Tag: best dad moments

No Father’s Day

Gratuitous picture of the kids. Getting them to smile is hard!

 

It’s Father’s Day season! So, in honour of the day where we show the father figures in our lives some love, lemme tell you about that time when myself and some other dads got no love.

I’ll error on the side of vagueness, to protect the innocent.

J is in a club with some other little girls, which gets together weekly, to hang out. Because of my work schedule, K almost always take her to their get togethers. The few times that I’ve picked up J or dropped her off, I’ve noticed the occasional dad, but it’s almost always mothers.

A couple of months ago, a message was sent out to the parents, about an event. Basically, the group was going to have a big sleepover at a local tourist attraction, for the girls and one parent. They would stay up late, do a bunch of fun activities, and sleep on the floor in the main area, in sleeping bags. Some other groups would also be there.  It was definitely going to be a unique, memorable outing.

Because K was more involved with the club, she was the one who was going to go to the sleepover. However, a few weeks before the big night, something came up, and K wasn’t able to take J any more. No problem, though. I’d go instead.

And then the message about the details pertaining to the event came out.

In it, it specifically said that it was for the girls and their female parent or guardian only. 

 

Now, in my mind, that was pretty discriminatory. Not every child has a female in their life who could participate in an event like this. Why should they be punished? What difference did it make, too, whether a dad or male guardian came?

Suppose that you had an opportunity to do something really cool with your kids. Not just cool, but something that was an unforgettable experience, the likes of which would create memories which would last forever.

Now suppose that you weren’t allowed to partake in this opportunity because of your gender. This seemed like a backwards-thinking, judgemental, sexist wrong.  Was the club really some bizarro version of Al Bundy’s “NO MA’AM” organization?  I was pretty upset, people.

I went on the attraction’s website, to see if maybe there was a gender policy of some sort, for the sleepovers they hosted. No dice.  In fact, pictures of previous sleepovers on the site clearly showed men in them, alongside women. Making it a man-free zone must have came straight from J’s club.

On the Facebook group for the club, I politely posed the question, to clarify that dads weren’t allowed.  Someone posted that it was true.

The weird thing, though, was what occurred next. Do you know what happened?

 

Nothing

No one replied, no one commented. Again, my interaction with the club was limited, so not wanting to rock the boat and ostracize J, I dropped the issue. And that was that.

In the days following, I can’t say that I was angry. Sure, I was disappointed for J, since she would miss out on the fun night with her friends. And yeah, it was a bit outrageous, that in an era where it’s easy to outrage us, this little moment was met with a giant shrug of indifference.

However, I accepted the fact that the club probably, in their mind, had a valid reason for excluding dudes.  Maybe there was a bad incident of some sort, in the past. Maybe they took a poll of the fathers of the girls, and the majority of them voted that they weren’t interested in going. Maybe it just came down to a comfort level thing, for the club. Who knows.

I guess all that I’m trying to say here is, sometimes dads…… just want to be dads. Nothing more, nothing less.  Point blank and the period. Just being there for their kids and bonding with them, creating memorable experiences. Really, is that so wrong?

Anyway, Happy Father’s Day, peeps. Here’s to creating some long-lasting memories!

 

One more gratuitous picture. At least they are all smiling. See? There’s always a bright side!

 

 

 

The Shot

I’m a real sucker for “dad” moments in sports.

You know, those heartwarming incidents that happen during a game or event, which really highlight the love between a father and their children.

From Jeff Hornacek wiping his face during free throw attempts as a way to secretly say hi to his kids, to the dude who saved his son’s head from a flying bat, to Derek Redmond’s pops jumping out of the stands to help him finish an Olympic race,  to (my personal fav) John McDonald fulfilling a promise he made to his dying dad by hitting a home run on Father’s Day, stuff like this really gets to me.

And to these iconic moments, I’ll add one of my own, one which will forever be known (in our house anyway) as The Shot.

It occurred during  three-pitch softball recently, where B had come with me to my game. Despite it being a fun, recreational co-ed league, there are a ton of people in it who can flat out crush the ball. Yours truly, however, is not one of them. Possessing shallow outfield pop-fly power, I am the most slap-single happy guy in the whole league.

While effective, this isn’t exactly sexy.  Other kids at games cheer their dads on to “hit a homer!” Meanwhile, B gets to watch his old man leg out infield grounders. As a result, B’s taken to the sluggers on our team, and roots for them more than me, because, well, dingers!

Glad you find that funny, Bryce Harper

Glad you find that funny, Bryce Harper.

Which brings me to The Shot.

 

B had been having a blast playing ball boy that day. When a foul ball was hit, he would run to retrieve it, and throw it back on the field.

As I was waiting on deck, for my turn to bat, B came over to me and said “Daddy? I’m going to go over there (he pointed to the backstop, behind home plate). Can you hit a foul ball to me?”

Now, besides having no power, I should mention that I also have no aim. I’ve never picked a spot and hit a ball to it. I’d have just as little a chance of perfectly fouling off a pitch as I would of hitting a home run.

So of course I told B that I would hit a ball to him!

As he excitedly ran off to the backstop, it dawned on me what a bad idea this potentially was. I would only have two chances to perfectly foul off a pitch (I couldn’t get out by wasting the third pitch). On top of that, there was a decent crowd of people.  I would have to hit it in the area that B was, so he alone could retrieve the ball. I also had to hope that the ball wouldn’t injure someone, too.

Negative thoughts filled my head when I stood at the plate. I pictured me swinging, and having the ball bounce off my face, shattering my nose. As I bled profusely, B would laugh and call me a failure, and immediately seek emancipation from his loser dad. Maybe Kelly Clarkson would write a song about it.

428px-Kelly_Clarkson_Blue_Angels

Glad you find that funny, Kelly Clarkson.

Anyway, with all that on my mind, the pitcher threw the ball.

As it neared, I took an uppercut swing.

CRACK!

The ball floated up. It sailed back. Back over the backstop…..back over B……and landed and rolled safely, a good 20 feet behind him.

B happily sprinted off, scooped it and proudly threw it back onto the field.  After the game, he was more turnt up about that play, than any other hit or home run. #winning

Against all reasonable explanation, I said that I would hit a foul ball to my son, and I did it. I called my shot, forever to be known as The Shot.

Babe Ruth would be proud. Or  indifferent. Definitely indifferent.

Babe Ruth would be envious. Or  indifferent. Definitely indifferent.

 

Now truth be told, B’s probably forgotten about this little play, and I’m the only one who still thinks it was awesome .

That’s cool, though.

You see, in baseball and in parenting, we can’t all be home run hitters.  All we can do is try our best. Sometimes we’ll strike out. Sometimes we’ll hit a single. Sometimes, we’ll knock one out of the park.

And sometimes, on that rare occasion, a foul ball will be just as good as a homer.

SAYNG

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