Marciea Allen, Black Widow

When I pulled up to Black Widow Academy, (now known as Arachnid CrossFit) I had no idea what to expect. When I got out of my car, the first thing I heard was loud music and the sounds of weights clanging. I opened the door to literally a brand new world. A dozen or so people doing an array of exercises. Unfamiliar to me in any kind of gym is people randomly yelling out words of encouragement. Brief celebrations as this person or that person accomplish another goal. Men and women of all ages stepping out of their comfort zone carrying weights over their head from one side of the room to the other. Women and men standing on their heads while their body is up against the wall. From there, they are doing push-ups. From what I can gather, there is no age limit in this gym. The gym is in immaculate condition. . I can promise you one thing for certain, you will not find anything out of its place in this gym. Not a single person is standing around. As the class is winding down, people are putting things away as if its their own, at home gym. While doing so, there are words of positive reinforcement swarming the gym like a pack of angry wolves. In the middle of it all, is the Black Widow herself, Marciea Allen.

So who is Marciea Allen? You may know her as the MMA fighter. But, did you know that she also is a college graduate with a bachelors degree? You may also know her as a Crossfit trainer. Did you know that she worked for a company that traveled her to 49 states and 7 different countries? (Alaska is the only state she hasn’t visited. It’s on her bucket list) You may also know her for her famous boot camps that she organized here in town. You may think you know Marciea but I’m guessing you really don’t. If you did, you would know how amazing she really is. You would know that she is so much more than just a fighter, or a trainer. You would know that the misconceptions that you may or may not have heard about her are most likely false. You would also know that although her profession requires her to be tough, raw, and fierce, it has also taught her patience, compassion, and well, from my perspective, she’s kind of a softy! The traits of patience, compassion, and being soft-hearted have helped escalate her to one of the most sot after trainers in the area.  I recently sat down with her, one on one for an extended period of time. I left that meeting having a better idea who Marciea is as a person as opposed to a fighter or trainer. This woman wears far too many hats to describe her as just a fighter or trainer.

I’ve never written about one specific person before, least not for Sam Says.I’ve spent time with a highschool basketball team that changed my life. I also spent a night with Watertown’s finest which enlighten me on the seedy underbelly that I call home. I’ve rarely spent time in a gym or with a person that has Marciea’s credentials. Why Marciea? Simple; I drive by her gym when I go to work every morning and its packed. When I drive hope at night, it’s packed. When I drive by on Saturdays, there are several cars in the parking lot. Leaving for lunch, I’ve noticed people running down the street away from her gym. I thought “Run like hell people! Get out while you still can!!!” But a few short minutes later, I always saw them running back. Why are they running back? What is it about this person and that gym that drives people to exercise like that over and over? I wanted to know more about the person and her everyday activities. So after months of chasing her down, borderline stalking her, she finally agreed to meet with me.  When I first came up with the idea for working with Marciea, I was a little nervous as I had never met her and I had no idea what, or how this would take place. The only thing I knew about her is that she’s a fighter and a business owner. What am I hoping to accomplish writing this? Well, I hope the one thing that comes out of this is to put to rest the misconceptions about a fellow citizen of our little community. I hope to give you an insight of a person that is well-educated, well-traveled, and one that wears many hats. A person that has lived a remarkable life already and is the ripe old age of 33. I also hope that some of her determination, guts, and will-power will rub off on me. I hope to be able to take all that she’s taught me, in just the few encounters that we’ve had, and be able to use that in my everyday life.

Marciea is a young woman who is in incredible shape. She stands at roughly 5’8” tall and fights at about 135 pounds. For those of you that don’t know me, I’m not even close to the shape that my friend Marciea is. I’m overweight, I don’t exercise, I enjoy a cigarette from time to time, and I certainly wouldn’t last 5 seconds in the cage with her. The point I’m trying to make is that I’m not a part of her gym,  nor do I work for her. The only affiliation I have with her is this “article” that I’m writing. I was gravitated to her for some reason though. Upon meeting her, I would soon understand why. She has a huge personality with an unbelievable character. Her schedule makes me tired just thinking about it, let alone actually doing it. A modern warrior is the best way to describe her. She is more than a warrior however. Maybe a better way to describe her is a modern-day Super-Woman. From 5am classes to 8pm classes, she offers it all. Before we get to know our modern-day Super-Woman, lets take a little closer look to how she got to where she is.

Born and raised in Illinois, on the outskirts of Chicago, Marciea was raised by both her parents and grew up with her 2 younger sisters. Her parents, high school sweethearts, gave her the intelligence and toughness she has today. Marciea didn’t grow up with aspirations to be a business owner or fighter. Rather she grew up wanting to be a professional basketball player. She would wake up, go to school, go to practice, come home and eat, do homework, and practice some more. Upon completion of high school she thought it would be a good idea and venture off into the unknown. She started her post high school education by attending college in South Dakota. Why the Rushmore State? Why not!?!?! So after 2 years at both institutes that our fine city has to offer, she graduated and ended up at a national organization roughly 44 minutes down the road from us. For the next 5 years, she’d travel the country, no the world, for her profession. She has 2 different degrees in IT and is incredibly educated. Put her in front of a computer and she can do far more than get you to some website, which is about the extent of my abilities. So how does a highly successful and educated woman decide it’s a good idea to purposely get punched in the face?

After 5 years of being on the road for roughly 300 days a year, Marciea was laid off due to cutbacks. Taking some time off to figure things out, she was invited to watch a fight in Aberdeen, SD. She was invited by a fighters girlfriend, now wife. As she is sitting in the front row, turns out she is enamored by what she is seeing. An athlete all her life, something drew her to the cage. After her friend fights, she started asking questions. Like everything else she’s done, she would be incredibly successful at fighting. At 28 years old, she stepped into a gym to learn to fight for the 1^st time. Imagine walking into an abandon warehouse. The smell of sweat and nothingness fills the room. To your left, you’ll see two mats. You know the kind, the ones that we all rolled around in elementary school. The not-so-soft blue ones. They are what is considered the “cage”. To the right, a punching bag. From there, with the help of several people, she would eventually be the #5 ranked amateur fighter in the world! She would spend her days fighting against grown men who would help her become the fighter she is today. At roughly 5’8” tall and 135 pounds, she would enter the cage against grown men weighing upwards of 225 pounds. This gives you an idea of the commitment level and fortitude Marciea has. She had put her mind to something and she was going to do everything in her power to make that dream into a reality; even if it meant training and sparring with people almost twice her weight.

For the next 6 months to a year, she would train incredibly hard. Her and a few guys would take to the cage routinely fine tuning their skills. Marciea immersed herself in her training. Like everything before, she strived to be the best. She didn’t find other woman to train with, she found 200+ pound grown men to train with. Not 200+ pound grown men like myself, rather 200+ pound grown men that are in shape and know how to fight. Here’s a petite little thing getting into a cage with huge men and not only knowingly getting punched, thrown, and toughened up, but welcoming it! That may sound completely asinine to you and I, but for her, its Tuesday. It’s a way of life. It’s a portion of her income. Now many people have had aspirations of being a pro fighter. One day lacing up their gloves and shaking hands with Dana White, president of the UFC. How many people get to actually do it? I know of one, Marciea Allen. From an abandoned warehouse in little Watertown, SD to a packed venue in Las Vegas, NV, Marciea Allen would chase her dreams to the height of her profession.

Determination can not be taught. I feel like you have it or you don’t. I’m here to tell you that The Black Widow has it. A TON OF IT!!! Not just happy with winning her fights, she trains to be the best in the country. How does one get noticed in our little Camelot we call Watertown, SD? Simple; fly out to Las Vegas and compete with 150 other woman for a reality TV show with the winner getting a UFC contract!! So imagine standing in a gym with 150 other fighters striving for the same dream you have. UFC president Dana White is well within eyesight and other highly respected members of the UFC community have all eyes on you. Not knowing what is coming next and virtually not knowing a soul there. First thing you do, get in the cage and wrestle or jiu-jitsu an oppent you have no idea who she is. Most fights, Marciea has several weeks or several months to prepare for. Time to study and strategize your opponent. This fight? A few seconds. You have 60 seconds to impress the people who hold your dream in their hands. 60 seconds for the rest of your life if you will. Marciea does enough to impress the powers that be and advances to the next round. Round 2 is stand up techniques or boxing. While others had their own personal trainers with them, Marciea was not privy to this information and does not have her familiar trainer with her. The trainer holding the gloves yells out combinations and she has to hit those combos. While other girls have the familiarity of their trainer and most likely a routine they’ve memorized, Marciea has to rely on her talent and skills. She does enough to make it through that round and now she is in the final phases. She’s outlasted well over 100 woman to get to the final selection of cuts. The interview process is next. After all, this is a realty TV show and personalities bring in high ratings.

Marciea walks into what I can best describe as a board room. A table with 8 people on one side and 8 on the other with Marciea at the head of the table. They start firing off questions to her about everything from her personal life to her fighting. Talk about intimidating! Just imagine that picture. Try putting yourself at that seat and ask yourself how you would react knowing that one wrong answer can make or break your dream. Like most things she does, she exits that room with a smile on her face and has left a great impression. She has now done everything she can do and so it’s time to wait. 6-8 weeks later she gets a phone call from her manager with the news. Imagine waiting 6-8 weeks for the phone to ring with information that can be life changing! When the phone finally rings, the news on the other end is not expected. Due to unforseen circumstances she didn’t make the final cut. Although casting sheets were leaked out with her name on it, she didn’t get a chance to compete. After all that training, all that time, she came up just short. Marciea doesn’t just give up on her dream there though. She does what any good fighter would do, dusts herself off, straps on her gloves, and fights harder! She landed herself in the fight capital of the world, Las Vegas, NV. A nationally televised fight. The first two rounds are dominated by the Black Widow. She’s fighting someone who has 20 pounds on her and wants to take the fight to the ground. Marciea, knowing this, keeps the fight on her feet and absolutely owns the first 2 rounds. Strike after strike, causing damage and things are going masterfully. With just a minute or so left in the 3^rd and final round, our valiant fighter makes a mistake. She gets caught trying to defend herself as her opponent is taking her to the ground. The ref stops the fight (justifiably so in Marciea’s own words) and just like that, the fight is over. That was in June of 2014. Although that was her last fight, it certainly won’t be her last fight. There is no doubt in mind that I’ll be watching her fight in the UFC sometime soon. Afterall, she’s only been fighting for 5 years and she’s only 33 years old. Imagine how good she will be in another year!

