Coachdad

Feeling good about being 40

2011-04-08T18:45:00.000-07:00

On most birthdays, I am reflective. I look back on the past year and find fault in nearly everything I have done and promise not to make the same mistakes.

Not this year.

I turned 40 yesterday and it was undoubtedly the best birthday I have had as an adult. Instead of reflecting, I sat back and enjoyed my day at work, enjoyed my four daughters, and had found great peace in the time that I spent with Jen.

It couldn't have gone any better. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I am truly happy. I have everything that I could possibly want at this time in my life.

Despite major budget concerns, I still have a great job. I have great kids that still drive me nuts, however, I wouldn't want it any other way. And, I have a meaningful, loving relationship with a woman who allows me to be me.

As great as all those things are, the most important aspect of my happiness falls directly on the fact that I am content and happy with myself as a person. There is no better feeling to have.

I recently ran into a friend who used to read my blog when I posted on a regular basis and he ended our conversation with a question. His question was simply, "Coach, why don't you blog anymore? You used to write all the time and I really enjoyed your shit."

Seems like an easy enough question to answer, however, I was stumped. It is isn't because I am too busy with work or being a single father. I probably have more free time than ever since I stepped down as my school's head football coach in December.

The answer came as I was driving home and it was answer that I hadn't expected. Simply put, I don't post as much now because I no longer need the affirmation that I received from the readers with their comments and emails after I finished a post.

When I started blogging, I was in a relationship with a woman that I loved dearly. However, the relationship was unfulfilling for us both as we never seemed able to find time for each other. There were other issues, however, it came down to the simple fact that neither of us were truly getting what we wanted or needed in a relationship.

Also during the start of my blogging experience, the constant losing in football made others and myself constantly questioning my ability as a coach and left me miserable more times than not. It was ugly for me in every sense of the word, as my feelings of self-worth centered around what we did on the football field and how people thought of me as a coach.

While myself and a lot of the other people ridiculed me on a daily basis on my team's performances, people who read my blog had no problem complimenting my writing and complimenting me as a father, and with it, I felt good about myself again.

I fed off the comments and would run to the computer at all times of the day, hoping someone left me a comment. It felt good to feel good again about something I was doing.

Two years later, I don't need any one else to make me feel good about myself. All I need to do is look at the relationships I have with my kids, my students, my co-workers, and with Jen, and that is all the affirmation I need now.

If there is anything that I would like to change from yesterday to my next birthday, it is this: I want to blog again on a consistent basis. This time around, I am going to blog because I enjoy writing and I enjoyed getting to know so many of you who I would still consider friends.

Hell... this time around, you don't even have to leave me a comment.

Giving the bird to Mother Nature

2011-01-02T21:10:00.000-08:00

Dear Mother Nature,

Let me to take a minute to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. You picked the day before my girls were to go back to school to blanket my Southern California desert town with snow. Thank you so much for that. I was so looking forward to driving them to school, opening the passenger door, throwing them out, and heading home for a day of quiet and doing nothing. But, no. At 8 p.m., the school called with an automated message confirming my fears that there would be no school. And, with the way California schools react to the oddity of snow, they will more than likely cancel school again Tuesday. I cannot wait to have them come in and out of the house all day long, bringing with them wet clothes, snowballs, every kid on the block, and requests for hot chocolate. Ahh, and to do it on a day that I already had off. You couldn't wait till next Monday, the first day I was to be back in the classroom. Nope, you decide to really mess with me. So, thank you. Thank you very much you selfish bitch.

Sincerely,

Coachdad

Finding perspective just in time

2010-12-24T00:41:00.001-08:00

It's time to start writing again. It has been too long.

A lot has happened since I last posted with any regularity. Life changing events that I may or may not get into at a later date. What I will say is that I am glad to be back.

It has been too long.

Christmas is tomorrow and I couldn't be happier. All four of my daughters, my brother and sister-in-law, two of Jen's kids, and her sister and mother will all be at my house for dinner tonight. Jen and I no doubt will be going nuts with all the company, yet, neither of us would have it any other way.

The fact that Jen and her kids will be over is a huge victory for me. I almost lost her two months ago. Seems she could no longer handle my inability to handle coaching football in the no-win situation I was in.

I got so bad during this last football season that I alienated every one I worked for, with, and those who worked under me. And, in the process, I forgot those who were most important, my girls and Jen.

My girls never really complained. They continued to go to practice day after day with me and put up with my yelling at them for not leaving me alone while I coached. They did it in weather that ranged from hotter than hell in the late summer, to colder than shit in the early winter.

