& a lesson in manhood: redemption road

Lessons in Manhood

Lesson 9: Obligations and Forgiveness

Squatch, you might have noticed that Daddy likes baseball. Just a little. You like it at this point in your life, too, but in reality you crack up at any moving shape. You’re pretty easy to entertain. Don’t ever change.

We’re Giants fans in this house, and we’re even winning Mommy over, but you knew that. Otherwise that Brian Wilson doll would just be kinda creepy. Last night was Game 1 of the World Series. You’re almost 4 months old, and you already get to experience your first Giants World Series*. Too bad you won’t remember it.

*Don’t get used to this. It doesn’t happen every year. Just every other year, apparently.

Let me tell you about the pitcher who started for the Giants last night. His name is Barry Zito, but I like to call him the Albatross*. This is because he signed the biggest contract in baseball (at the time) before the 2007 season and immediately began to make every Giants fan regret it. It’s not stretching to say he stunk. He’s been the highest paid player on the team every year since, and most of those years, he’s been pretty much the worst player. Last time the Giants were in the Series, they didn’t even put him on the roster.

*This is just Daddy getting all lit nerdy on you.

This year, he’s done better. Not “You Were Worth Every Bit of the $99 Million They Paid You” better, but he provided a solid outing for the Giants whenever he took the ball. They even won 12 straight games when he started heading into the playoffs. He was still Barry Zito, but he was looking a little more like the guy the Giants decided to give that ridiculous payday to.

Still, we Giants fans didn’t really trust him (or like him much) heading into the playoffs. You see, Squatch, when you don’t follow through on your obligations, on what people expect from you, you tend to lose people’s trust. They stop liking you. And in the case of Barry Zito, when the Giants decided to pay him $16 million a year, fans expected him to be worth at least most of that. Only he wasn’t living up to those expectations, and the fans generally wrote him off as a loss.

Till last week. For some reason, in Game 5 of the NLCS, with the Giants down three games to one, they decided to start Barry Zito—he guy who has tortured Giants fans for six long seasons with sub-par performances and general suckiness. They sent him out to take the mound, and Giants fans around the world could be heard muttering, “Well, it was a good season anyway.”

But he came through. Barry. Zito. BARRY ZITO. He shut down one of the best offenses in the National League. He pitched like he was the Giants’ ace, like he’s been doing this all along. He stood on the mound, he threw the ball, and he somehow managed to handle every expectation that Giants fans had when he signed that contract in 2007.

He was a hero.

Now, Squatch, you’re probably wondering about that. Can one game—one good game—cause an entire fan base to suddenly say, “All is forgiven”?

Yep.

You bet your ass. It was a performance that shifted the momentum of the series, ignited one of the greatest comebacks in Giants history, and got them to the first World Series of your (as-of-yet) brief lifetime. He earned that $99 million.

Then he went out last night and did it again in Game 1 of the Series. He again shut down one of the best offenses in all of baseball. He outpitched the reigning (and likely repeating) Cy Young winner. He had fans chanting his name. He got a standing ovation as he exited the game. And the big difference was that people thought he could do it this time. We trusted him. We believed in him.

Forgiveness is a big part of being a Man, Squatch. Forgiving someone for six years of disappointment after he shows up when he’s needed most—that’s expected. That’s earned.

The lesson here is that you need to live up to your obligations. You do what you said you’d do, what others expect you to do. And if you don’t—if the world seems to turn on you when you fail to meet those expectations—you have to earn that trust back. Sometimes that takes time. Sometimes it never happens. And sometimes it just takes one great day.

& making a name

Felix is everywhere these days.

When we first decided on a boy name for Squatch and bestowed it upon him, there really only seemed to be two Felixes:

1. Felix the Cat
2. Felix from The Odd Couple

Of course, there were others, but you never seemed to hear the name very often. It was one of those names that everyone knew to be a name, but you never met anyone named Felix.

Then he was born and everything changed. It started with the Olympics. Allyson Felix became a household name. Everyone was talking about her every time you turned on a station with a peacock. Squatch was only a few weeks old, and it was pretty cool to hear his name attached to someone getting such positive attention for what she was doing. Granted, it was her last name*, but it was still pretty cool. There was another track dude we saw running at the Olympics with the first name of Felix, but he wasn’t ‘Murican, so screw him.

*I kind of wished I could’ve snagged one of those track bibs with “Felix” written on it for him. Oh well.

Then in August, Felix Hernandez went and pitched a perfect game and “Felix” was all over the news again. I don’t know if we noticed it more because of our kid or because it took the attention away from Matt Cain’s perfect game, but once again, it was cool seeing Squatch’s name pop up in the news.* There seemed to be a trend happening, but I wasn’t quite sure.

*In order to cram this in, other recent athletes named Felix: Felix Potvin, Felix Pie, Felix Jones—all of which gathered brief headlines before mostly disappearing from the sports page.

