On This Day In History

On this day, sixteen years ago, I married my first wife.

Yes, we were married on the Day of the Dead. And, yes, it turned out to be a prophetic, ominous sign for the duration -- or lack thereof -- of our marriage. 

Her name was Kerri. She was this wide-eyed, curly haired cutie with an infectious smile and sharp, intelligent wit. We were your typical on-again, off-again high school sweethearts mixed in a large circle of friends who fumbled from one person to another trying to figure out which fit best. (Like shopping for jeans, but with relationships.) For whatever reason, we decided on each other. 

Probably had something to do with her ahead-of-its-time-peach-emoji-defining-bubble-butt ass. #mykryponite 

Our marriage was shorter than Ariana Grande and Pete Davidson's engagement. And that's saying something. Looking back, I know without a doubt that she loved me. And it wasn't that sloppy, youthful, "you belong to me" kind of love. It was mature, faithful and unselfish. It was the "I got your back no matter what" kind of love. It was impressive, really.

Guess her emotional maturity was as futuristic as her ass. 

But I wasn't a good partner, dear readers. Terrible, in fact. I was too young, insecure, testosterone-filled (read: horny) and stupid to understand it. I was really too much of an emotional infant to understand what love was -- in even the most general terms -- when I was with her. After all, men do mature slower than women. 

Some even slower than that...

I'm not sharing this today because I would change anything about the relationship...or my life since. Because I wouldn't -- not even my near death accident. Reflecting and recognizing episodes from the past doesn't mean you want to relive them, dear readers. It just makes you mindful of where you came from. I walked away from Kerri for a girl I would later have a son with -- the greatest gift in my life -- and, from what I've heard, she married and started a family of her own. My guess is she feels the exact same way about her children as I do and I wouldn't change the journey that brought Declan to me for anything. 

ANYTHING. 

I'm sharing this today for three reasons. First, catharsis. Writing is my purgative drug. 

The second reason -- even though she'll never read this -- is to thank Kerri. (In fact, knowing she'll never see this makes writing it that much easier.) Thanks, Ker. Thanks for teaching me what love was in the past, allowing me to apply it to my son and his mother in the present. #adulting 

The third reason is to have a reason to write. I really want to get back into the habit of writing more and sometimes the only way to do that is by sitting down to write and seeing what comes out.

What came out today just happened to involve slaying some old demons. 

Day of the dead, indeed.

Stormborn

Listen, there is a serious issue that needs to be addressed...and it needs to be addressed now. There's nothing gained by trying to put this delicately so I'm just going to come out and say it:  Daenerys Targaryn is a terrbile mother. 

Terrible. 

Like...the worst. 

I swear it by the old gods and the new.

I'm not trying to speak out of turn or anything, dear readers. I'm really not. I mean, I've never given birth to three dragons by getting naked with their eggs and jumping into a fire. 

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As a rule, I don't get naked and jump into fires. My hairpants would erupt near an open flame and I'd never recover. 

Never.

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And I'm certainly not trying to offend Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryn, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, and the Breaker of Chains or anything. 

That would be just plain stupid.

But, as a parent myself, I think I can point out some areas of opportunity for Ms. Stormborn to make improvements. 

I mean, using her children to intimidate others probably doesn't set the best example. Chaining 2 of them up in a dungeon as punishement when the third runs away for awhile feels more like displacement than parenting. Demanding they kill people with fire on command but then get upset when they kill other people with un-commanded fire is the definition of hypocricy. Or, worse yet, letting others abuse them then demand they fly her to safety with not even so much as a raven to the maester or quick stop by the Citadel's emergency room for a check-up.

LaVar Ball wouldn't even do medieval shit like that.

Now, admittedly, my opinion on this next matter is more of a theoretical anecdote than one based on practical experience because I've never mounted a fire-breathing dragon and flown it beyond the Wall to save my nephew and his warrior friends from the undead. 

I get that. 