And, they have done it their whole lives while never complaining that my career has kept them from playing youth sports, taking piano lessons, or cheer leading for their schools with their friends. To them, me coaching football was what WE did as a family. But, it shouldn't be that way.

I should be the one in the stands watching them.

It took looking over at my girls during a practice in late October that it was time for a change. They were bundled up and huddled together while trying to do their homework. And, that change meant that Coachdad was about to be just Dad.

Ironically, a week after I made my decision to walk away from the only job I have ever wanted, Jen informed me that she would be moving out in November. I was told I allowed the job to affect me to the point that she can no longer handle being around me and that for her own sanity, she had to leave.

Thankfully, she didn't leave. I was able to convince her that the Brett that she fell in love would be back. The Brett that had perspective, that was able to put family and loved ones ahead of everything else, and the Brett that was able to make her laugh endlessly.

That Brett is still here and isn't going anywhere. And, like I said earlier, I am glad to be back.

Happy Fathers' Day, Dad!

2010-06-20T16:55:00.001-07:00

My father with my girls and !

Thank you for everything, Dad! I love you and can't thank you enough for teaching me how to be a single father. You truly are my hero!

Valentines' Day

2010-02-13T11:01:00.000-08:00

(My post from 2009... I am poet, and didn't know it. Glad to say that I am one of the ones with love.)

Those with love
Smile in the joy of having what so many of us desire
Embrace this perfect gift and remember what brought it to you
Every detail and loving gesture that lit the heart's fire
Should be continued through and through by you two

Those without love
The hope of love can be the greatest love of all
Beating inside you with what you seek out
Never compromise youself, never fall
For one day you will find love, there is no doubt

Help us all

2010-02-10T06:57:00.000-08:00

(I have been super busy with work and working on another project to write lately. So, here is an older post that relates to the weather we are currntly experiencing in Southern California.)

If you turn on the local news in Southern California the last couple of days, you would think that we were under attack.

News vans in every suburban city, residents rushing to the local Walmart to grab supplies, conversations in line at the bank yesterday centered on how long the suffering would continue, and cable/satellite and internet services flickering off and on had it's customers wondering how long it would it last.

What's going on in the land of movie stars, surgically-enhanced body parts, and just your every day quacks that reside with me in one of the most populated regions in our country?

Rain.

That's it. Fucking rain. I am embarrassed to even admit it. Rain is turning Southern California into a scene that resembles one you would find in the movie Independence Day.

It started on Thursday and has continued sporadically ever since. In my desert community, we even had some hail. I even had to pull out a jacket with a hood last night when I went to my basketball game.

Where is Barack Obama and government assistance when you need it?

Already a bitch to drive in and around Los Angeles, the weather has made local drivers even harder to handle. A trip that normally takes five minutes to take, now takes 30 minutes as drivers limp through every intersection at the first sign of rain.

Throw in the want-to-be NASCAR drivers who continue to drive 20 miles over the speed limit and you get a reported 104 accidents in Los Angeles in the first nine hours of the storm. Makes you want to just stay home and watch TV.

The news is what entertains me the most on raining days.

The first 15 minutes of the newscast is dedicated to the weather. The economy and the Senate's impending vote on the recovery plan would have to wait. Forget about getting any real news.

Thanks to TiVO, I couldn't help but continually rewind reporters interviewing residents and how they are dealing with the phenomenon of water falling from the sky. Here is my favorite:

Reporter: "How are you handling all the rain?"

LA resident: "We are trying not to go out in it. I know we need it, but it has just been so much. I am afraid to even go out and drive in it. My husband has been in the garage making sand bags just in case we need it. We just hope we can make it through the weekend."

Reporter: "Well, thank you. Good luck to you and your family."

Make it through the weekend? Are you kidding me? It's rain and according to the Los Angeles Times, LA has had a grand total 1.47 inches in two days. Reports are a new storm is supposed to hit Southern California some time Monday.

Please pray for us as we go through this tough time.

Girls will be boys?

2010-02-02T22:36:00.001-08:00

There are times as a single father that I think God is looking down at me and laughing his butt off. In so many ways, he really did play a cruel joke on me.

Four girls. Four of them. Not one little boy in the whole litter.

When I found out that I was going to be a father for the first time in 1997, I continually daydreamed of playing catch with "little Brett". Day after day, me and the little guy outside laughing it up while throwing around the pigskin.