I became sure when I saw the trailer for a movie:

In case you missed it at the beginning there, the game the main character comes from is called Fix-It Felix, Jr., which is also the name of the Jack McBrayer-voiced character. First off, how awesome does this movie look? I’m totally going to see this when it comes out. Second, there’s the name again! And this time it’s not just some athlete. It’s a video game hero. How is Squatch ever going to live up to that? We might as well have just named him Luigi and gotten it over with. Granted it’s not a real video game*, but still—what’s next, some dude soaring through the stratosphere like a superhero?

*Although they did create a version of Fix-It Felix game for iPhone. Karli downloaded it. She’s a nerd like that, too.

FOR THE LOVE—! Everywhere you look these days, there’s someone named Felix doing something awesome. Which on the one hand is very cool. Felixes represent. But on the other hand, did we just inadvertently, through some crappy timing, set the bar too high for Squatch? Or even worse—do we now look like we’re just following some kinda trend? Apparently, Felix was one of the top ten names in Quebec in 2006, which means Squatch shares his name with a bunch of six-year-olds in Montreal. Karli found an article recently that talked about how one trend is a rise in boy names with an X in them—the first one listed being Felix*. Are we just following the crowd?

*Full disclosure: The article was on the Disney baby blog, so this could be a subtle plug for the aforementioned movie.

One way to look at it: I think we’re just noticing it more because now we actually know a Felix, so every time we see one now, it stands out more. It’s like seeing the arrow in the FedEx logo for the first time, and then you can’t unsee it. There’s no trend happening in reality, just in our own minds.

Another way to look at it: We’re not trend followers, were trend setters, baby! He may be one of the youngest, but he’s the original. Ahead of the curve, sucker.

The original. O-effing-G, Baby.

& the freak-down: loyalties

The Freak-Down

48 Days

It’s late here in the middle of the country, and I’m still up because I watched the Giants beat the Brewers. Being a Giants fan in the middle of the country, I’m up late a lot because San Francisco is two hours behind us, so their games start later. That doesn’t explain tonight’s game, though, because they were playing in Milwaukee, in the same time zone. What does explain it is that they went into the 14th inning before the Giants finally won, and I stayed up for every minute of it.

There’s not much for me to pass down to my kids. Our family doesn’t have a ton of heirlooms that we can leave to future generations. What we have is the Giants.

In the Davis family, the San Francisco Giants are the team, from my Grandparents to my aunts and uncles and on down to me and my cousins. And with any luck, onto future generations. Being a Giants fan is practically the closest thing we have to a Davis family legacy. Hell, my cousin threw out the first pitch yesterday for the last Giants game against the A’s*. It’s how we do.

*Meanwhile, I watched the game in a shitty laundromat in a shitty nowhere town on my iPhone. Jealous? Nah, why would I be?

Get ’em young.

I’ve already begun plans for Squatch’s indoctrination. With any luck, that kid’s first words are going to be “Say Hey.” But this doesn’t mean I’m not prepared.

I’m prepared for my kids not to have any interest in baseball. It happens. It’ll be hard if they’re in our house, but it happens. I’m certainly not interested in everything my parents are, so I understand that.

I’m prepared for my kids to start rooting for a different team. If we’re in Kansas City for any length of time, we’ll probably head out to quite a few Royals games. I’m fine with Squatch being a Royals fan—in fact, I’d probably encourage it. I’m a big believer in rooting for your hometown team*. That’s why my family is full of Giants fans in the first place. Karli is (for some reason) a Cubs fan. It’s all right if Squatch sides with Mom . . . I guess. I’m cool with my kid showing some loyalty to its roots or to its mom’s team, so long as it just doesn’t openly root against my team when theirs isn’t involved. That’s when we’ll have words.

*Even when they suck as bad as the Royals. Actually, especially when they suck as bad as the Royals. Real loyalty is a tough character trait to teach.

What I’m not prepared for is the possibility that the kid will be a Dodgers fan. That’s practically cause for disownment. There are two things Squatch will learn before it can walk:

1. What Mom says, goes.
2. The Dodgers suck.

Being a Dodgers fan is a miserable existence, full of mockery, derisive laughter, death stares, and general cold-shouldering. And that’s just what the kid would get from me. Forget about the taunting it’ll get from everyone else around.

My mom will be the first to tell you I had my own little battle with loyalty lines. When I was little, my best friend was an Oakland Raiders fan. And I decided, being the impressionable young person that I was, that I would also be a Raiders fan. My mom, a lifelong Chiefs fan from Kansas, had to put aside her heartbreak and accept her son the traitor. She’ll tell you about the Raiders helmet she forced herself to buy for Christmas one year.

But that’s a little different, I think. Oakland was just across the bay, and I never really stopped liking the 49ers—it was just a misguided dual loyalty. And I eventually wised up and ditched the Raiders. However, we don’t live (and don’t plan to live) anywhere near LA. My kid would have to go out of its way to be a Dodger fan from across the country. That’s malice aforethought right there; just ask a lawyer. Grounds for disownment.