It just seems to me that if you are flying into a fight beyond the Wall on one of your children with his dragon brothers at your side than it makes more sense to collectively attack the leader of the undead enemy horde before attacking the undead soldiers themselves. 

Feels like basic wartime parenting knowledge to me.

At the end of day, I understand parenting isn't an exact science. All parents make mistakes here-and-there allowing room for growth and improvement. I'm not demanding perfection out of Dany or anything. 

I'm not.

I'm just asking her to shift her priorities a little bit. If she wasn't sooo concerned with her outfits, titles, hair braids and what chair she wants to sit on and more with the well-being of her kiddos, maybe --  just maybe -- her son Viserion would still be alive.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I could do a better job under the same circumstances. But I'm not NOT saying it either.

What I am saying is, at the very least, someone needs to send a raven to the Westeros DCYF or something so they can, you know, monitor the situation and keep an eye on things. 

Even if it's a third eye. 

Time Will Show

The floodgates are opening, dear readers. I received my 3rd official piece of fan mail in as many days -- and I haven't even been blogging lately! 

That all changes today because of the sage advice I received from Ms. Natalia (or is it Natali?). 

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Hello, my friend! I assume you remember me? We got acquainted in one of social networks. I didn't keep you awaiting too long. I am Natali. I am 29 y.o..

I love you write. My data is in my profile, you like photos? I assume you didn't forget me and you have a desire to communication. I will post my photos in the next mail.

I assume you remember how I look like and assume you will be fond of me. Tell me more about you.

What are you like as a person? What traits do you have? It seems to me that you are a humane, honest, genuine person with great skills on a computer.

Are you still free? I would like to warn you if you look for flirt, correspondence or photo exchange, our interests are dissimilar. 

I would like genuine and deserving relationship. If you are married or look for sex, it is not for me. I am sorry for late feedback. 

I don't have an intention to intrude myself, it is your resolution. Anyway I will await your feedback to go on our communication in Freeport in the nearest future. 

Time will show. We need to learn each other better and develop our conversation. 

Natalia

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Thank you for "loving my write" and giving me inspiration, Natalia. You've helped me realize I need to find the time and make "write" a priority in my life again so we can "learn each other better and develop our conversation."

And I would never "look for flirt," Natalia. 

Never.

Gratefully, 
sportsandthoughts

Quick Thinking: Spirit-ism

Spirit Week is coming to an end for my son's first grade class, dear readers. A week filled with pajamas days and field days and favorite animal "presentation" days comes to an end with the day he was looking forward to the most: dress up as your favorite fictional character day.

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Declan's favorite animal is the Elf Owl, by the way. He learned Elf Owls are miniature versions of the species who can be found living in warmer, dryer climates. Most build homes in or around cactus for protection from predators and the elements. 

I tried to convince him some Elf Owls had long blond hair, a quiver on their back and crazy bow skills with the combat ability to single-handedly defeat a Mumakil on the battlefield. (Yes, that's a super nerdy Lord of the Rings reference.)

He didn't believe me.

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True to form, Declan picked one of Marvel's superheroes as his favorite fictional character. But he didn't pick Iron Man. He didn't pick Captain America. He didn't pick Hawkeye. (who would right?) You know who he picked, dear readers? He picked Black Panther. 

That's right.

Black. Panther.

A young "white boy" who enjoys watching NASCAR and riding gas powered four wheelers picked Black Panther as the superhero he wanted to emulate. 

The implications can not be understated. 

We ARE making progress, y'all. The world we live in today is far more diverse than any before. And that diversity is being embraced by some. 

The tragedy, of course, is it also proves that racism is learned. It's taught by society. And his youthful color blindness will be challenged as he grows up in a society too focused on the things that make us different -- like the color of our skin. 

I'm super proud of my son's choice. And of him for choosing it on his own. I hope his spirit of seeing merit in people -- fictional or not -- continues to be color blind. 