Then, after nine months of playing out this fantasy, came Kern. A beautiful, healthy, blue-eyed girl. Disappointment was non-existent as I was thrilled to be a father. Besides, I had plenty of time to have a boy.

Then, came Savannah. Followed by Shelby, And, finally, Alani. Four girls for the football coach. There would be no more trying for the elusive boy. I was done after four.

I'd like to think that I have done a pretty good job of raising girls on my own. I do as much as any man can be expected to do to allow girls to be girls. The last thing I have wanted to do was to try and raise my girls as boys by only introducing them to what would typically be classified as "boy" stuff.

I have let them apply make-up to my face, have played Barbies with them, and have watched endless amounts of fashion shows. I have even participated in a conversation with them over who would be a better a boyfriend, Troy from the High School Musical trilogy or Jackson from the Hannah Montana television show.

I picked Troy because he was the better athlete, while they picked him because he was "cuter". Whatever.

So... Sunday morning I stood in the hallway watching my girls pretty themselves up on their own while getting ready for Church. They were facing a full-length mirror on the closet door, admiring their outfits and hairdo. It was one of the cutest things I have seen as a father.

With a great sense of pride, I continued to watch while thinking that I was actually playing a role in raising girls who would one day grow into beautiful women. I finally turned around and began to walk back to my room when Alani said something that made me stop.

"Hey Vannah," she said.

"Yea?"

"Fart on my face, then I will fart on yours. OK?"

"OK."

Damn. Looks like there is more work to be done.

Just keep swimming

2010-01-31T17:58:00.000-08:00

Sitting in a bar last weekend with some of the top high school football coaches in the country, a coach with more than 100 career wins came to my table and asked me if he could sit down and talk for a few minutes. He was one of the presenters at the clinic and said he wanted to ask me a few questions.

What the hell would he want to ask me? I have won one game in the last two years. Does he want to know how to keep a head coaching job despite not winning?

"Yea Coach, ask me anything," I said.

"First, can I buy you a beer or anything?"

"No, thank you. I am good."

"Well, I overheard you last night talking to some other coaches about how you lucked out that your kids were with your ex-wive this weekend, allowing you to come to the clinic. My wife just left me and took my three kids. She told me she is going to fight for full custody because she doesn't think I can be a single Dad with all the responsibilities that come along with coaching.

"I don't know what to do. She is right in a way... football takes so much time. I don't know how I can do it all and yet still do what it takes to be a coach. But, I can't not be around my kids. I am seriously thinking about quitting football."

I was floored. I never imagined that this is what he wanted to talk about when he sat down next to me.

I have been exactly where he is now. Five years ago and two months after my youngest daughter was born, my ex and I officially separated. At that time, I wasn't coaching football and there was no way I could have coached at that time.

I was too heartbroken, too emotional, and too overwhelmed to do anything than other than survive. In a flash, my whole life was in disarray and I saw no way to overcome the state I was in.

The only thing that got me out of bed at that time was my kids. I had no choice. They needed me to function as mininmally as I was for their own survival.

Honestly, if I was given a choice of staying and raising my kids on my own or running as far away as possible, I might have chosen the latter. I'd like to be able to say that my love for my girls made me stay. But, what really made me stay was that those little girls needed me to.

I remember so many nights leaving work, rushing over to their daycare facility to pick up a four-month-old, two-year-old, and three-year-old, running to my piece of shit two-bedroom apartment (after leaving a beautiful five-bedroom, two-story house), feeding them anything remotely healthy, bathing them all, and then finally getting them to bed. That three-hour process was much harder and exhausting than the nine hours of teaching and coaching high school kids.

The things is, I always hated when I was complimented for being a good Dad. To me, all I was doing is what I had to do. Single mothers do it all the time and never get praise for it.

Instead of throwing kudos out to those men who remain Dads and do their share of parenting after a divorce, people should look down on men who don't do it. That is something I have no empathy for... men who turn their backs on the children when the marriage falls apart.

Reliving all that, I had an answer for the Coach.

"Coach... you have to decide how important football is and how important being a dad is to you. If they both are important and are worth fighting for... then do it. My kids are at football practices, games, and team functions with me. If I am there and it is their week to be with me, then they are with me."

"You can do this Coach. You can do both. It isn't always easy, but it is better than not doing it. And, you know what? My kids love being a part of it all. They feel like they are on the team and take the losses just as hard if not harder than me. But, they wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

"Coach, this is going to sound stupid, but I have watched a million kids' movies over the last few years and one really helped me through this. You ever watch, "Finding Nemo"?