You’ve been warned, Squatch.

& playtime

As you know, I’m not quite a dad yet—more “pre-dad” or “dad-in-waiting” at the moment—but I feel the need to start working toward my Dad Card already. Which means an obligatory blog post about sports. Bear with me, and I’ll try to make it interesting for the non-sports types.

I enjoy sports—not all sports, mind you, but select ones. I’m not a sports nut who arranges entire schedules around my favorite team’s home games or television appearances, but I do follow some teams. Being from the SF Bay Area originally, I’m a pretty solid Giants and Niners fan. And I’ll usually watch a good hockey game with just about any teams. So at some point, it’s probably a given that Squatch will encounter sports in some form or another.

It is my plan that Squatch will, at some point, play sports. Now, Karli and I both have strong feelings against packing a kid’s schedule so full of crap (including sports) that they don’t have time to be a kid. (Probably plan on an entry into the Manifesto of the Uninformed about that.) But I think we both want Squatch to at least attempt something athletic at some point.

Any PE teacher will tell you sports are good for a kid. They’ll say sports keep kids healthy, teach them discipline and teamwork and blah, blah, blah. And they probably do. I’m not doubting it. But there are a couple other things I want my kid to learn from sports (aside from just burning off some energy for the day).

First, that it’s okay to have fun. At the very youngest levels of sports, that’s really all that matters and really all that should be emphasized. Not keeping score or giving trophies to the winners. And I can hear the fogies in the back saying, “Of course you keep score. How else are they going to learn to compete in life and try hard?” That’s where I say, “Screw you, Imaginary Old Man. Nobody’s handing out college scholarships or MVP trophies to six-year-olds. Just let them play.” Because I argue with imaginary fogies a lot. You’ll get used to it.

Second, that there are healthy ways to take out that “I just want to punch some0ne in the gonads” aggression that doesn’t end in injury or lawsuits or terrible looks from other parents. It’s okay to be show aggression in sports—for both boys and girls—in ways that are not encouraged or accepted elsewhere. I’d rather Squatch creams a ball into a double play than headbutts a kid on the playground. But that’s just me.

Boy or girl, we’ll probably get Squatch signed up for both baseball and hockey at some point. Hockey because I can actually get involved and help coach (total dad thing, right?), and baseball because Karli and I both like it, so it’ll be around in our house anyway. If the kid plays a season and hates it, then we won’t push it. If there’s some other sport Squatch would rather do, then that’s fine. If sports just isn’t an interest, then so be it. But whether it’s hockey or brussels sprouts, that kid’s going to have to at least try it first.

But here’s what really prompted this post. There are two sports (one for girls, one for boys) I’d love to be able to sign Squatch up for if it were around here (or we happened to move where it is around).

Roller Derby (for girls)

Some shit's about to go down. You know it.

Don’t even try to pretend roller derby isn’t bad ass. It’s not even up for discussion. Bad. Ass. Would I sign my daughter up for it? If she’s willing, you bet. I dig the punk-inspired DIY aesthetic that defines the roller derby atmosphere, and, having met several roller derby ladies in the past, I think the strong-willed, I-can-take-care-of-my-own-shit, check-out-these-bruises brand of femininity is what I consider (perhaps to my wife’s chagrin) to be a pretty decent role model for young girls.

Yeah, really.

And the best part, as I found out when perusing XYZ Magazine (shameless plug) when we were in Topeka over the holidays, is that they actually DO offer girls’ roller derby classes. At least in Topeka—I’m not sure about elsewhere, but I’m assuming if they have it in Topeka, they have it elsewhere. And Squatch is already a pretty sweet roller derby name. Girl Squatch would be set.

Aussie Rules Football (for boys)

Aussie Rules Football: A game the Terminator would be too much of a pussy to play.

I don’t have any idea if they even offer Aussie Rules leagues at all in the States, let alone kids’ leagues. But seriously, have you ever seen an Aussie football match? It’s the sport cyborgs will play after they’ve succeeded in wiping the puny humans from the planet.

This is a sport from the people who brought you the Crocodile Hunter and Mad Max.

Every time I catch it on TV as I’m flipping through channels, I have to watch. Notice that wording. I have to watch. It’s not a choice. This game demands viewership. And I’d want to sign my kid up just so he could teach me how to play. Because it’s that freaking awesome. Unfortunately, I’m too lazy to use The Google to find out if that’s even possible. I mean, I know it’s not an option here in Deliverance, Oklahoma*, but what areas should I be scouting to make Squatch the first American Aussie Rules superstar?

*Not the actual town’s name. That would be terrifying.

Anyway, the point of this all is that (despite the immediately prior statement) I don’t care if Squatch becomes an athletic phenomenon. In fact, I’d much rather that kid doesn’t have a life that revolves around sports. I’m bound to but a book in its hand before a baseball, but a little activity and sunshine can’t hurt a kid, right? Well, except maybe a broken bone. Ooh, or skin cancer. Damn, I need to rethink that philosophy now.