Priorities

So, this morning I was a little uptight and I won’t blame you if you surmise my source of anxiety arose from a shallow place.

After an early start to clean up some things at the office, I needed to share a call with the rep from an employment service with caviar fees and zero Registered Dental Hygienist candidates. I was on a mission to get back home for an AT&T guy who would hopefully deliver me from the evil that would be coming outta my mouth if I had to miss the Dodger-Giants series and the opening game of the USC Trojan Football year.

And I guess there are times when I don’t realize how important Athletics is in keeping me mentally healthy, at least in my own mind. But I doubt it. And man, I am so freakin’ glad my dad and big brother gave me the chance to embrace the competitive realm of the Toy Department called Sports.

On my way back to Pasadena, I was tuned into 710 KSPN AM (what else?) when a topic emerged that made the drive go by a little too quickly. The two sports talk hosts began trading places, discussing the first time the result of a game had actually hurt. Turns out, after the first experience, many more followed.

So, I’ve lived through a few self-perceived sports tragedies in my day. In 1986, Dad’s and my Angels came within a single pitch of going to the World Series for the first time. And I was there, seated at the south end of the Rose Bowl when, in the final seconds, USC lost the BCS Championship after winning 34-straight. The game is widely regarded as the best college football championship game of all time…unless you grew up living a few blocks away from campus and you’d worn Trojan gear since you could barely walk…thanks to your big brother.

My dad and brother were my official coaches up until high school. And every morning I’m grateful for my having had the most awesome childhood a kid could have.

When I was 19-years old and trying to figure out Organic Chemistry, I got the call that told me my brother had died. Almost 8-years later, I was there for Dad’s fatal heart attack in our living room three months into my new dental practice. I really don’t think I’ve ever been the same. For numerous reasons, my team members will probably tell you some serious counseling would have probably helped.

And for the last 18-months or so, I’ve really missed my two coaches. I’ve really needed their help in finding some light.

For me, it’s still all about family. My caring so much about sports and how 20-year-old kids in helmets occupy a fall Saturday afternoon can undoubtedly seem trivial or shallow. But the time spent keeps me connected to Dad and my brother, Jay; when they were around, I always felt safe.

So, no hate please, when I confess to being a diehard Giants fan…just like my big brother. With Jay and Willie Mays on the same team, the Dodgers never really had a chance. And just like in life, the losses are opportunities for breakthroughs. I never saw Willie close up…until 1993, when the Dodgers knocked the Giants out of the playoffs, winning 12-1. I had no idea Mays was sitting near the Giant dugout on the same aisle. When he left after 7-innings, he received a standing ovation from everyone, including me. And say hey, I was a lot younger then. From my seat on the aisle, I let loose a “Love ya Willie! Nothing wrong about being a kid again…for as long as possible.

My first sports gut punch ever? I was 12 years old when UCLA beat the Trojans by scoring TWO touchdowns in the final seconds, following a fumble recovery near the Bruin goal line and a successful on sides kick. The loss kept the Trojans out of the Rose Bowl. Without hesitation, I announced my resignation from USC Trojan Football, for life. Didn’t even want to go to school. I’d had enough.

Tomorrow’s USC kick-off is slated for 2 PM at the Coliseum. After a few more booster shots, I’ll be there in person. But thanks to an AT&T visit (by a technician wearing a Dodger cap), I’ll be watching the game from the couch and my Peloton. Hope I don’t scare the neighbors.

Fight on.