"Yea," the Coach said with a laugh.

"Remember when Dory and Nemo's Dad begin their journey looking for Nemo? Dory kept singing that song, "Just Keep Swimming". Didn't matter how far they had to go, the only way they they would get there was to keep swimming.

"Well, Coach... you may not always want to do it, but you got to keep swimming."

Done with me... Facebook Features

2010-01-20T16:26:00.000-08:00

Blah, blah, blah and more blah. That's what I see every time I read something that I wrote about me and my daily goings on.

It's getting old. Like an overplayed song you can't get away from when you turn on the radio.

I am done with it. At least I am done with me or my girls always being what I write about on my blog.

No more of me rambling on about how miserable I have been over the last two weeks while going through chemotherapy, or how I just celebrated my sixth month of sobriety, or what one of my little girls may have done to make me laugh, cry, or scream.

But, I am not done with writing.

Nope. Now, I want to write about people. People that I have known for years or who I have recently met. People with stories.

I have always been a people person. And, I am often moved by what they have gone through, overcome, or simply accomplished in our little world.

During my days as a sportswriter, I was lucky enough to cover the Los Angeles Dodgers and Angels, the Los Angeles Kings, the Los Angeles Lakers, and a Rose Bowl. Great fun and a dream come true for a someone whose life revolved around the Los Angeles' sports scene.

But, what I loved most about being a sportswriter was when I wrote feature stories about local athletes.

Stories of high school athletes like the star softball player who went to bat every time hearing the same words from her deceased father who taught her eveything about hitting before being murdered. Or, the story I wrote about a football player who set state records as a running back while serving time at the only youth detention center in the country that is allowed to compete in athletics against high schools.

Each person I encountered while writing features about them had an impact on me. In some way or another, they made me want to be a better person while giving me perspective.

So... to prevent myself from reading more of the same blah, blah, blah stuff I always spew, I end by saying that I will post my first Facebook Feature in the next couple of days.

The Facebook Feature came to me while glancing through the many so-called friends I have on Facebook and wanting to know more about these people that I have been in contact with at some point in my life. I look forward to bringing their stories to you.

When not to play with yourself

2010-01-06T12:46:00.000-08:00

A conversation I had with my doctor Monday afternoon. What your about to read made me realize that there are people more stupid than me.

Doctor: "I really think it is best if we start you on a chemotherapy right away. You have a lot more spots on your face that are cancerous and I don't want to have to keep cutting you up."

Me: "You are the doctor. I will do whatever you think is best."

Doctor: "OK, good. You will apply the ointment every day for 30 days. Your probably going to break out all over your face and it won't be pretty. But, it will kill any cancer cells we can't see."

Me: "OK... let's do it."

Doctor: "Make sure you wash your hands after you put it on your face. I had a patient last year who had a serious problem after not washing his hands."

Me: "What happened? His hands swell up?"

Doctor: "No. He decided to play with himself a little after putting the ointment on and his scrotum swelled up. It was quite embarrassing for him to have to come back in here."

Me: "Good to know, Doc. No using the ointment when I masturbate. Got it."

Break needed so I can work again

2009-12-14T22:56:00.001-08:00

To be honest, Christmas and the holiday break can't come soon enough for me. I am ready for three weeks off. Now!

The last few weeks of dealing with the loss of a dear friend and having my second surgery in two months for skin cancer has left me yearning for days of sitting on the couch with nothing to do but write. I need to get back into it. I am suffering some serious withdrawals.

It isn't this blog that I need to get back to writing on. Don't get me wrong... I love my blog. But, I need to find my muse again on something that I have always wanted to finish.

A novel.

And, up until a month ago, I was enjoying the fact that I had actually been making progress on it. Each day, I would spend an hour or two writing and everything was flowing. Most importantly, I was beginning to really like what I saw on the screen in front of me.

Then, life came at me and everything came to an abrupt stop. It doesn't look as if it is going to settle down any time soon to allow me to focus completely on my little project.

On Friday, my dermatologist took 20 stitches out of my forehead and informed me that in January he would like to start me on chemotherapy treatment. Fortunately, the therapy is simply applying an ointment cream on my face. It doesn't sound nearly as bad as the typical chemotherapy that goes along with most cancers.

I can't help but laugh at the irony of me having to deal with any type of cancer while working on my novel. Cancer is at the center of my book. In fact, it is the reason behind everything that is the book.

It was in the summer of 2006 when the motivation of the book came to fruition. I didn't know it at the time that it would be the motivation for a future novel, it was me simply dealing with real life again.

