Matt is 30!

Insane.

My Dad tried to explain to me that life passes in what seems like a blink of an eye.

I have said the same thing to my boys about a hundred times now.

Matt turned 30 years old today.

Blink of an eye?

It’s absurd!

We used to play video games back when he was about three years old. He would beat me in basketball and it would irritate me to no end because he was finding the shooter every time down the floor.

Back then, there weren’t any faces on the players. It was just a little shape with their name underneath.

“How do you keep getting the ball to Jordan?” I screamed.

He pointed to the name.

“You can’t read!”

And Matt was always the smartest kind around here. Except when he walked into walls, or forgot to chew, or tripped over something.

He was also the most sensitive and cautious, or should I say, wimpy.

He once took an aspirin and a cold tablet and thought it would kill him. He was in tears, wondering if he had overdosed.

He was about 18 at the time.

And now, he’s thirty and preparing to get married to a lovely girl.

Blink.

He’s found success at work, and he’s managed to keep himself upright and fed.

He’s still extremely dopey when it comes to rooting for sports teams (the Oakland A’s for God’s sake) but I recall that moment when he was dressed in Yankees gear and standing in front of Red Sox star David Ortiz.

“You want an autograph?” Ortiz asked.

Matt turned to look at me, afraid to answer the huge star standing in front of him.

Ortiz smiled, bent down, picked up a ball and signed it.

“There,” Ortiz said. “Now your Dad can’t hate me.”

Matt took the ball.

“He still does,” he said.

Both me and Ortiz laughed.

That feels like it was ten minutes ago!

Happy Birthday, you dopey bastard.

We love you.

We’re proud of the man you became.