For those of us blessed to live in the same community as her, we also know she is a business owner. From her legendary boot camps to her most recent expansion into crossfit. The transition from fighter to trainer seems like a seemless one. Marciea has been in amazing physical shape her entire life. In fact, it was her physique that got her into crossfit to begin with. Out with a few friends at a water park, she’s beckoned over by a few strangers. They compliment her on her amazing shape and ask her what she does for a living. At this time, she was a personal trainer. They invite her over to a gym for a workout. Not knowing what she has gotten herself into, she is staring down roughly 50 people in a 6,000 square foot gym. Quite the change from the 2 blue mats and a punching bag! Of course she’s in her element and it doesn’t take her long to figure out what is going on. Just like that, a business owner and Crossfit trainer are born!! One problem though; she’s got clients in both Sioux Falls and Watertown. The two cities are separated by 100 miles. Knowing that she has commitments to all her clients, she gets up at 4am to be ready for her 5am class. From there, she trains other people or trains herself untill roughly 9:30 pm! That’s a 17.5 hour day. From what I can gather, she is putting other people’s wants, needs, and dreams in front of her own. Although on her resume it reads, fighter, trainer, business owner, it should read selfless, giving, caring, and highly motivated!

Chances are you’ve heard of crossfit. However, if you are like me, you have no idea what crossfit is and how it can help you. I asked several questions of Marciea and below is the best way I can think of to tell you what crossfit is. For starters, it’s a way of life. Its one common goal of a collective group of people wanting to get in better physical shape. Marciea has developed a program based on her many years of being an athlete, and trainer to help exceed any expectations you may have. She offers a program that develops a full body workout that combines everything from cardio, weight lifting, gymnastics, core training, all the way to preparing your body for the unexpected. It’s a high intensity workout that varies from trainer to trainer. The good news is, you will unlikely do the same workout twice in one week so it’s ever changing and evolving. On top of that, most workouts are generally only 45 minutes to an hour-long. A healthier, more fit you can be done before you go to work. You can go during your lunch break. Too busy in the morning with the kids? Not enough time after work? No problem! The Black Widow offers a wide variety of classes to meet any scheduling need. This gets back to her putting everyone else’s wants in needs in front of her own.

So there is a brief background on a very prominent figure in our community. She’s not mean. She’s not intimidating. She’s not going to beat you up in her class. She’s not going to get in your face and scream at you.(Unless your slacking off and you need a good screaming to!) She won’t let you slack off either. That’s whay separates her from other local trainers. She’s not there for just a paycheck! How do I know these things? I have spent time in her gym observing her. I spent plenty of time talking to her clients. Her clients all had the same thing to say about Marciea. She’s a leader and a motivator. 99% of the people I talked to about her all said above everything else, she’s their friend. I guess it’s that old adage that you can’t judge a book by it’s cover or you can’t believe everything you hear. Rumors are rumors and in this small town, they seem to spread like wild-fire. I can’t speak on behalf of everyone, but from my perspective, she’s impressive. In fact, she has about an 85% retention percentage with her clients. Currently she is training roughly 127 people.  That means that after the commitment of their contract is done, 108 will come back. That’s pretty impressive! For those that aren’t returning, she is reaching out asking why. She wants to make time for each individual client and give them the help they need to a happier, healthier life. Who knows; maybe I’ll find my out of shape self in there a few times and see if I can’t be the after picture!

Labled as scary, mean, intimidating, and other not so nice adjectives, Marciea takes to her day flashing that smile. Going about her routine of helping others achieve the personal success they so desperately desire. That doesn’t seem so scary, mean, or intimidating to me. Sure, occasionally she likes to step into an octogon and punch other people in the face, but that doesn’t mean shes’ going to deliver one of those knock out shots to you! For the tens of people who may or may not read this, I’ll let you in on a little secret. The Black Widow isn’t so scary. She’s just an average girl who moved to SD, got 2 college degrees, traveled the country, then the world, saw a fight and liked it, opened her own business, and occasionally likes to punch people in the face. How is that so different from you and I?

The name Black Widow was originally thought up by Marciea and a training partner of hers. Actually, that training partner was the very same fighter she watched fight and gave her the want to fight on her own. The term Black Widow is as follows: “Black widow spiders are arachnids that are known for the females’ unique appearance and tendency to eat their mates. They are considered the most venomous spiders in North America;” I think this is fairly accurate of our friend Marciea. The black widow’s bite also feels like a pinprick according to those that have been bitten. Pain begins within a few minutes and spreads rapidly to other parts of the body. According to Dr.’s, the effects of a bite can include nausea, profuse sweating, severe pain in the abdomen and back, muscle aches, and may cause difficulty in breathing. Furthermore, the pain may last 8 to 12 hours and other symptoms may last for several days after. While you may feel all of the above in a workout with Marciea, the only remedy is to come back for some more. Come back for some more muscle aches and sweating and over time, those muscle aches will turn into a toner, healthier you. You see, Marciea’s bite is not lethal at all. So whether you are training in her gym or fighting in her octagon, you may feel that pain running rapidly throughout your body. The only difference is, one you will not like, and the other? Well, the other will give you the gratification of a healthier, happier you that we all long for. Who better to give you that than the Black Widow herself?!.

By Sam Mooney

I’m Pregnant!!

“I’m pregnant” It’s got to be two of the hardest words for any woman to speak. Honestly, think about it. One second the man is doing his business, going about his day, and then BOOM! your entire life has changed! Now obviously I understand that moms life has changed as well. I can’t speak on behalf of moms beings that I’m not one. I’ve had the pleasure of having 4 beautiful children of my own. Thus, I have 4 pregnancy stories of my own along with 4 birth stories. My experience I’m guessing is much different than yours or what you may see in movies.

My bride and I married young. I was 19 and she was freshly turned 21. A beautiful woman with movie star good looks and the prettiest golden blonde hair you’ve ever seen. She was way out of my league. Needless to say we were kids. 14+ years later we are still together and she’s still as beautiful the day I married her. So while you read these awful things that I’ve done, keep in mind 2 things please. 1- my bride is an angel on earth. 2- I’m a much different person today, than I was then. The date was July 22nd 2000. I just married my best friend. After the wedding dance, we stood on top of the steps and I proclaimed “we are going to go home and practice making babies!!” Of course, I wasn’t sober and although it may seem funny now, it’s definitely something I wouldn’t say today. Little did we know, my bride was already expecting. I can’t remember the exact timeline, but I want to say it was about a month later, I got the news. This is where I’m guessing my story alters from yours a little.

I got home from work on a Friday night. I was getting out of the shower headed to the ball fields for a couple softball games. I had put my beer down as I was stepping out of the shower (yes, at that time I was drinking in the shower) and my bride, I’m sure scared out of her mind, hands me a positive pregnancy test and says those magic words; “I’m pregnant” Now I gotta believe that every little girl grows up and dreams of this moment. Her knight and shining armor lunges into her arms with the hugs of all hugs. Tears of joy are pouring down both their faces as they spend the evening going over names, color schemes, and picking out cribs. Our story? Well, not quite that great. I was a 19, maybe 20 year old alcoholic (at the time I didn’t know it) I took the pregnancy test out of her hands, threw it in the garbage and said “You know what this is? This is garbage and that’s where garbage belongs!” Not quite the moment she dreamt of her entire life. I think there was some sarcastic comment about her buying it at a rummage sale as well. As my new bride is in tears I continued yelling. I even went as far as calling her selfish. I ranted on and on asking her how could she possibly tell me this while I was getting ready for a softball game. It’s hard for me to talk about this, let alone write it. I mean what kind of monster was I? Instead of trying to make an awful situation better, in Sam’s true fashion, I drank and made it worse.

Lets fast forward 9 months to the day she goes into labor and gives birth to our 1st born. My role as the father is supposed to be that of comforting, encouraging, I’m supposed to be positive and show love and support. I’m sure I showed flashes of that but for the most part, I was that monster again. I didn’t allow any family in to celebrate this moment with us. Each of them were forced outside the room and wait. Now some still believe that is the way to go and that’s ok. My reasoning at the time was “You weren’t there when he was conceived, so you won’t be there when he’s born!” I’m sure most of our family didn’t have a problem with not being in the room but the way I conveyed my feelings was undoubtedly rude and most likely arrogant. Baby is born and both mother and son are healthy. Your first born is suppose to be a special experience. One full of sublime thoughts and memories that you’ll never forget. Me? I did do the “right” thing and hang out in the hospital for the short stint we were there. I spent the 1st night at home and from there, well, let’s say I wasn’t nominated for father of the year. Parties, bars, beers, bowling, and more beers. Problem is this was probably the best birth story I have. Yup, that’s right, the best….

Two years and two months later, my second child is born; this time in Butte, MT. This go around, she calls me at work to tell me. I remember thinking “Why the hell would she call me at work to tell me she’s pregnant?!!?!?!?” Years later, sober and clear of mind, why would she want to tell me face to face? Lord knows I wouldn’t! After the reaction I gave her the 1st time, I don’t blame her even a little. What do I do after finding out that I’m going to be a father for the 2nd time? You guessed it! Go to the bar and get hammered!! It’s time to celebrate!! I can’t imagine what I was thinking at that time. I mean, who says “Hey! Guess what? I’m going to be a dad!! Let’s go to the bar and get loaded?!?!?” It just doesn’t make any sense to me. Yet, I did it time and time again. After a night of what seemed to be endless amounts of booze and beer, I finally go home to be with my bride. At this point, I’m home but does it matter? I’ve been passed out all day and the second I wake up, time to drink. If you’re waiting for my acceptance speech for my father of the year award, it’s not coming any time soon. I was sick and everyone knew it but me.

Birthday: From Watertown, SD to Butte, MT. This time it was my bride, my oldest, and of course; yours truly. The night before I kept her up till roughly 4am with my drunken antics. I remember sitting at home in a recliner pounding can after can and playing video games. Looking back at that, maybe holding her hand through contractions would have been better. Maybe I couldn’t traded that cold can for a warm cloth on her head. The monster inside me saw things a little different. As I’m working on my 12oz curls, my bride and 2 year old are laying in bed working through contractions. That’s right, my 2 year old was a better man than I was. How many of you out there can honestly say that your child is more responsible and mature than you? I would hope not a lot. I have the “honor” of holding that distinct privilege. Worst part is, this wouldn’t be the last time my oldest would help my bride through contractions. Time to push and a baby is born. Beings I’m in MT, I don’t know a whole lot of people so I stay in the hospital. As soon as we get home though, drinks. Need help with that 2 year old and new born? Don’t bother me cuz I’m going to play video games and get drunk. Tired after taking care of two kids by yourself all day? Leave me alone because now I have friends and we are going to the bar. Been a long day of changing diapers and cleaning up puke? Sounds like a perfect time to have 20 people at our house that you don’t know while we all get drunk. You think that’s the knight in shining armor my bride dreamt about when she was a little girl?