Laying on hospital bed and awaiting to undergo a colonoscopy, I began to daydream about what I would do if the results of my test proved that I had colon cancer. The dream continued while I was under anestesia and it was so real, so beautiful, and so tangible.

When I was fully awake from the procedure and received the news that all was well, I couldn't stop thinking about the dream. I was glad the whole cancer scare ordeal was over, but I didn't want to lose what I saw and felt in the dream. I eventually stopped thinking about it and the thoughts of the dream were gone forever... Or, so I thought.

While struggling to come up with a post earlier this year, I stopped trying so hard and just started writing. Twenty minutes later, I had the start of my novel. I continued to work on it and I loved how everything I dreamed about came back to me so easily.

Wanting to get some feedback on what I wrote, I started a new blog and posted the first five days of a man heading out to live what he was told would be his last year of life. I have gotten some favorable and some not so favorable feedback on the early stuff.

But, what I have really found is that I like it. Most importantly, I love writing it. The whole process has been so enjoyable for me and I can't wait to get back into it once I get back into it. Does that make sense?

I don't know what will ever happen from it, and at this time, I don't really care what comes from it. I just want to continue to enjoy the process en route to finishing it.

I equate this journey to when I set out to finish my first marathon in 2002. I didn't care how fast I ran or what my time was when I completed the Los Angeles Marathons' 26.2-mile course. I just wanted to finish it. And, I did.

That's all I want to do now. Finish it.

(In his book Stephen King On Writing, King said the worst thing to do when trying to write a book is to have people read it while it is being written. The writer gets too caught up on what the reader thinks and stops staying true to his/her story. I figured King probably knows what he is talking about, so I stopped posting entries on the other blog after five days. If you would like to read the first five days, head over to www.365todeath.blogspot.com. Start with Day 1 and work back up to Day 5.)

Here is my rock

2009-12-01T23:12:00.000-08:00

When it comes to my blog, my life is an open book. I write about anything from my alcoholism to the discomfort my balls have given me at times.

There really has been no limits to what I will write about on here. It is my opinion that if you can't open yourself up in your writing, then what's the point of doing it?

However, I do have my limits. And, my limits have always centered around writing about the people I am close to. I try and stay away from writing about anybody who might not want their personal life on a blog for anyone to read.

That rule is especially true when it comes to who I am dating. Until now.

Meet Jen. She is the hot chick in the picture. But more than being hot, she is my best friend, my biggest supporter, and my rock.

From picking me up in Los Angeles after I spent a night in jail to roaming the sidelines during football games, she is always there for me. And, I am there for her.

We had been close friends for four years before we started dating and it has been so natural for us to be together. There is nothing we can't say to each other and nothing we wouldn't do for each other.

I am truly blessed to have her in my life. It is so great for me to be able say that she feels just as blessed to have me.

So, there you go. You have met Jen.

I probably won't write much about her again. My rule hasn't changed. But, I am pretty confident that as long as I am on here writing, she won't be too far away.

For more Wordful Wednesdays go to Seven Clown Circus.

Another one gone

2009-11-30T22:01:00.001-08:00

For the second time this year, I have lost a dear friend and coaching mentor. Coach Jim passed away Friday morning after suffering a heart attack. He was 59 and a single father of three young men that I have seen grown up over the last 13 years.

Despite coaching at different schools and never working together, Coach and I developed a strong friendship that really blossomed over the last year. He retired two years ago from football, having coached his last game against my team. We won that game 42-20 and it was the only time that I actually felt a little bad about winning.

Coach and I spent many nights sitting next to each other on bar stools, having a few beers while talking football. He was a wealth of knowledge and was never apprehensive of sharing what he knew with an opposing coach.

We were two of three coaches who are at the bar often together. We were like court jesters, making others at the bar laugh with our friendly banter that never seemed to stop. It was great fun among three single men who leaned on each other during rough times on and off the field.

There was no tougher time than when one of the three - Coach Bill - passed away in March at 47. Coach Bill worked for me in the late '90s and then went and worked for Coach Jim before he retired in 2007. After Jim's retirement, Bill worked for me in 2008.

Coach Jim and I were devistated with the loss of our friend. However, we were forced to go into survival mode as we - along with the owner of the bar - had to plan a memorial service for Bill. It was beatifully done and had more than 100 coaches from the area attend.

Ironically, it was just last Wednesday that Coach Jim and I were at the bar and briefly talked about it being the first Thanksgiving without Bill. Two days later, Coach Jim was gone as well.