I know mine does.

Because I LOVE Black Widow. 

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Quick Thinking
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-- The Red Sox 10-2 start is a historic best for the franchise.

-- But like I told all my high school girlfriends: it's not how you start, it's how you finish.

-- Speaking of the Red Sox, did anyone see the two bench clearing brawls they had a few nights ago with the rival New York Yankees?

-- The boys of summer, indeed.

-- Always makes me wish baseball's "unwritten rules" included only WWF style wrestling moves were allowed when there is a fight.

-- Seeing a Macho Man style elbow, drop kick or suplex would be better than all those arm-flailing-no-punches-really-landed tussles we usually bear witness to.

-- OH, YEAH!

-- Except, there was that one time... 

-- A recent happy hour session with some colleagues resulted in a risque Q&A about those with menage a trios experience. My response when the question landed on my lap earned me the Quote of the Week: "Does a dog and peanut butter count?"

-- Good dog.

-- Speaking of animals, if reincarnation is a thing I want to come back as a flying bird.

-- Any flying bird.

-- Think about it. Birds can fly, have amazing eyesight, get houses and restaurants built and hung in trees for them by human strangers who want to "watch" them, have good golf scores named after them, never go bald and get to shit literally on anything or anyone they want.

-- No wonder they're always singing and chirping.

#birdsarechirpin

-- Actually, who am I kidding?

-- I never had any girlfriends in high school.

Revisionist History

Life advice comes in many forms, dear readers.

Here comes mine.

As I age, I don't "feel" any older. I truly don't. Other than my hairline not being what it once was, *shoulder shrug emoji* my body and mind have never been sharper. Ever. My diet, workout and life routine are simply the healthiest they've ever been. I'm literally in the best shape of my life. Sure, my body has random aches and pains -- but that's nothing new. I've been dealing with that since I came out of my coma back in 2004.

What I do feel, however, is the constant desire to remove anything superfluous from my life. Social media? Removed myself from all outlets over a year ago. Same old social life activities? I avoid them entirely and focus on more important things: like my job and my son. Alcohol and recreational drugs? If I have a few drinks once in a month that's a lot these days. I'm not in my 20's or 30's anymore. Those behaviors died long ago in a past life I don't even really recognize. Like a movie I don't remember seeing. Drama-filled family quarrels? Non-existent. I simply don't put myself in situations where those may result. And, if I sense one coming, I leave without a word...just disappear.

#irishgoodbye

What I've gained as I trim those unnecessary distractions from my life is clarity. Clarity about who I am, what's important and what isn't, who my real friends and positive influences are, what I value and, most importantly, who I want to be. And with clarity comes a whole bunch of security in myself and the decisions I'm making. But what it doesn't come with is consensus from other's that I am, in fact, living well and living happy.

I've written many times in the past that "people in life don't see a person as what they are." And they don't. People see a person as what they are in relation to their life. Perception trumps reality at every turn. If someone's perception of you is from who you were 10 years ago, than that's who you are to them: then, now and always.

Don't believe me? Ever hear a mother or father say about their adult son or daughter, "they'll always be a baby in my eyes."

Same thing.

So, as I live a better life filled with higher standards of accountability for my actions and behaviors -- resulting in some people having to be removed from my life entirely -- there's pushback. Lots of pushback. There's disbelief. There's eye rolls. Eventually, there's "fuck you's" and questions like "do you think you're better than me now or something?"

The answer, of course, is I am better than you. And not in a value proposition kind of way. I'm better because I'm questioning myself and trying to improve who I am and how I interact with the world around me. I'm trying to make the next 40 years of my life better than the previous 40.

My ultimate hope is that I'm a casualty of the same mindset from others in my past. We all need to be better. And we can't all get better unless we start with ourselves.

Cue the Michael Jackson music.