My 3rd child was born in July of 2005. As bad as this sounds, I don’t even remember how my bride told me she was pregnant. I was in a really dark, painful place at that time. My alcoholism had completely engrossed me at this time. I remember my first daughter being born but the moments after have since been lost. I can’t tell you where I was, who I was with, or what I was doing. I can tell you who I wasn’t with, what I should’ve been doing, and where I should’ve been. I should’ve been with my family, in our home, and should’ve been a dad. The one thing that stands out to me about my 1st daughters birth is my incredible knack for being selfish and ruining things. My daughter was born on July 21st. My father in law also was born on July 21st. When we went to the Dr. that day, he gave my bride the choice of being enduced, or to wait it out. Naturally, my bride said she wanted that beautiful baby girl out. At this time, I disliked my father in law very much. It made me sick that my daughter would share a birthday with this man. I pleaded with my bride to wait just one more day. Our anniversary is the next day and I said what better way to celebrate than the birth of our daughter. Of course I didn’t take into consideration that my bride was 9 months pregnant in the middle of the summer. That she was incredibly uncomfortable. Nope, I was just concerned with what Sam wanted. I’m not even sure my father in law knows that or not. Years later, he and I are thick as thieves and I love that man. Why did I dislike him so much? He was helping raise my kids and stepped up when I checked out. I had no reason to not like him. He was a better father to my children than I was. He took care of my kids when I was getting drunk. Him, his wife, my children, and my wife were the happy family. Me? I was drunk somewhere blaming my problems on everyone but me. After what my in laws have done to help both me and my family, I have no way of repaying that debt. My father in law eventually taught me how to be a man and my mother in law taught me how to love. Two pretty amazing traits if you ask me.

For whatever reason, my bride never divorced me. She left me multiple times, kicked me out, and early in our marriage, filed for divorce and I was served with papers. No one would have blamed her for leaving me, why would they? In fact, all her family, my family, and my close friends all told her to leave me. Audrey stuck with me though. She sat next to me while I threw up, while I went on 3 day binges, while I polished off a case a beer a night, while I started drinking at 7:30am, and while I made her life a living hell. Today I’m just a few short months away from being 5 years sober. I’ve asked her several times in several different ways “Why did you stay?” Her response was/is always the same; “I’ve always loved you” She is proof that angels walk the earth.

I’ve been blessed with 4 children. I have no idea how I was told of the 4th pregnancy. I do remember her birth story though. I remember it vividly although I was absolutely drunk that night. While I was working that night, my bride told me she thought the baby would come that night. She recommended that I get off work and come straight home. Instead, I went to the bar and got drunk. While I’m drinking beers, my 6 year old son is helping my bride through contractions. He’s telling her to breathe through them and holds her hand while she’s in pain. He calls me and tells me I should come home and get mom. About an hour and a half later, I show up. Thank God we lived closed to the hospital because I shouldn’t have been driving. I somehow managed to get us there in one piece. We get her checked in and settled. I drink a few cups of coffee trying to sober up. Realizing the condition I’m in, my bride makes excuses for me. Saying things like, “He’s been super busy and he’s just really tired.” Meanwhile, I’ve passed out on the couch and letting things go that, let’s just say don’t smell the best. I’m snoring, letting gas go, and grinding my teeth while my bride is having our child. I manage to get coherent before our daughter is born. I see her come out, sign the birth certificate, give her name, and back to “sleep”. Awesome husband, huh?

Check out date arrives and it’s time for mom and baby to go home. This is supposed to be that special time that’s thrusted into our memories forever. We do have a memory that’s thrusted into our minds forever, but it’s not so special. The night before they were released from the hospital, I managed to get black out drunk. I remember roughly 5 or 6 people at my place (my 3 other children were with my in-laws) and next thing I know, I wake up on the other side of town at a buddies house. Drunk, confused, and embarrassed, I somehow manage to get home. My bride and newborn daughter got a ride home from the hospital. My family scoured the city looking for my lifeless body in a ditch. When my bride got home, she was greeted with beer cans, cigarette butts, and disappointment. Happily ever after.

4 kids, 0 birth announcements. 4 kids, 0 special memories. 4 kids, 4 acts of a complete monster. There are pictures of us with me drunk or hungover. I’ve been asked if she did to me what I did to her if I would leave her. My answer without hesitation is yes. Why would anyone stay with such a horrific person? I can’t even consider myself a man at that point in my life. Monster is the best word I can think of. As I lay in bed writing this, my bride is to my left, my oldest is in the recliner, my youngest son is at the foot of our bed, and my gorgeous daughters are in their respective rooms sleeping. With the help of some special people, my in laws, my children, and of course my bride, I’ve killed that monster. God willing, April 25th will be 5 years sober for me. I understand that no amount of time being sober will ever make up for those horrific events. My 3 younger kids have forgiven me for my antics. My oldest took a little longer but he to, has indeed forgiven me. My walking angel, of course she’s forgiven me as well. My mother in law tells me on almost a daily basis she loves me. We’ve talked and I’ve apologized and she’s been more than forgiving. My father in law is my best friend outside my bride and children. He has also forgiven me. Family and friends have all forgiven me and told me how proud they are of me. When do I forgive myself? I’m not sure I can.

I see happy people sharing pictures of their babies often. I see it in movies, on TV shows, and with friends. Creative ways of announcing their births with amazing pictures and love. Of course I’m happy for them all but deep down, it saddens me. I wish I could’ve given my bride that. I wish I could’ve been that man she dreamt of when she was a little girl. I wish the birth of our children wasn’t littered with my alcoholism. Although I can’t take back everything I’ve done, I can become the man that my bride dreamt about. I can become the father my boys look up to and the father my girls feel safe around. I also hope to forgive myself one day. For now, I will spend my days enjoying what I have knowing I’m blessed with everything I have; even if it’s a little different than what everyone else has. 14+ years of marriage, 4 children, 4 different birth stories, and 4+ years of sobriety = a happy man and a happy family. Although we haven’t done things the conventional way, the end result is the best. A healthy, loving family of 6 that all love each other despite our faults; no matter how BIG or small they may be.

Cancer, Tacos, and Community!

Right now at this time, I’m 34 years old. I’m a married man and a father of 4. My oldest is 13 and my youngest is 7. I like to think that with the four of them and my bride, who is 29 (side note; she’s been 29 for more than a few years) that the 5 of them keep me “hip”. In April of 2013, my bride convinced me to get the Facebook. It wasn’t until recently I learned just how powerful this tool is.

When I first signed up I would scroll through occasionally while I was bored. From time to time I’d update my status with some football fact or a happy birthday shoutout. Shortly after I opened the Facebook, I celebrated my 3 year anniversary of being sober from alcohol. I was flooded with “likes” and well wishes on my status. It was very overwhelming. From there I wrote a piece regarding my families experience with the Philadelphia Eagles. That reached over a thousand shares as well as several tears from me and my family. My third act would be a challenge to my hometown. That response humbled me to my very core as it set up a night in GPL gym that will forever be thrusted into my memory.

Tonight I write to the tens of people that may, or may not read,this and I’ll tell a tale of friendship, cancer, and a community backing the fight of 2 brave people. I’ll start this off by apologizing for name dropping as I rarely do that in anything I post. These strong people deserve to be recognized if only by the few people that will actually read this.

I first met Maggie Einrem at an NFL draft party at my apartment several years ago. She walked in unannounced and made herself at home. I remember very vividly turning to my friend and saying “who the *%?!#% is that?!?!” Turns out she just started dating a very good friend of mine. Maggie and the rest of the girls hit it off right away and we would all establish a friendship that would see some hard times to stay the least. Today, several years later, Maggie is fighting the fight of her life as she battles breast cancer.

I was 13 years old when I met the best man in my wedding, Tim Brown. Tim and I were thick as thieves through a majority of our school years. Seemed like every weekend he’d stay the night at my house and we spent our nights playing video games, staying up all night, laughing, and irritating the heck out of my parents. Many times my dad would yell from the basement “Boys!! I’m trying to sleep!!” Tim and I would just look at each other and just laugh harder! I set his leg on fire one night and he beat me up with a spoon! We were just a couple of kids enjoying life without a care in the world.

Through mutual friends, Tim and I would meet a pretty young blonde name Tori Gaukel. Tori would later marry and be known as Tori Simon. I was a shy 14 year old teenager and felt awkward being around such a pretty girl. Later as I grew up and got closer to Tori, I would find out how truly amazing she is. Tori was also diagnosed with breast cancer at a young age. She, like many others, opted to not stand idly by as cancer attacked. Tori went on a attack of her own and started Codington County Cares or CCC. Through this organization she would help so many people who, like her, want to fight and find a cure. Today, she is a staple in our community leading the charge against all sorts of illness with “Tori’s Army” firmly behind her.

Prior to today, the only thing that I know that these three people have in common is I destroyed our friendship through my alcoholism. Through my own selfishness I would lose touch with all three of them. Maggie would lose touch with my bride due to my antics. I pushed both Maggie and her boyfriend away with my own selfishness. Like many others both Tim and Tori grew tired of my ways and eventually we lost touch. Since I’ve gotten sober, I’ve slowly started building these relationships back up. What happened today proved to me that true friendships will stand even the worst things if you truly love someone. I can proudly say I love all three of these people.

To my knowledge Tim doesn’t know Maggie (yet). Out of no where I called Tim and shared Maggie’s story against cancer. I asked him if he’d be interested in hosting a benefit for Maggie. Tim is the proud manager at our local Taco Johns. He’s been there for years and has several awards for his hard work with that restaurant. Tim didn’t hesitate to say “Yes! I’d be more than happy to help!” So on November 12th, Tim and his company are donating 50% of the proceeds at Taco Johns to Maggie. From 4-9, you can accomplish a few different things. You can have some amazing food, help Maggie and her fight against cancer, and shake the hand of one of the best people I’ve ever had the pleasure of calling my friend.

