Do I Still "Have It" As A Dad?
Posted: Thursday, June 28, 2007
by James Carrick
I remember a time when my boys looked up to me and thought I was the greatest Dad ever. They marveled at my abundant knowledge and were impressed by my feats of strength as I lifted a push lawn mower into the bed of my truck to work on it or would twist the cap off of a jar of dill pickles with virtually no effort whatsoever. Now it seems they’re not quite as impressed with me as they used to be. My eldest son, Jimmy, will be turning seventeen soon and my youngest son, Ryan, will be thirteen shortly after that. Ahhh yes, there will be two teenagers in the house. Yippee!
“What’s up, yo?" I say in my coolest young people lingo.
“Dad, please," he says with a hint of sarcastic embarrassment.
“How about playing some one-on-one with your old man?"
Jimmy looks at me and sighs deeply. “Sure, I guess," he says with the enthusiasm of a man going to the gallows. He waits patiently as I stretch my legs. I wouldn’t want to pull any muscles.
“You can have the ball first," I say diplomatically. I check the ball to him. Now is the time to talk a little trash.
“Come on, let’s see what you got," I tease as I get into my “guard" position. I squat low, arms out, dancing on the balls of my feet. I can’t wait for him to see how I shut him down. Jimmy approaches cautiously, as well he should because I’m feeling it, baby! He dribbles the ball, switching from his right hand to his left hand and back again. He feints to his left, but I’m there! Then, rather quickly, he dribbles between his legs while again going to his left. I move to block. Then the ball, which now seems to be moving in a blur of motion, goes back between his legs as he goes right. Again, I move to block, but as I do Jimmy crosses the ball back to his left and….POOF! He’s gone!
I turn in time to see the ball drop through the net and fall gracefully into Jimmy’s hands. Okay, so my defense needs some work. Now I can put on a display of my basketball handling skills. Jimmy checks the ball to me and I start dribbling. I turn and use my larger size to back him down, pushing my left hip into him as he tries to hold his ground. This is going to be so easy. I charge to my right, stop, and then go left again. But there’s Jimmy right in front of me. Okay, I’ll just do a cross over from my right to my left hand and drive right by him. But the ball never makes it to my left hand because Jimmy stole it from me, took it back out, turned and drove toward the basket at the speed of sound, flying by me as I feebly tried to block his shot and watched the ball sail into the basket. Again I get the ball. I dribble aggressively toward him and spin to my right…but the ball bounces off my leg and rolls harmlessly away.
“Out on you," Jimmy shouts.
And so it goes for the next ten minutes. I do manage to make a few shots but I can’t celebrate too much because I’m sucking wind like a Hoover vacuum cleaner and I may have pulled something in my back…perhaps my spleen! Jimmy stands looking at me, barely breathing hard as I wonder why my lungs have shrunk to the size of thimbles.
“You… (gasp)… had enough… (cough)…for (hack)…today?" I say.
“Uhhh…yea, Dad," he says with concern. “Maybe you should lie down or, like, get something to drink or call an ambulance!"
Funny kid! Great sense of humor! I’ll find a reason to ground him later. I trudge into the house and see my son, Ryan. Maybe he wants to do something with his dear old Dad.
“Hey Ry, you want to…"
“No"
Okay. Then my precious seven year old, Katie, walks up to me. She’s holding one of her dolls in one hand, and its head in the other.
“Can you fix her, Daddy?" she asks.
I take the doll and its head and twist it back on to her body. “Good as new," I say.
She hugs me. “Thank you, Daddy," she says with adoration in her eyes.
You see, I still got it!
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Top-level comments on this article: (1 total)This was great, James! For the record, I remember the time period between 15 through 18 when I really didn't think my parents 'knew anything' and, actually, when I was grounded I had to go to the movies with them because they knew how embarrassed I would be (and I was - actually in 11th grade I saw a lo-o-ot of movies...smile) But just so you know, James, after that my mom was actually my best friend and my parents really could do anything!Thank you, Judi. I know that my kids won't appreciate us until they are out on there own. I never saw what kind of sacrafices my parents made until I was out on my own. There came a point where I said, "Damn, they were right all along!" Now I just have to endure until then.
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