before, hit three home runs and we won multiple titles. The best part? They kept the core of that Expos team together - Panch and I were going to run this league!


Practices did nothing to dissuade that thought process - I was hitting, I got to pitch, I was playing 2nd base and Short. The schedule came out, and  our first game was approaching. I could not wait. 


I'll never forget getting to the Major's Field at Newport High School on the day of our first game. We showed up at 8:15 for 9:00 am game. We were serious. We were ready. But one problem - the other team wasn't there. 8:30, no team. 8:45, no team. We were really, really confused. Then it happened. at 8:55, a bunch of grown men emerged from the HIGH SCHOOL batting cage area. They had been taking BP in the cages. THE CAGES! ONE DUDE HAD A MUSTACHE. 


Coach Steve gave a great pregame speech. "I feel good guys. You should too. We got a good pitcher starting for us. We got a good pitcher ready to close for us. Our offense looks good. Let's go get 'em!"


Nerves were normal. We were ready. Panch was on the hill to start. He gave up two hits, but managed to wiggle out of trouble with no damage. We're up! I'm hitting second. Let's get it. 


Then Gio Pupo walked out to the mound. A tall, lanky lefty. Didn't look like he was throwing that hard. First pitch to the first batter - line drive to left field, base hit. Pfff, this guy isn't too good. Then something happened that is burned in my memory forever. As the leadoff hitter jogs to first base after a sure base hit, the left field, the kid with mustache, fields the ball and fires to first base. On the fly. Beats the runner by two steps. What. The. Hell. 


I'm up. First pitch fastball, strike one. Second pitch fastball, ball one. Third pitch fastball fouled off, strike two. I had him timed. Next pitch he threw in the zone was getting hit. Gio kicked and delivered....but the ball was so far outside, I didn't even have to think twice. Ball two, live to fight another day, right? Wrong. About halfway to home, the ball broke down like nothing I'd ever seen before - strike three called, thanks for playing. A curve ball. A CURVE BALL????? What planet am I on? 


I walked away shaking my head. Nothing I could do, great pitch. I'd be ready next time. But there wasn't a next time. Gio literally was perfect. And in Little League, three innings is the limit. So nine up, nine down, and Gio heads over to 1st base. THANK GOD. A new pitcher. Wait...it's the kid with the mustache. The guy who threw out a base runner at first base from LEFT FIELD!!!! Mike Stewart. This isn't good. 


So here we go again. I'm up second, which means I get to watch. And by watch, this is what I mean...

Mike wasn't throwing curve balls. He was throwing straight Jet Fuel. GAS. Three straight heaters that I couldn't even see from the on deck circle, and I'm up. I'm terrified. 

I stepped into the batter's box and dug in, but I might as well have been up there with a yellow whiffle ball bat. The second I looked out at Mike Stewart, the big lefty with the strangely handsome mustache, I knew I was beat. Worse, he knew I was beat. So what does he do? Toys with me. First pitch is inside. I was on the deck in an instant. 

The rest of the at bat went something like this. 

I slunk back to the dugout hoping nobody would say anything to me. They didn't, because they all knew they had to face Mike as well. 

My day was done. I spent the next three innings on the bench, exactly where I wanted to be. The only constructive thing that happened while I sat on the bench was I came up with a plan for the next time I faced Mike. I was bunting. 

So there it is - the only thing to make me feel more inept than a 12 year old throwing 120 mph from 46 feet away is my infant son. The good news is this - my season as an 11 year old gave way to my season as a 12 year old, and soon it was my turn to mess with the little 5th graders. So it passes. But the memory never fades, the feeling of utter failure remains forever ingrained. 

I have no doubt that in the next few weeks, maybe even days, Adam will go through a rapid transformation and the memory of being rendered helpless by a 10 week old infant will become something we look back at and laugh, just as the memory of Mike Stewart throwing 184 MPH whit his eyes closed is now nothing more than a funny story. 

Until then, I will do what I did as a terrified 11 year old. Bunt. Do whatever I can to survive. Besides, it's not like I can stay mad at this face for very long.