After Tim does this selfless act, he simply starts a Facebook status and shares Maggie’s story. He “tags” our good friend Tori in it. As far as I know, they haven’t had any discussion about Maggie and her fight. Tori responds by saying she is working on something as well. Tori responds shortly later with “Codington County Cares will match the proceeds up to $1,500!” Can you imagine donating that kind of money?!? Why does she do it? She does it because she knows what Maggie is going through. She does it because she has a soft heart. She does it because she’s been a mom her whole life and she is always taking care of people. She does it because she’s a walking angel on earth! I was literally brought to tears as I headed back to my desk after finding this out.

I had the pleasure of calling Maggie and giving her the good news. Now for those of us that know Maggie, she’s never one to not speak her mind. For a few long seconds, silence rang loudly in my ear. Maggie thanked me for my very small part and I disconnected the phone with a smile on my face and a tear in my eye. So today I feel like I came full circle. I feel like I rekindled three friendships that I had feared were dead forever. These 3 people are not your average everyday people. They are hardworking solders of God that will stop at nothing to better our community and the people in it. They are also my friends.

Cancer is scary. Maggie has a boyfriend of many years that she loves dearly and he her. She is a daughter, and a mother of two. I talked to her almost daily and she never complains. She came over to my house to pick up her daughter as my beautiful bride watches her for a couple hours after school. Maggie had to shave her head due to the chemo. She popped off her hat with a smile on her face with the fight of a prize fighter in her eyes. Maggie needs a belt. Champions wear belts and she’s a champion. She goes through her everyday battle with courage that very few of us know. That being said, she, or anyone else for that matter, can not fight cancer alone. She needs our help.

On Wednesday, November 12th, I invite you to the Watertown Taco Johns from 4-9pm. As much as I love my friend Tori, I’d love nothing more for her and her amazing organization to pony up that $1,500 and I know she would to. That can’t happen without you. I want my best mans hand to be swollen and have finger marks on it from shaking so many hands. Tim is not a small dude, I know he can shake that many hands! That can’t happen without you. I want Maggie to know that the community she lives in, has her back and supports her unconditionally. That can’t happen without you. I’ll be there doing my best to keep tables clean, floors walkable, and traffic flowing. Nothing would make me happier than to go home with a sore back and feet. My bride will be next to me making sure I don’t screw up. That can’t happen without you!

I can’t think of a single thing better to do on a Wednesday night than battle cancer, have a taco, or two, and hang out with our community as we all fight the good fight; can you?

Fantasy football and my reasons for not liking it

With the 6th pick of the 2000 fantasy draft, I selected Terrell Davis. That was my very 1st pick in my very 1st fantasy draft. I was 19 years old and I’ve played ever since. There were 16 guys in that league with each team selecting 16 players. The draft was done at my brothers friends house. Each owner had a plethora of magazines and stat sheets. I came over with a pen and a paper. I remember the draft taking several hours. This was done before the internet was widely popular and made everything as easy as it is today. If I wanted to pick up a player, I’d call the commissioner. Trades were made via phone calls and later told to the commissioner. I can’t remember where I finished that year, I’m guessing last, and I’ve been hooked ever since…. Till now.

I started playing fantasy football because I’ve always loved the game. It was also a reason for me to hang out with my brother and his friends. I’ve played in standard leagues where running backs are the best, in point per reception leagues, I currently play in a league where QB’s get a point per completion. I’ve played in leagues for free and I’ve played in leagues for over $100.00. I’ve played for trophies, $, and for someone having to do something embarrassing and ludicrous if they finished last. I once made over 30 trades in one season including making 60 different free agent moves. I’ve even played with individual defensive players. Currently I play in a “dynasty” format where we keep 3 players every year. We are also rewarded for drafting rookies who have great years as we are able to hold onto one if we’d like. Point is, I’ve played in just about every league you can think of.

Fantasy football taught me to pay close attention to the other 31 teams and their match ups. It taught me that my team isn’t full of the greatest skill position players in The League. It also taught me that if my RB was playing against my team, it’s “OK” for him to do well as long as my team wins. I’ve since been telling my now 13 year old son, “Reality before fantasy son”. Over the last several months, fantasy football has become less fun for me though. Yes, my team is still solid, so it’s not like I’m losing by any means. Here we are in week 5 and I haven’t made a trade and I’ve made less than 10 roster moves. So what happened that I’ve lost the love for something that I’ve enjoyed for so long?

In August of this year I was watching the HBO series Hard Knocks. Steven Jackson was mentoring the younger running backs with life lessons of life in the NFL. I thought that was pretty awesome. The next day I was telling some co-workers about it and the 1st response I got was “what’s he going to teach them? He did nothing for my fantasy team last year!” Have we as fans forgotten that there are more on a football field than just a QB,RB,WR,TE,K, and a defense/special teams? There are 22 players on a field at the same time. If that RG, or right gaurd, doesn’t pull and block the LOLB, or left outside linebacker, your running back doesn’t get you those 60 yards and a TD. Each position is just as important as the next.

Maybe I’m becoming my fathers son and complaining for the sake of complaining but I get excited about a 6-3 game. I’d like to come into work on a Monday morning and not talk about fantasy football. I would like to talk about how that team just got a big win and how they are going to improve their chances of hoisting the Lombardi trophy at the end of the year. I’d like to go over the X’s and O’s of how a play worked as opposed to “If I would’ve just started this guy instead of that guy I would’ve won my matchup.”

Also, no one cares about your fantasy football team just like no one cares about mine. No one cares that you drafted this guy in the 3rd round and I got that same guy in the 4th in a league that you don’t play in or even know anyone in for that matter. I don’t care that your team was auto drafted because you were having computer issues just like you don’t care that I made a trade for a guy who tore his ACL the next week. I do care about my team, my real life team, winning games in reality. I like to talk football. I like to read and watch things about football. I don’t like when fantasy outweighs reality. I don’t like scrolling through my twitter feed and reading how a guy from Idaho is telling the starting QB from a professional football team that he hopes he rots in eternal brimstone because that QB threw 3 interceptions. There are 32 guys in the ENTIRE planet that are starting QB’s in the NFL. You really think that QB is upset because you lost your fantasy football game? He may, but I doubt it. When did fantasy become more important than reality?

The reality of the situation is simple. There are millions of people playing fantasy football every year. It’s helped The League become the most popular sport in the United States. Ratings are up week after week as every “Joe 6 Pack” sits on the couch and cheers for “his” guy to throw a TD. I’m sure I’m in the minority when I say I don’t care for fantasy football anymore. I’m sure I’ll be criticized for saying I don’t care my teams star RB is struggling because the team is winning. I honestly don’t care if my teams QB throws 3 INTs and my team still wins. Fantasy football shouldn’t be the be all and end all of our Sunday viewings.

The sport of football is played with 11 guys on offense and 11 guys on defense. We talk about how this guy ran for 145 yards and two TD’s but why don’t we talk about that left tackle who had a pancake block that paved the way for that run? Why isn’t the blocking tight end celebrated for blocking his guy 20 yards downfield? Why isn’t the long snapper rewarded for making that perfect snap to the punter and allowing that kicker to make the 55 yard field goal that gave your fantasy team 5 points? I just feel like that fantasy is now outweighing reality and to me that’s a shame.

Last year I made it to the finals of my league. Winner gets paid $600. I played the matchup and benched my star QB who was on the road playing a stout defense. I lost by 10 points and if I had started that QB, I would’ve won. That star QB has no idea who I am or that I even exist. Should I not like the guy I started in his place because he didn’t perform like I thought he would? I don’t think I should.

While I know this post won’t be read by millions, or even thousands, heck, it probably won’t even be read by hundreds, I hope when you turn your TV on to whatever channel your football is on, you enjoy the beauty of the sport for more than just your fantasy team. Pass along the love of a 6-3 game with your children. Revel in the athleticism of a 6’7 340 pound man swinging off a block to set up a screen downfield. Love the actual game of football for more than your fantasy team. Take some time and read about the 46th guy that dresses on Sunday but doesn’t play.

With my rant almost over, I realize that everyone will continue to play fantasy football. My thinking isn’t delusional enough to actually think that fantasy football will ever stop. My hope is that maybe you’ll enjoy the game more for than just that 200 yard performance from your 1st round pick. Enjoy the game on Thursday, the games on Sunday, and the game on Monday night. May the fantasy Gods be in your favor and you win your game this week! Most of all, I hope your team wins this week, unless they’re playing my team!

Fantasy Football and why I don’t like it

With the 6th pick of the 2000 fantasy draft, I selected Terrell Davis. That was my very 1st pick in my very 1st fantasy draft. I was 19 years old and I’ve played ever since. There were 16 guys in that league with each team selecting 16 players. The draft was done at my brothers friends house. Each owner had a plethora of magazines and stat sheets. I came over with a pen and a paper. I remember the draft taking several hours. This was done before the internet was widely popular and made everything as easy as it is today. If I wanted to pick up a player, I’d call the commissioner. Trades were made via phone calls and later told to the commissioner. I can’t remember where I finished that year, I’m guessing last, and I’ve been hooked ever since…. Till now.

I started playing fantasy football because I’ve always loved the game. It was also a reason for me to hang out with my brother and his friends. I’ve played in standard leagues where running backs are the best, in point per reception leagues, I currently play in a league where QB’s get a point per completion. I’ve played in leagues for free and I’ve played in leagues for over $100.00. I’ve played for trophies, $, and for someone having to do something embarrassing and ludicrous if they finished last. I once made over 30 trades in one season including making 60 different free agent moves. I’ve even played with individual defensive players. Currently I play in a “dynasty” format where we keep 3 players every year. We are also rewarded for drafting rookies who have great years as we are able to hold onto one if we’d like. Point is, I’ve played in just about every league you can think of.

Fantasy football taught me to pay close attention to the other 31 teams and their match ups. It taught me that my team isn’t full of the greatest skill position players in The League. It also taught me that if my RB was playing against me team, it’s “OK” for him to do well as long as my team wins. I’ve since been telling my now 13 year old son, “Reality before fantasy son”. Over the last several months, fantasy football has become less fun for me though. Yes, my team is still solid, so it’s not like I’m losing by any means. Here we are in week 5 and I haven’t made a trade and I’ve made less than 10 roster moves. So what happened that I’ve lost the love for something that I’ve enjoyed for so long?

