The Edge of the Bed
It's so easy to dwell on the moments in your life that simply devastate you. What's harder is to grasp the importance of the routine excitement that makes you the person that you are.
The NCAA Tourney has been a lot of fun for our family. We all filled out our brackets and even drew team names out of a hat. A daily discussion of games starts with the schedule and Sam is the clone of the geek that I've always been. His sheets are scattered all over with a lot of red marks on them.
"We should hang this one on the 'fridge," Sam said, pointing to a horrific bracket that I filled out.
Last night was to be a special night. Now, of course, I can remember Friday nights where I felt guilty for all sorts of things, but last night the only thing that made me feel remorse was the bowl of peanut butter cup chocolate ice cream that I crumpled a brownie into.
After another rough work week and a bout with the stomach flu, I settled in to watch the early games, as Sam chirped through each and every scenario. Unfortunately, the games were horrific.
The 2nd games started around ten and beforehand, Sam and I figured out that out of 157 people just four of us had not picked Ohio State to win. (I know Pops, you were one of the 4 as well). So, we had something to shoot for.
As much as I wanted to watch the entire game on the big screen, I headed to my room at the half. Sam was a little disappointed, but he was fighting sleep as well.
"Will you watch it all?" he asked as I hit the stairs.
"Maybe, but if I don't, I'll talk to you about it in the morning."
The game was a classic. Despite wanting to sleep, I was wide awake as time dwindled. Outside of my closed door, I heard movement. I knew it was Sam sitting out there, wondering if I was asleep. I purposely cleared my throat. He whispered.
"You watching?"
"Come on in," I said.
I thought of my Dad calling me in to watch the end of a Sabres Playoff game in 1975. Dad didn't give two shits about hockey, but I perched on the end of the bed as the Sabres lost a double overtime game. I recall being heartbroken, but I remember that night now because of where I sat and how we talked during the game.
Sam sat on the edge of my bed as the team we were rooting for, Kentucky, attempted a last-second shot.
It went in.
Sam and I stayed up for another twenty minutes.
We talked scenarios for the weekend games. We laughed at all the other goofy bastards that went with Ohio State. I was nearly full on asleep by the time he hit the door to exit the room.
"I'm too excited to sleep," Sam announced.
I thought of my Dad, and the love that's always been in my life, in one form or another, and about how, at the end of every hard-earned day that I'm truly a blessed man.
And then I laughed.
All those stupid bastards picked Ohio State.
The NCAA Tourney has been a lot of fun for our family. We all filled out our brackets and even drew team names out of a hat. A daily discussion of games starts with the schedule and Sam is the clone of the geek that I've always been. His sheets are scattered all over with a lot of red marks on them.
"We should hang this one on the 'fridge," Sam said, pointing to a horrific bracket that I filled out.
Last night was to be a special night. Now, of course, I can remember Friday nights where I felt guilty for all sorts of things, but last night the only thing that made me feel remorse was the bowl of peanut butter cup chocolate ice cream that I crumpled a brownie into.
After another rough work week and a bout with the stomach flu, I settled in to watch the early games, as Sam chirped through each and every scenario. Unfortunately, the games were horrific.
The 2nd games started around ten and beforehand, Sam and I figured out that out of 157 people just four of us had not picked Ohio State to win. (I know Pops, you were one of the 4 as well). So, we had something to shoot for.
As much as I wanted to watch the entire game on the big screen, I headed to my room at the half. Sam was a little disappointed, but he was fighting sleep as well.
"Will you watch it all?" he asked as I hit the stairs.
"Maybe, but if I don't, I'll talk to you about it in the morning."
The game was a classic. Despite wanting to sleep, I was wide awake as time dwindled. Outside of my closed door, I heard movement. I knew it was Sam sitting out there, wondering if I was asleep. I purposely cleared my throat. He whispered.
"You watching?"
"Come on in," I said.
I thought of my Dad calling me in to watch the end of a Sabres Playoff game in 1975. Dad didn't give two shits about hockey, but I perched on the end of the bed as the Sabres lost a double overtime game. I recall being heartbroken, but I remember that night now because of where I sat and how we talked during the game.
Sam sat on the edge of my bed as the team we were rooting for, Kentucky, attempted a last-second shot.
It went in.
Sam and I stayed up for another twenty minutes.
We talked scenarios for the weekend games. We laughed at all the other goofy bastards that went with Ohio State. I was nearly full on asleep by the time he hit the door to exit the room.
"I'm too excited to sleep," Sam announced.
I thought of my Dad, and the love that's always been in my life, in one form or another, and about how, at the end of every hard-earned day that I'm truly a blessed man.
And then I laughed.
All those stupid bastards picked Ohio State.
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