I can only hope that the two of them are up there together now, looking down at me and cracking jokes at my expense. I wouldn't want it any other way.

(Here is a news report on his loss in a Los Angeles area newspaper last Saturday.)

Forever Coach Jim's spot at the bar

Should it stay or go?

2009-11-23T10:14:00.001-08:00

About the biggest decsion I am going to have to make during my week off is whether or not I should shave my beard off. I stopped shaving midway through the football season after losing a bet with the team.

The season is thankfully over. So, should the beard stay or go? That is the question. Think it over and get back to me.

My testicles and me

2009-11-21T13:50:00.000-08:00

Hi. I'm Coachdad. I stop by every now and then and share a story or two. I usually throw something on here that relates to me and the crazy little girls that are with me when they are not with their mother.

Not this time, though. This isn't your typical post from me. Don't you feel lucky? Well, don't.

I want and need to write about my balls.

Those two little fuckers have given me so much grief over the last three years. And, this time I am not even talking about the four girls that they helped produce.

Seems my testicles don't like when another man starts touching them. I can't blame them. I wasn't all that fond of a 74-year-old man playing with my balls either.

However, if 30 minutes of his pulling, prodding, and cutting into my sack meant that I would be free of the worries of fathering another child, then have at it Doc. Do whatever you want with them, just buy me lunch the next time we see each other on the golf course.

The procedure wasn't all that bad. It was a little uncomfortable, but certainly not painful. Walking out of his office, I felt free to drop my seed anywhere without the worries if it developing into anything other than another relationship that would go wrong.

After three days of limping around, I was back to normal and ready to take them out for a test drive. Satisfied literally and figuratively, I was content with my decision and proud of what I thought was one of the first times that I actually acted like a responsible adult.

Fast-forward six months with me if you will.

It was Christmas morning in 2006 and I woke up to four little girls crawling all over me in my bed. I got up and started walking into the living room to watch them open their gifts when a sharp pain started shooting up the right side of my abdomen. From there, the pain turned into a dull, pounding sensation that never went away, only to be interrupted by more shots of pain.

Two hours later and after dropping the girls off at their Mom's house, I drove to the hospital and began to wait in a overcrowded emergency waiting room. After 45 minutes, I was led into triage and was told that I wasn't suffering from a appendicitis attack and that I should go back to the waiting room and wait to undergo some tests.

Sitting for 15 minutes and knowing that I had much to do before heading to my then fiance's house for Christmas dinner, I left the hospital confident that I wasn't going to die in the next 24 hours.

I didn't die that day, but I fucking wanted to after I found the source of my pain in a bathroom at the fiance's house. Unzippping my pants to piss, I saw what is and will always be the scariest thing I have ever looked at.

My right testicle didn't look like a testicle. It was three times it's normal size and decorated in a deep red and purple color. How the hell did I not see this plum-looking thing earlier?

I hobbled out of her house, drove back to the hospital, sat in the waiting room, went back into triage, underwent an ultrasound on my boys (which I actually enjoyed), and then finally got an answer from a young female doctor who looked like she just got out of medical school.

"You have a condition called Epididymitis," she said.

"Ok. How did I get it and what can I do to get rid of it?"

"It's an infection that is associated with syphilis, gonorrhea, and HIV. We can't test you for those here, so you need to go see your family doctor. You are free to go home now."

What? Merry Fucking Chritmas to you, too. Syphilis, gonorrhea, or HIV? Are you kidding me? Can't wait to call the fiance and tell her the great news.

I didn't tell her that that night, instead I went straight to Dr. Fuck-Your-Balls-Up the next morning with my medical report from the prior night. As soon as he glanced at the report, he looked at me and laughed.

"Relax, Brett. She was correct on her diagnosis, but not how you got it. Read this pamphlet while I go and get you some antibiotics."

It was a pamphlet that dealt with vesictomies and complications that could result from the procedure. The first one listed was epididymitis and it said:

"One of the more common of the vasectomy complications, epididymitis is a condition which occurs when the larger tube behind the testicle, connected to the vas, becomes inflamed and swollen. The application of heat and the use of anti-inflammatory medication with or without antibiotics usually clear this up within a week."

What the pamphlet didn't say is that it can come back every six months or so. Twice a year I am reminded of having my balls played with by an elderly man.

If you ever see a 35- to 40-year-old man in Southern California in obvious pain and hobbling quickly after his girls in a mall, or a park, or anywhere... take solace in the fact that he will never have more than the kids he has with him.