In August of this year I was watching the HBO series Hard Knocks. Steven Jackson was mentoring the younger running backs with life lessons of life in the NFL. I thought that was pretty awesome. The next day I was telling some co-workers about it and the 1st response I got was “what’s he going to teach them? He did nothing for my fantasy team last year!” Have we as fans forgotten that there are more on a football field than just a QB,RB,WR,TE,K, and a defense/special teams? There are 22 players on a field at the same time. If that RG, or right gaurd, doesn’t pull and block the LOLB, or left outside linebacker, your running back doesn’t get you those 60 yards and a TD. Each position is just as important as the next.

Maybe I’m becoming my fathers son and complaining for the sake of complaining but I get excited about a 6-3 game. I’d like to come into work on a Monday morning and not talk about fantasy football. I would like to talk about how that team just got a big win and how they are going to improve their chances of hoisting the Lombardi trophy at the end of the year. I’d like to go over the X’s and O’s of how a play worked as opposed to “If I would’ve just started this guy instead of that guy I would’ve won my matchup.”

Also, no one cares about your fantasy football team just like no one cares about mine. No one cares that you drafted this guy in the 3rd round and I got that same guy in the 4th in a league that you don’t play in or even know anyone in for that matter. I don’t care that your team was auto drafted because you were having computer issues just like you don’t care that I made a trade for a guy who tore his ACL the next week. I do care about my team, my real life team, winning games in reality. I like to talk football. I like to read and watch things about football. I don’t like when fantasy outweighs reality. I don’t like scrolling through my twitter feed and reading how a guy from Idaho is telling the starting QB from a professional football team that he hopes he rots in eternal brimstone because that QB threw 3 interceptions. There are 32 guys in the ENTIRE planet that are starting QB’s in the NFL. You really think that QB is upset because you lost your fantasy football game? He may, but I doubt it. When did fantasy become more important than reality?

The reality of the situation is simple. There are millions of people playing fantasy football every year. It’s helped The League become the most popular sport in the United States. Ratings are up week after week as every “Joe 6 Pack” sits on the couch and cheers for “his” guy to throw a TD. I’m sure I’m in the minority when I say I don’t care for fantasy football anymore. I’m sure I’ll be criticized for saying I don’t care my teams star RB is struggling because the team is winning. I honestly don’t care if my teams QB throws 3 INTs and my team still wins. Fantasy football shouldn’t be the be all and end all of our Sunday viewings.

The sport of football is played with 11 guys on offense and 11 guys on defense. We talk about how this guy ran for 145 yards and two TD’s but why don’t we talk about that left tackle who had a pancake block that paved the way for that run? Why isn’t the blocking tight end celebrated for blocking his guy 20 yards downfield? Why isn’t the long snapper rewarded for making that perfect snap to the punter and allowing that kicker to make the 55 yard field goal that gave your fantasy team 5 points? I just feel like that fantasy is now outweighing reality and to me that’s a shame.

Last year I made it to the finals of my league. Winner gets paid $600. I played the matchup and benched my star QB who was on the road playing a stout defense. I lost by 10 points and if I had started that QB, I would’ve won. That star QB has no idea who I am or that I even exist. Should I not like the guy I started in his place because he didn’t perform like I thought he would? I don’t think I should.

While I know this post won’t be read by millions, or even thousands, heck, it probably won’t even be read by hundreds, I hope when you turn your TV on to whatever channel your football is on, you enjoy the beauty of the sport for more than just your fantasy team. Pass along the love of a 6-3 game with your children. Revel in the athleticism of a 6’7 340 pound man swinging off a block to set up a screen downfield. Love the actual game of football for more than your fantasy team. Take some time and read about the 46th guy that dresses on Sunday but doesn’t play.

With my rant almost over, I realize that everyone will continue to play fantasy football. My thinking isn’t delusional enough to actually think that fantasy football will ever stop. My hope is that maybe you’ll enjoy the game more for than just that 200 yard performance from your 1st round pick. Enjoy the game on Thursday, the games on Sunday, and the game on Monday night. May the fantasy Gods be in your favor and you win your game this week! Most of all, I hope your team wins this week, unless they’re playing my team!

The Day After

Another Mom’s day has come and gone. I’m happy to say that my bride of 13+ years has celebrated 13 of these special days. Some of these days have been met with tough times. Others have been met with smiles. The one constant has been our children. Moms day is a day to give mom a rest and celebrate the permanent “S” that she so proudly wears under her shirt. I personally, am incredibly jealous of Mother’s Day. Let me tell you why Dad’s get the short end of the stick.

Sometime in June, I’m not sure anyone really knows, is a day on the calendar known as Father’s Day. Father’s Day is a fictional day that does not carry the same weight as it’s counter day, Mother’s Day. Moms day is in May while all the beautiful children of the world are still hard at work in school. Dad’s day is supposedly in June while said kids are at home for the summer. I here by petition to move dad’s day to September.

Let’s compare the two days. Moms wake up to her tiny ones who have surprised her with some French toast. Granted, that French toast was made with a stick of butter, an uncooked egg, and 2 slices of bread slapped together in a bowl, but hey, it’s the thought that counts. Dads wake up on their “special” day generally with a knee to the crotch from a rowdy little boy. Point goes to mom. 1-0 mom.

After that amazing breakfast in bed, it’s time to move to the living room for gifts. This is when the little tikes present their hand made arts and craft they did with the professional Michelangelos that our school systems employ as art teachers. Here moms receive Time Magazines dedicated specifically to them. They get such things as gigantic, beautiful butterflies that represent how special mom is. They are generally accompanied with some precious thing that her kids say like ” My mom is special because she cleans a room in 2 minutes” or “My mom is athletic because she watches my dad play softball”. Dads get a new tool for the grill. “Go cook dad”. My favorite stero typical dad’s day gift is a tie. Thanks. Guess I’ll wear this tie to work tomorrow where I’ll be reminded that I’m working which most people don’t like. Point goes to mom. I actually give this multiple points because there’s nothing better than homemade gifts from little kids. Mom 4-0

So after dad has spent countless hours slaving over a hot grill in the middle of June when it’s 108 degrees outside, he’s “rewarded” with “I’ll take that plate and do the dishes”. Great!! Thanks a bunch! But I generally don’t do the dishes anyway. Mom will get treated to a nice restaurant meal where not only does she not have to clean up, she doesn’t have to pay! She’s generally greeted by the server with a “Happy Mother’s Day!!” While dad is greeted by a hot, smoking grill. Advantage mom. I give this section 30 points because that’s how much the meal will cost. 34-0 mom.

Lets discuss moms day and sports. Major League Baseball celebrates moms day with pink bats. They show all of the world how important they are by donning pink all over the diamond. Grown men are wearing pink batting gloves with pink arm bands. Dallas Braden, a former pitcher for the Oakland Athletics celebrated moms day by throwing a perfect game! Sports celebrate dad’s day by…. well, I’m not real sure they do. I give this section 23 points due to that’s how many perfect games have ever been thrown. 57-0 mom.

It may sound like I’m complaining, and truth be told I am. No disrespect to my own mother (I love you mom 🙂 but my bride is the best mother on the planet. What she sacrifices for her family on a daily basis amazes me. I’m complaining because I’m ashamed my family doesn’t treat everyday like moms day. Dad’s day is treated very special at my house because my bride goes out of her way to make it that way. It’s almost like everyday is dad’s day when in reality, it should be more the other way. I score this section 308. This gives the final score 365-0 mom.

With the final score being 365 to 0, it’s a reminder that all moms out there deserve to be treated like it’s Mother’s Day. I need to wake my bride up with a properly cooked breakfast in bed in March as if it were Mother’s Day. I need to call my own mother in August and tell her I love her as if it were Mother’s Day. Kids need to make cards for their moms in September as if it were Mother’s Day. Without mom, none of us would be here. I wish I could say I treated my bride, my mother, and my mother in law this way. Maybe I’ll start doing so.

I do appreciate the grilling tool, the tie, and yes, even the knee to the crotch. Dad’s day is very awesome and I am very honored to be part of the special fraternity that is being a dad. The main reason I’m able to be a dad though is because the mother of my children has taught me how to parent. Without her, there is no dad’s day. She makes it special so my kids follow her lead and follow suit.

While most of this post is sarcastic and has a lot of light “humor” in it, the last two paragraphs are very real and sincere. I shouldn’t need a Sunday in May to call my mother and tell her I love her. I shouldn’t need a day on the calendar to give me a heads up to mop the floor for my bride. A guy could very easily plug in a vacuum and push it back and fourth a few times. I shouldn’t have to be reminded to extend my gratitude to those that have, and continue make my life easier.

So I petitioned to have Father’s Day moved to September, it should really be just another day we celebrate mom. I haven’t always been the best son to my mother but I hope to get better. To all current mothers out there your very appreciated on every day, not just a Sunday in May. To all future mothers out there, I hope every day is special for you, not just that Sunday in May. To a high school friend of mine who is less than a month away from being a mom for the 1st time after surviving breast cancer, you’ve been a mom your entire life. Moms give inspiration and care. You’ve cared for, and inspired thousands of people. You’ll be an amazing mother and I’m incredibly happy for you and your husband. I’m honored to call you a friend.

Mother’s Day will come and go. The love your mom, wife, and yes, even your mother in law, have for you will never leave. I’ll celebrate the day after Mother’s Day with a phone call to both my mom and my mother in law. I’ll tell them both I love them. I’ll thank both of them. I’ll celebrate that Monday by simply doing something for my bride without her having to ask me. After all, she does those things for me everyday.

A Royal Experience

My father in law is a Twins fan. I’m a fan of baseball. On August 10th 1994 I quit watching the game and gave my allegiance to the NFL. In 1998 with the help of Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa, my interest in the game was reborn. Prior to ’94 I was an Oakland Athletics fan. Since then, I really have had no loyalty to one team or the other. I love the game. That being said, I make the four hour drive to Target field every year with my father in law to watch his beloved Twins. We usually see about a half dozen games a year. This year we decided to visit Kaufman Stadium, home of the Kansas City Royals. After the experience we had, I may just have a new team to cheer for.

The 2014 All-Star game is in MN this year. My father in law being a big Twins fan, naturally would love to attend. Me, being a huge baseball fan, don’t feel much different than he does. We’ve talked about that weekend since it was announced as the venue. As we discussed how we were going to make this trip a reality, it became clear we wouldn’t. Life happens and the cost would be just too much for us. The “consolation” prize was Kaufman Stadium. We’ve talked about it for years and we finally made it a reality. The “K” did not disappoint!