The real wonder in all of this is how those who are truly insignificant feel they have some quantifiable value. It's really quite startling. Try it and you'll see. Once you begin to distance yourself from some people in your life, especially those you didn't have much of a meaningful interaction with anyway, turn out to be the most angry about it. Why are they the most angry? Because, like I said, their perception of you and the relationship -- in whatever capacity -- was very different from the reality.

It's a strange social commentary, indeed.

Now I'm not saying to dissolve all relationships in your life, dear readers. What I'm saying is start looking around you and make sure you're surrounded by people who bring out the best in you and want the best for you. Period. End of sentence. If you're holding yourself to higher standards, surround yourself with people that applaud that effort instead of condemning it as folly. I've been approaching my life this way for the past year or so and I've never been more content.

I'd recommend you do the same.

Quick Thinking: Flat Circle

I return to my blogging career* the same way I entered it back in 2008: following the New England Patriots losing to an NFC East team they were expected to beat in a Super Bowl.

Looks like my man Nietzsche was right when he said time is, indeed, a flat circle.

Or was it Rusty Cohle?

#eternalrecurrence

My return doesn't simply come after a frustrating loss, dear readers. It comes amidst turmoil and apprehension surrounding the future of the New England franchise. 

There are countless questions swirling: Why did the Patriots trade Jimmy G for such a low-value pick early this season when they went great lengths to keep him previously? Was there pressure from ownership to do so? Is there any truth to the Seth Wickersham story? Why didn't Malcolm Butler play one defensive snap in the Super Bowl after playing 100% of the defensive snaps the previous two playoff games? Was Tom Brady's publicized tweet simply a show of support for his (former) teammate? Or was he picking sides against his (current) head coach? Why did offensive coordinator Jeff McDaniel's abruptly resign from the Indianapolis Colts a mere 3 hours before the scheduled press conference to announce him as the team's new head coach?

And the biggest question of all: Will the greatest coach of all time, Mr. Bill Belichick, be the coach of the New England Patriots next year? If the past few days are any indication, the reality is he probably won't be. I mean, does Bill Belichick seem like the type of guy to be a "lame duck" head coach while his successor is clearly being wooed by the franchise? 

And if you don't think McDaniel's is the "next man up", why else would McDaniel's stay? And is McDaniel's really the answer? He failed in Denver. (He drafted Tim Tebow!) He failed even worse in St. Louis with the Rams before crawling back to New England. 

All his successes can be tied to one man: Tom Brady. And, avocado ice cream aside, how much does time does Tom Brady really have left? 2 years? Maybe?  Then what? Rebuild the team around a strong young quarterback they don't have anymore because they traded him away?

Like I said, questions on questions on questions... No matter the answers, it feels like the fairy tale ride in Patriot Nation seems to be coming to an end, y'all. 

Please unbuckle your seatbelt and follow the exit signs to the left.

Hope you enjoyed the ride.

*career is a loose term here. Lately, it's really just a hobby...and a half-hearted one at that.

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Quick Thinking
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-- Josh McDaniels leaving the Colts at the alter is one of the greatest slowplay revenge moves of all time. #deflategate #defendthewall

-- Second only to Andy Dufresne's scheme at Shawshank.

-- Netflix's new documentary series Dirty Money is further proof that big business view individuals in society as nothing more than dollar signs, distractions and lemmings.

-- It's also shows how they lie with impunity.

-- And it's the scariest reality show I've ever seen.

-- Other than Keeping Up with the Kardashians, of course.

-- Who knew the best coverage Belichick would have near him all day was the black-and-white leather pants Kat & Ashley (his girlfriend's twin daughters) were wearing as they walked into the stadium.

-- Shout out to @thehesstwins!



-- Speaking of Belichick, seems he forgot to practice what he's usually preaching to his players during Sunday's disappointing Super Bowl.

-- Pride comes before the fall and all that.

-- The saying still looks good on all those t-shirts in Gillette Stadium's Pro Shop, though.

-- Do.

-- Your.

-- Job.