And, I will glady take that trade.

Frustrations of fatherhood

2009-11-20T16:50:00.000-08:00

(I have been asked by an organization who produces materials, books and magazines for Single Parents to submit posts I have written on what it is like to be a single father. After not much thought because I am quite busy right now, I chose one that may turn some people off. It is one that deals with the frustrations of raising little girls on my own. I love them more than anything, but damn do they drive me nuts.)

I remember being a kid and seeing a commercial with a woman having a rough day with her children. Her only escape was running to her bathroom, drawing a hot bath, and slipping deep inside with a smile spread across her face.

I never got that commercial. What could be so hard about spending the day with your children? You wanted them, didn't you?

Some 30 years and four daughters later, I get it. I get every fucking bit of it.

Kids are nuts and aren't satisfied until you are, too. Do they ever slow down and shut up for two seconds? If I wasn't the one who fed them every meal and snack, I'd wonder what the hell they ate to give them all that energy.

The energizer bunny has got nothing on my kids.

For those who want to offer me advise on how to control my kids or what activities would keep them better occupied without my constant attention, kiss off. I have tried them and they don't work.

Not with these girls. No, they can't seem to do anything without including me or allowing me to do anything without including them. What the hell do they do when I am work? Walk around the house all day calling, "Dad? Dad? Dad?"

They really are pathetic little things. In the four years of being a single father who has his kids fifty percent of the time, I think I can count four or five times that I have gone to the bathroom without one of them walking in and sitting down to have a conversation with me.

It really is a big joke to them. They seem to get so much pleasure out of watching me get so flustered by their actions.

"Dad, your funny. You always make me laugh," said to me today as I threw my hands up in disgust after the four-year spilled her cup of milk for the fourth time at one sitting.

"Yea, Dad," the oldest one piped in. "My teacher always says don't cry over spilled milk."

Alright, that was funny. We all laughed for a few minutes as I wiped up the mess. Again.

But, it was short-lived. They were right back to causing havoc within minutes.

Like I said, I now know what that old commercial was all about. I totally get it.

So, to the Calgon people and their commercials of women jumping into bath tubs, I challenge you to make a commercial for me. Something that includes a keg of beer, endless amount of pizza, big breasted women that don't talk, and a television that doesn't play Disney movies.

Oh, and no kids.

(For those who haven't read my blog, I love my kids more than anything, so forget about leaving me a comment about how lucky I am to have four beautiful girls. I know how lucky I am, so shut the hell up!)

Just for kicks

2009-11-20T09:45:00.001-08:00

Time really hasn't been too kind to me lately. So, no new post any time soon. Enjoy a few cartoon's that I received in an email yesterday. Have a great Friday.

Drink anyone?

To scratch, or not to scratch.

Not saying if this reminds me of me.

Don't do it!

Wordful Wednesday

2009-11-11T13:04:00.001-08:00

I got home from football practice today and was welcomed into the home by three girls who just got back after two days with their Mom. Looking at them, I couldn't believe how beautiful they have become.

After a few minutes of deciding what we are going to do the rest of the day, I walked into my room and took a glance at the mirror on my closet door. I couldn't believe how old I looked with wrinkles every where and grey hair mixed in a beard that needs cutting.

Still looking in the mirror, I wondered how I could of possibly played a role in my daughters' beauty.

How did these beautiful girls come from this????

For more Wordful Wednesdays go to Seven Clown Circus.

Tough to admit

2009-11-02T22:28:00.000-08:00

Sitting on a cold concrete floor with my arms crossed and my head buried in my chest, a man twice my size and with blood all over his shirt began to walk toward me.

He stopped a foot away from me to my right, unzipped his pants, and began to pee in a urinal. I could have reached over and touched the dirtiest toilet I had ever seen from the only available place to sit when I was led into the cell in the Los Angeles-area jail.

Never moving my head while he was there, I closed my eyes and began to wonder what brought me to what was no doubt the lowest point in my life. I am lucky enough to be a father of four beautiful girls, have the job that I wanted ever since I was in grade school, and I am generally pretty happy in life.

Yet, here I sit with nine other men, at 2 a.m. on Sunday morning, in a 10x10 cell, knowing that five hours later my girls would wake up and ask my roommates why their Dad was not home. That thought made me realize that there was really only one thing that could make me jeopardize everything that I had in my life.