After church, my bride, my father in law, mother in law and myself all went out for brunch. While eating we pulled up the Twins schedule and realized they were in KC for a 3 game series over the weekend of the 18th, 19th, and 20th of April 2014. After some delicate, and slick talking, we convinced our wives to let us go. Next step; tickets. Straight to his house and to the computer! Once tickets are bought and payed for, we realized the “mistake” we made. This was Easter weekend. Neither lady was overly thrilled at what happened but they both understood the importance to us. You see this trip isn’t just about baseball.

Friday morning rolls around and it’s time to hit the road. From our home town to Kaufman Stadium is roughly 7.5 hours south. You can’t take that kind of drive with just anyone. You need a special kind of relationship to endure over 7 hours in a vehicle with someone. We have that kind of relationship. To most, 7 hour car drives seem boring and unrewarding. For me, it was one on one time with one of my favorite people. 7.5 hours quickly disappeared with silly banter, bad jokes, and a few unexpected moments of “road rage”. In what seemed like a blink of an eye, we found our way to our destination; One Royal Way, better known as Kaufman Stadium, home of the Kansas City Royals. A 3 game series with just him and I. Each game brought a unique experience with what seemed like it was catered specifically for us.

Friday: Game time 7:10 pm.
After over 7 hours of driving we are finally standing outside the gate. Neither one of us had been there and the anticipation was that of a child on Christmas morning. Standing in line for what seemed to be an hour, (it was actually just about 15 minutes) the gates open and we float into the “K”. We are greeted with a smile and a “Hello! Welcome to the K! Enjoy the game”. This was odd for me. I’ve been to many different professional venues and the workers don’t seem very interested in saying “Hello” let alone helping. These helpful workers would be become a staple of our weekend.

We walk around the beauty of what is the “K”. From the awe inspiring water falls in center field to the majestic Crown towering above the falls, this stadium is gorgeous!! After taking countless pictures, we finally go to our seats. The seats were reasonably priced and we were more than happy with them. First pitch is thrown and the lights come on. The beauty of this venue is slapping us both in the face. The game didn’t seem important to me that night. It was more about spending too much $ on food and drink. It was about the laughs and silly conversations. The sights, sounds, and smells of the park enamored me. The Twins lost, yet neither of us were bummed. We finally got to see this park and the company was amazing!! As great as Friday was, it fails in comparison to Saturday.

The week of the trip I spent some time on the Royals website. We love touring ball fields as you learn so much about the team, stadium, and generally get to go on the field. $20 well spent. Well the Royals offer a variety of tours which I thought was neat. So after browsing for a while I run across the “Game Day All Access Tour” for a “mere” cost of $300 you get a bevy of prizes. The focus of this is being on the field for batting practice and the 1st base camera bay for the National Anthem. So I sent an email to Morrie from the Royals. Morrie called me back immediately after the email was sent. He was incredibly helpful and now all I had to do was convince my “boss” to let me spend the extra money. After that hurdle was cleared, my father in law had to get permission from his wife as well. They both gave us the green light and the tour was on!!

Morrie was nice enough to give us reserved parking so we belly up to front row parking behind the stadium. We make the jaunt to gate C where we are greeted with another “Hello! Good morning and welcome to the K!” We are then introduced to both Morrie and Judy. After a quick introduction and a minor “wardrobe malfunction” we start the tour. You see my father in law is a die hard Twins fan. That morning we were guest of the Royals and his attire wasn’t Royal appropriate. So after a quick change from a Twins shirt to a nice Royals polo, we start one of the most amazing experiences of our lives.

As we sit in the media room, I’m reminded of how special this weekend is. It’s not every day you’re sitting in a big league media room. This is the room where managers and players sit at the table and answer a plethora of what seems like unnecessary questions. Where managers get second guessed and members of the media act like they know more than the managers and players. After some explanation of a few pictures and a photo opp, we head to the field. As a kid, all I ever wanted to do is hit a baseball for a living. Lack of talent never afforded me that luxury. Standing on a MLB field, is the closet I’ll ever get. In one word; it’s awesome!!

Standing in the on deck circle with the clay beneath your feet is impressive indeed. A smile lights up my face as I have that feeling as a kid on Christmas just after opening the gift and realizing you got EXACTLY what you wanted. Seeing my father in law on the same spot, with the same smile was priceless!! We get a few pictures and watch the Royals come out onto the field one by one. Both Morrie and Judy knew exactly how to handle this scenario. For the most part, they left us alone. They let us take pictures, talk to each other, laugh and smile without interruption. Every now and then, Judy would swing over and check on us. They were both amazing. Their efforts will always be near and dear to me.

Listening to the crack of the bat will forever be thrusted into my memory. The talent these ball players have is definitely a show of shows. Being that close to them hitting is nothing short of remarkable. As we are watching BP, Judy comes over and says “Why don’t you say hi to Morrie” Turns out Morrie is having a sit down visit with Salvador Perez, Gold Glove catcher for the Royals. Salvador signs our complimentary canvas print, shakes our hands, and heads off to work. At that point Aoki runs by and drops something on the filed. Judy picks it up and is clearly complexed by what it is. She hands it to me and I tell her it’s a finger guard. For a brief moment I put it on and demonstrate to her how it works and explain it’s use. Just then Aoki comes over and is looking for it. I slide it off my finger and reach out to hand it to him. He smiles at me, signs our canvas print, and even poses for a picture with us. To him that was an encounter I’m sure he’s forgotten. To us, it will be a life lasting memory.

After idle chit chat while BP is going, our on field experience is about to wrap up. Just when we thought it was over, Billy Butler, DH for the Royals, graces us with a handshake and an autograph. He was genuine and kind. He had that big league persona yet seemed very humble. It was clear that he enjoys being a big league ball player. From there it was time to head upstairs. As we are on our way to meet Rex Hudler, we run into Dick Bramer, announcer for the Minnesota Twins!! This was a treat for my father in law as he loves the Twins and enjoys listening to Dick call games. Mr. Bramer was incredibly kind as we visited for a bit and he posed for a picture and gave us both an autograph. After that meeting, it was onto to meet Rex Hudler. Like many before him he greeted us with a smile, handshake and an autograph. I was flabbergasted by how polite and genuine everyone was.

After a whirlwind of events and handshakes its off to the first base camera bay for a front row seat to the greatest song ever composed, the Star-Spangled Banner. Walking though the bowels of the stadium was neat indeed. Aoki and Justin Maxwell glide right by us as they head to the field. Waiting to head up to the field we are standing right in front of the color guard. A humbling experience it was. As we head up the steps, just at the top of the stairs is the host of Crown Vision. We chat for a minute and I come to find out there is a slim possibility that I can throw out the 1st pitch for Sundays game!! I make my sell to her and she takes down our seating info. During the singing of the Anthem, I’m over whelmed by a sense of patriotism and pride. Goose bumps fill my arms as I relish what I know to be our final moments in this phenomenal tour. Upon completion Judy escorts us to our seats and our tour is officially over.

The excitement of what is surely not your normal game day experience isn’t over though. As we sit down in our cushy seats, I glance to my left and look at the gentleman sitting directly next to me. Turns out he’s a scout for the Cleveland Indians. The guys in front of us are scouts for the Rangers and the Red Sox. I would have loved for nothing more than to pick his brain, but I understood they were all working. In between innings I idly chatted with him but knew better to try and have a lengthy conversation. It was fun watching the radar gun right in front of me though! To add to an already amazing day, we were catered to at the game. Our normal stadium food of hamburgers, hot dogs,and peanuts were delivered right to us!! Thirsty? No problem, they’ve got a soda for you just a few minutes away!! I didn’t miss a single pitch of that game and I’m very grateful for that.

After the game we head over to meet Morrie one last time and he showers us with gifts. A signed bat and ball for both of us being the highlight. I told him of the possibility of throwing out the 1st pitch and he says “We better get you a Royals shirt!!” He gives me a nice Royals polo and sends us packing with yet another handshake and autograph. Walking out the stadium with a big league bat hoisted over my shoulder truly was a memorable walk. Honored and blessed for that experience is truly an understatement. We go back to our room, grill some steaks, and revel in what was truly an unforgettable experience.

Sunday morning rolls around and it’s time for the finale. I park my butt in my seat as I’m waiting for my invitation to complete a lifelong dream of throwing out the 1st pitch. While that invitation never came, I can’t help but not be bummed. How can I be bummed when I just had an amazing weekend of ball and family!! 3 games in 3 days and one wicked sunburn!! Countless memories of players, sites, sounds, and the smell of the ball park. I’m reminded that every where we went we were greeted with a handshake, a smile, and a welcome. It’s no wonder Kansas City is Royal.

As a fan I appreciate the hospitality the Royals showed us. It was an experience very similar to that of Disney Land. Every where we went people were kind and generous. To Morrie, Judy, and the entire Kansas City Royals organization, I thank you. I thank you for making this trip memorable for both my father in law and myself. The Royals are a class act organization from the players to the young lady who wanded me at the gates. She wanded me with a smile, a handshake, and a genuine love for her job. Gilda, a member of the stadium ushers was Royal as well. Two large sodas, two pretzels, and a bag of peanuts in hand, I start making the trek back to my seat. I’m very careful as not to spill. This walk almost seemed like a marathon long. I’m incredibly nervous about dropping everything. Just when I thought the trip couldn’t get any better, Gilda says “Can I help you with that?” Absolutely!!! A simple gesture of bringing down our pretzels and saving me the embarrassment of spilling all over myself was impressive to me. I’ve been in that same scenario before and was never offered help. Gilda went above and beyond. She is the definition of kind. The Royals are impressive.

We drove 7.5 hours for a few baseball games. We stayed for all 27 innings but that’s secondary to the memories I’ll come home with. The definition of royal is “having the status of a king or queen or a member of their family” as I sit here and write this I have no crown on my head or a jestor giving me grapes. For 3 unforgettable days though I felt as if I did. We went to KC for a few baseball games, we came home with memories that are fitting of that of a King.

So I may not don a crown on my head or have an impressive chair, I do have a crown on my shirt. The crown of a Kansas City Royal. I guess that makes me Royal. With the help of some very special people, an organization, and a bunch of people who have already forgotten us, the Royals earned themselves one extra fan this weekend. A fitting end to a Royal trip!!

By: Sam Mooney

April 25, 2010 A day of redemption

The afternoon of April 25th 2010 I woke up in the middle of the afternoon. Before my sluggish feet hit the floor, I buried my weary face in my lifeless hands. I was defeated. I was a 29 year old boy without a clue. A husband and a father of four with zero direction. I was never known as Sam the dad, Sam the husband, or even Sam the friend. I was Sam, the guy with a drinking problem. I was Sam the alcoholic. That afternoon I became Sam.

For the 10’s of people that read what I “write” should know 2 things for certain. 1: I’m a recovering alcoholic. I’ve got 4 years sober and am incredibly proud of that. 2: I’m married to my best friend. She is the most inspirational woman in my life. I write about her often. This post she asked if she could write about me. Who am I to tell her no?

My bride makes a huge, HUGE, deal out of April 25th. She goes all out and I find it to be a very emotional day for me. Below are her words. For some reason she still loves me and I’m forever grateful to her. She’s the love of my life. There’s no doubt in my mind, without her, I’d be dead. Thank you Audrey. 4 years sober doesn’t make up for the years of drinking, and all the hurt I caused. It’s a start though and I thank you for making it a big day for all of us!!

April 25th is not JUST another day in the Mooney household. April 25th is a day we celebrate like a birthday, Christmas, anniversary, etc. April 25, 2010 changed our lives. It’s kind of a big deal!

On April 25, 2010 Sam woke up and gave us the best news ever. No he didn’t win the lottery, he didn’t get a raise at work and he didn’t do something so amazing that he was noticed by anyone but his family and friends. That morning he woke up and came to the kitchen to let me- his bride, and his 4 wonderful kids know that he was done. DONE. Done drinking. Now I have heard this before so yes, I was skeptical. He cried, I cried and the kids cried. There was something different this time. I just didn’t know what yet.

I was used to lies, deceit. The ups and downs of an alcoholic in the home. I grew up this way. This was nothing different. I knew that the only emotion an alcoholic had was drunk. Drunk as an emotion? Yes. He’s crying, why? He’s drunk. He’s so mad he punches a hole in the wall, why? He’s drunk. He’s so happy over the smallest little thing, he’s laughing uncontrollably at at something not so funny, why? He’s drunk. I’m an eye-roller and I know this. I have gotten better though because now I don’t have to roll my eyes at all of these aforementioned things.

Now there are emotions I never thought I would see. True happiness, true sadness, an anger that isn’t so scary. When he feels, I feel. There were emotions we hadn’t seen for years. As a mother, seeing your children play around with their father is both joyful and sexy as hell. Knowing that they love their daddy so much and that that love is reciprocated is pure joy. Playing catch with a softball or football is normal now – outside and yes, even inside. It’s the small things! The girls painting dads toenails, doing his hair, having dance offs with him. These are all things that I can’t wait to get home from work to see. Bonds with the kids that will last a lifetime!

3 Months go by and still holding onto hope but knowing that this is a “One day at a time” disease is playing with me. Do I trust him? Do I want what is to come? What if this is just a short lived fairytale? He asked me to renew our vows. I couldn’t. I wasn’t there yet. Fast forward a few more months and I knew. I knew my husband was everything he said he was going to be. He is my best friend, he is a father, a dad, he is my companion in life.

Many people asked me why I stayed, asked me why I didn’t leave him. Honestly, I tried. We barely made it to our 1st anniversay and then again our 10th. I’ve made mistakes. He made mistakes. We were young when we married and started having kids. A relationship is hard. Factor in alcohol and kids and a it got a whole lot harder. I’m glad I stayed. I’m glad we fought for us. Whether we did it at the same time or not – end result is still the same. We are happily married and parenting together! I’m not proud of our fights, Of our kids crying and seeing us at our worst, Of our family fighting. What I am proud of is him.

For some family and friends they decided Sam’s new life wasn’t for them. And as much as it makes me sad and wonder what the hell they are thinking, I come to the realization that some only liked/loved drunk Sam. They aren’t giving sober Sam a chance. Let me tell you that Sam being sober is beyond awesome. He’s still the same Sam. He’s still smart and loves a good sports trivia question, loves football and baseball, lives for softball in the summer. He’s still that guy that can sit down and play a video game for hours. He’s still a son, a brother, a friend, a husband, a father, an ump, a player, a coach, a human who has turned his life around. He just loves more, fights less, thinks things through and would rather stay home with his family versus going to a party/bar.

Do I wish this would have happened earlier in our marriage? Absolutely but it didn’t. I hold no more anger. No more throwing this or that in his face. No more bringing up the past unless in good fun. I let go. I let God. What I have today is what I have always wanted, prayed for. What I have today is a love for my husband that runs through every vein in my body.

Sam not only takes it one day at a time, he has been reached out to, to help others do this as well. He is amazing at it too. Spending time on the phone with friends in need. Listening to bits and pieces of other’s stories do tug at my heart because I know all to well but there is more to this. In the end, they will have won their lives back. They will gain control.

He has taken to blogging and if you haven’t read any of his writings, YOU SHOULD!! The way he paints a picture with his words is truly amazing! I’ve cried, I’ve laughed and I’ve been extremely happy to be by his side when he puts out a challenge, when he relives some of our past, when he is on top of the world due to the experiences he’s had at a football or baseball game.

Sam, you make me so happy. You make me so proud. You make me….ME. You are my better half. You are my till death do us part. I am happy we renewed our vows last year with our friends and family there. I am happy. I am in love. I’m enjoying every minute of everyday with the one I chose to live out the rest of my days with. You give me crazy butterflies. Everyday I wake up next to you, every time I hear your voice on the phone, every “Hey Momma” I hear, every text, everything about you, us makes my heart skip a beat.

So there you have it! For some reason, after the Ramen Noodle incident, the Super Bowl of 2004, and even the tots in the kitchen, she stuck it out. The plan is to bottle up whatever happened that afternoon and sell it. I’ll turn all alcoholics into loving husbands and wives across the country. I’ll make my bride proud and those that quit on me realize they gave up too soon.

I guess this is where I end this with a clever metaphor or a sappy thought. For this particular post I think I’ll keep it simple. Today I’ve been sober for four years and I’m damn proud of that!!

Softball Junkie

The game of softball is played several different ways. From competitive ball, to guys drinking a few beers and just playing around. There are teams that travel the state and others that even travel the country. There are teams of men, teams of women, and even a combination of both. There are Junior Olympic teams that compete. Kids playing that are 10 years old and younger. In any town across the country, chances are pretty good you can find a softball game going on any day of the week. You may even see a seniors game being played. Folks at the ripe young age of 65+ are still swinging at that big yellow ball. You can find that ball in a 11”, 12”, 14”, and even a 16”. Point is, no matter how old, or young, no matter what your skill set, the game of ASA softball has something for you.

The game of softball is much more than 10 individuals on the field. It’s far more complicated than just throwing and hitting. It’s more rewarding than hoisting a trophy or plaque. When played properly it teaches you how to communicate. If batter one comes up and fielder 6 knows how he hits, fielder 6 will talk to his pitcher and let him know. The pitcher then signals to the rest of the defense to let them know. This is something that happens quickly so the game also teaches you how to think fast. Communication is incredibly important in this game. How many times have we seen two outfielders chasing down a ball and it lands right between them? This happens because the 2 aren’t communicating. If one of them yell “GOT IT” or “BALL” this issue doesn’t occur. I’m sure there are careers out there that don’t require communication but I have to believe they’re not that many. In my everyday job, I talk on the phone with customers all day long in a sales atmosphere. Granted the information that is being communicated isn’t the same, but the game has taught me to think quickly while communicating clearly. This is a skill set that the game has sharpened for me.

Softball is all about the game played between the white lines. The players make the game. From diving catches to a throw deep in the hole that is dug out with a flawless stretch. Without the players, the game doesn’t exist. People come to see the players play. That being said the game couldn’t be played without the “Boys in blue” either. The unsung heroes of the great game. I have the pleasure of being both a player and an umpire. After umpping countless games, it gave me a better appreciation for the game. Who in their right mind wants to be an umpire? The job title should read as such. “How would you like to be yelled at daily? Are you interested in making split second decisions that will upset 50% of the people involved? If you said yes to these 1st two questions AND you are willing to be underpaid, then I have a job for YOU!!” Umpires are a necessity in the game. The keep the flow of the game going. They make the obvious calls such as balls, strikes, safe, and out. They are also making the ruling on a play that you’ve never heard of before. We are calling obstruction on a ground ball. We are taking the time to explain the rules to the game that you love. We have to be able to communicate with the players and coaches so they better understand the specific rules of the game. We are also communicating with each other constantly. We are discussing the previous play in between innings. We are talking this rule over while pointing out correct mechanics. It may be more important for an umpire to communicate than a player. With all this communicating going on, an umpires perfect game is to not be noticed. An umpire will never make every call correct in an game. You may miss a strike here or a ball there. Point is, we as umpires try to make the game about the player and not us.

The definition of confidence is “a feeling or belief that you can
do something well or succeed at something” If you are playing the competitive side of the game, you better have confidence. The game has taught me how to be confident. Playing any position you have to want the ball. You have to want to make that play to end the inning or rally. Do you have the stones to come up with the bases loaded with 2 outs down by 1 and come up with a single to tie, or better yet win the game? How will you react when the ball is hit on a liner to your glove side and if the ball gets by you, you lose the game? The game can humble you quickly. As a player, if you don’t have the confidence to come up with a play, chances are you won’t.

As an umpire you better have confidence in your call. If you give a soft out call on a bang bang play at 1st, you’re going to have 11 players down your throat. They are like sharks smelling blood. Players aren’t stupid, they can see doubt. I’ve heard players say “Are you sure? Are you telling me he’s out, or are you asking me?” You better have the confidence in both your mechanics and your voice when making that call. If you call a strike at 11’ tall in the 1st inning, are you going to have the confidence to call that same pitch a strike in the 7th in a one run game? You better! If not, you’ll hear about it. Confidence can be used in all facets of life. In my job, if I don’t exude confidence, my customer will hear this and whatever leverage I had is now gone completely. The game teaches you how to be confident. If you are standing out in Right Field with your head up in the clouds, all it takes is one guy to go that way and the flood gates will open. It’s very easy to find that one guy out in the field who looks “shaky” and the other 9 or 10 guys will go to that exact same spot, over and over. Same in my job. If my customer sees or hears I lack confidence, he’ll continue to try and negotiate a lower price. He can hear the lack of confidence and he will expose that.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is the game can be more than a game if you allow it. I was in a job interview last year and the following dialogue occurred.
Him: You’re an umpire. I’d imagine in that line of work you deal with a lot of adversity. How do you handle that?
Me: To be honest, I haven’t really dealt with a whole lot of adversity while umpiring.
Him: So you mean to tell me that you make every call right every time?
Me: I certainly don’t. However, the calls I do get wrong I sell them good enough to where they think I got it right.
The game can teach you as much as you want or as little. I choose to be a student of the game. I’ve passed this love on to my oldest. My family is a softball family. 7 days a week during the months of May through August we have softball. I ump or play. My kids play the game. My bride loves the game. At some point I’d like to give back to the game as I feel the game has given me so much. Part of my way of giving back is getting my kids involved as much as possible. My oldest is a sponge. He is with us ALL the time during ball events. He listens during every discussion and soaks up all that info. I see him use that info on the field when he plays. I’m very proud of him while he flashes those leadership qualities. He’s a warrior on the dirt. Proud dad moments happen frequently with him.

The game has taught me sportsmanship. How to act like a professional in an amateur sport. June 29th 2013 we are playing in a tournament out of state roughly 4 hours away. In our 1st game at 7:30 in the morning I broke my arm. The ball came up the middle and hit our pitchers leg. He attempted the throw from his back. As I went to scoop the ball, the runners shin collided with my arm and it exploded. Our left fielder heard the snap of my bone breaking. The other field heard it break. As I sit on my butt grasping my arm against my chest, I’m fighting back tears. I’m trying to be the “tough” guy as I don’t want my wife or sons to be worried. Hind sight being 20/20, they knew it was broke and I could’ve let those tears fly. As I’m laying there grimacing through my mouth guard I feel hands on my shoulders. I hear voices of concern. I see sorrow on faces of players. After what seemed to be an eternity, I finally got off the field and headed for the hospital. Upon returning to the field I was welcomed with questions, smiles, and hugs. My teammates took my sons with them for breakfast. They grabbed all my gear. They took care of my family because they knew we needed their help. They went above and beyond. They were amazing! Even after their well wishes and what nots, what happened next surprised me even more

After getting back to the complex complete with sling and medication, I was roaming through the area with my bride and some teammates. Standing at the concession, the manager of the team we were playing when I broke my arm approached me. He reached his hand out for a firm handshake and followed it with “How are you doing” as he glanced down at my arm. I informed him it was broken. His reaction to this day gives me goose bumps. He shared his condolences as tears welted up in his eyes. He shook my hand and gave me a hug and walked back to his teammates who were sitting at a picnic table. Keep in mind I’ve never met this man before in my life. I only know him from playing against him for 3 innings in a softball game. I glanced over as he delivered the news to his team. One by one that team came over to me and greeted me with a handshake and hug. I’ve never witnessed that display of sportsmanship in my life. I’ve been a part of several heated confrontations while on the field. I’ve seen a lot of ugly while umpping and playing. All that negative is outweighed by that team. It amazed me the compassion they showed to a complete stranger. His wife later came to me with an email address and told me to keep in touch. I remember telling my team, and more importantly my sons, that’s how you act. That’s a perfect example of how to be professional in an amateur sport.

To some the game of softball is a recreation sport to just hang out and “gives me something to do”. To others it’s a way of life. To me it’s an important part of my life. Through the game I’ve made connections all across the state in a short span. I hope to expand those connections each year as I never know where the game will take me. I’ve made lifelong friends that I’ve played against or with for years. I’ve learned from older players who are on their way out. I’ve listened to Hall of Fame umpires share the plethora of experience they have. I’ve sat in hotels near the pool and shared laughs with teammates as some idiot does a cannonball into the shallow end of the pool. I’ve sat in restaurants on the other side of the state with 10+ umpires from all different cities as we share stories and give our umpire in charge a hard time. While the people, location, and setting may all change, the once constant is the game. It always gets back to the game. When summer rolls around, it’s the game. The game takes care of family and friends.

If it weren’t for my bride, these softball experiences wouldn’t happen. My fondest “softball” experience was July 22nd 2013. Our head umpire calls a mandatory meeting before the games. This does not make me happy as I have to rush home and get ready to be there on time. When I show up,theres nobody there! After mulling over my options I’m feeling greeted by a pack of umpires. After complaining that they are all late, we mosy over to the other end of the fields. I come around the dug out and step into the field to see my entire family there! My whole family and my in laws are standing around the backstop. I glance over to the other dugout and my team is standing across from each other while crossing bats high in the air. My beautiful bride of 13 years surprised me with the most romantic renewal of vows in history! That’s right, we renewed our vows on field 7 right at home plate! Those renewals were complete with sideline chalk and dirt from the fields!! To this day it brings a smile to my face. All aspects of my life were in attendance that night. My families, my players, and my umpire family all there to support us. Home plate at field 7 will always be special to me. My bride is amazing and so is my softball family.

Some people give me a hard time for the amount of time I’m around the game. They ask how I can commit like that. I’ve had people say to me “don’t you want to have a life?” These are people that play the game and don’t play the game. The thing is, I’ve involved my family into the game. My family is my life. So the answer to that question is “I have a life” I choose to give back to the game that has given so much to me by being involved as much as I can. My oldest daughter starts playing this year. My oldest son will start umpping next year. As far as the amount of time goes, it does get to be a lot. At times I do look forward to rain. I’ve spent my time doing far worse things with far worse people. You may play darts, pool, race cars, golf, jet ski, or whatever other activity that you enjoy. I choose to play softball. I choose to get paid (umpire) for being around the game I love. I choose to take as much from the game as I can and use those lessons in my everyday life. While I respect those rec players out there, I urge them to try and get more from the game. The game of softball offers so much and it’s a shame that more don’t take advantage of it.

My summers are full of funny tan lines and long car drives. Long car drives are full of conversations of tournaments past. My summer is my bride in a chair with a mouthful of seeds and flip flops. My kids with wicked sunburns and dirty feet. My summer is shaking off the dry dirt on my sweaty socks. It’s about my hat shrinking in late June. It’s about playing catch with my kids before mine, or their game. My summer is about playing “2 bats” with 3 teammates in between games. It’s about staring aimlessly at the bracket trying to predict the future while telling people not to look too far ahead. It’s about going to the bathroom with a cup on. My summer is about watching my oldest do the coin flip before every game. It’s about my daughters hugging me after a tough loss. It’s about my bride on the fence cheering me on as I step to the plate. It’s about the “ooos” and “ahhs” as I stretch from my first base bag to dig out a ball. My summer is full of cheap hotel rooms. It’s full of sunshine and sunburn lotion. Long days and longer nights is what my summer is about. It’s about family, friends, and ball.

At some point I won’t physically be able to play the game. Some say I’ve already reached that point. At that point I will umpire only. Eventually I will reach the point of not being able to do that either. I hope that time is a few decades away. It’s inevitable though. I hope I’ve done a good enough job with my kids that they share the love of the game. I hope to be standing at the fence giving my kids pointers when I’m older and have more grays. I hope to see a last name on a jersey of a kid and say “Hey! Was your dad such and such” and be able to tell him stories of all the great things his dad did. I hope this gets into the hands of a player who realizes he or she is wasting their talents and get involved more. I hope that someone reads this and decides that umpiring isn’t all that bad and dons the powder blue. I hope that I can do the game of ASA softball justice.

I’m proud to slip my jersey/polo on every day. I’m proud of the things I’ve done on the field. I’m proud that my family is right there with me. I thank the game for giving me the things it has. I’m thankful to the umpires that have shared their knowledge with me. I’m thankful to the players for sharing all these experiences with me. I’m thankful to the game of ASA softball. My family thanks you all. How do you give back to a game that has given me so much? I’m not real sure to be honest, but I’ll spend each summer for as long as I possibly can trying to figure out that very answer.

Positive In-Law

As a society we tend to focus on the negative things. We complain about everything from work to politics. We criticize athletes and coaches instead of celebrate their success. We stand outside in -30 weather making a bad decision and gripe about our employer not “hooking us up”. We drive 10-15 mph over the speed limit and we complain about our local law enforcement literally protecting us.  Bellyaching has become a norm in our society. Someone does something good and we are immediately drawn back to what they’ve done wrong. This is not going to be one of those times. No disrespect to you or yours but my father in law is better than yours.

My father in law is the exact opposite of me. This man can fix anything with anything. Literally I’ve seen him build a functioning vehicle with nothing but duct tape and gum. (I may embellish but you get the point) Where as I have to have friends, family, and my bride fix things for me. The tools in my house are as follows : A small hammer with butterflies wrapped around the handle. You can take the claw off and inside the handle are screwdriver tips for the interchangeable screwdriver at the bottom. My idea of fixing something is calling someone to do it for me. My father in law is usually that someone.

On a Sunday afternoon in the fall and winter you can catch me in one spot and one spot only, my couch. Anyone that knows me knows that football is a big part of my life. My father in law would rather watch a race as opposed to the game. Here is another example of how we are opposite. He loves racing. It’s a big part of his life. He often talks about spending time with his wife and father at the track. From Daytona to the local speedway, the man loves it. To each their own. Personally, I don’t understand it. I’ve tried and just can’t get it. I digress though. The point is that we have opposites.

Even with the opposites and the complete different skill sets, we get along like lifelong friends. He is more of a friend or brother to me than a father in law. Neither one of us drink alcohol. So when we go “have 1” it’s to DQ for a blizzard. I know his favorite and vice versa. This time is just us hanging out. No kids, no wives, just me and my favorite father in law hanging out.

Truth be told, I generally don’t like hanging out with him. I leave with sore cheeks, a gut ache, and more often than not, a headache. From those symptoms you’d think he beats me. He does not. Those “pains” are from laughing. So while you may loathe going to your in laws, I look forward to seeing mine. He’s uncommonly supportive. He attends all my kids events. He goes to a few of my softball games. Every once in a while, he will just swing by and hand me a blizzard. We often head to Target Field with my boys, and our wives. It’s our summer tradition.

These are just small examples of how supportive he is. To give you a better idea is he time he made my family look fast. How does one make someone look fast? Excellent question. My bride, my boys and I participated in a 5k on Thanksgiving morning. Both my father in law and mother in law drove to check points in the run. They were there with video cameras and words of encouragement. He would later edit his footage and drop some Rocky music behind it. He made my 30 minute 5k look like a 5 minute masterpiece. Making something that bad, look that good is not easy work. Again, he goes the extra mile.

Eventually my kids will get married. At some point I will be a father in-law as well. I only hope I’m smart enough to follow the blue print he has given me. Not everyone can be a good father in law. I like to think I will be. I like to think he’s made a big enough impression on me that I will be. I only hope that my future son/daughter in laws like ice cream as much as we do.