It was alcohol. Like my mother had been all my childhood and my older brother who developed into one as a young adult, I knew then that I had become an alcoholic.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Seven hours earlier, I fought through Los Angeles traffic en route to my 20th high school reunion. Truthfully, I didn't want to go and see my former teammates on what was one of the best football teams our school ever had.

However, I was repeatedly told that I had no choice.

"Brett, you have to go," Jenny said, who I had known since junior high and was the reunion organizer. "You are the football coach of the school we graduated from. How can you not go? Everyone will want to see you!"

That was exactly the reason why I didn't want go. While seeing old friends and sharing stories from the past was intriguing, having to answer questions on why our football team is now struggling was worth avoiding.

"Don't worry about all that..." Jenny continued. "You will have a blast and everyone won't care about what the team is doing now."

She was right. I did have a blast and everyone was more interested in seeing pictures of my girls than how the team was doing.

For five hours, I laughed, shared parenting stories, and reconnected with people I had grown up with and hadn't seen since graduation. And, I drank.

Every time another former teammate or friend walked up to me to talk, they brought with them a drink for me. I didn't buy a drink during the night. But, that didn't stop me from not knowing how many I drank.

Despite going with the intention of not drinking, I never turned down a drink and was enjoying downing beers with my former drinking buddies.

I was funny, loud, and felt pretty damn good about myself. The shy, insecure kid from high school was now the head football coach at the school we all went to and was also the fun guy to be around.

Shortly after 11 p.m., I began to say goodbyes and started to head to my car when I was stopped by one of my oldest friends.

"Hey, are you OK to drive?" he asked while puffing on a cigarette.

"Yea, I am good. But, let me bum a few cigarettes for the drive home. It will keep me busy and awake."

He handed me three cigarettes and I got in my car and jumped on the freeway. I drove for 30 minutes and thought I was driving just as I would if I was sober.

Driving in the fast lane, I finished the first cigarette and flicked it out the window to avoid the smell lingering in my car. Rolling my window back up, I checked the rear view mirror. My heart began to race as I saw the flashing lights of a California Highway Patrol car behind me.

I couldn't believe it. I had no idea how drunk I was, but was pretty sure I was over the legal limit of .08. Moving my car off the freeway and onto an off ramp, I told myself to calm down and act relaxed when the CHP approached my car.

Stopped on the side of the road, I waited as two officers approached both sides of my car.

"License and registration please," said the younger of the two CHPs.

"Here you go, Sir. Everything alright?"

"Well, everything was alright until you threw a cigarette out your window. Have you been drinking?"

I was speechless and didn't know what to say. Stupidly, I lied.

"No, Sir."

"Well, you were driving fine and we pulled you over because of the cigarette. But, I can smell alcohol on you. If you would have told me you had two beers, we would probably have let you go. You need to get out of your car for a sobriety test. Are you willing do that?"

"Yes, Sir. Whatever you want."

I got out and went through test after test. I touched my nose with my eyes closed, counted backwards, and walked foot over foot down an imaginary line. After I was done, the CHPs talked to one another quietly for a moment before asking me to blow into a breathalyzer.

I agreed and waited patiently after blowing the first time. The younger CHP then asked me to blow again. It was after the second time that I began to understand the situation I was in.

"How fucked am I?" I asked as he waited for the results. "Am I fucked? I am so fucked. Damn... I can't believe this. I am so fucked."

He then looked up from the breathalyzer and told me what I didn't want to hear.

"Sir, you blew .0823. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights?"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After two slip-ups on consecutive weekends after my arrest, I am proud to say that I have not had a drink in 115 days. It hasn't always been easy, but it also hasn't been as hard as I thought it would be either.

Instead of drinking after football games with other coaches, I drink iced tea or have a non-alcoholic drink. No one harasses me about not drinking, and I can't believe how much easier it is on Saturdays or Sundays at football meetings or practices without suffering from a hangover.

The definition of an alcoholic is different for every alcoholic. I believe I am an alcoholic because I couldn't stop once I got started. Enough said.

I am thankful that my night in jail didn't involve me hurting anyone with my car, didn't cause me to lose my family, my job, or end the relatively new relationship I am in with a wonderful woman. It could have been a lot worse for me and my family.

But, that still doesn't change that fact I am... "Brett, and I am an alcoholic."

What do you want to know?

2009-10-31T09:45:00.001-07:00

Dear Coach,

Just wondering, where have you been? Everything alright? Been too long since we have heard from you on your blog. Hope all is well. Can we get anything from you soon?

Sincerely,

Your Bro

That's right. I got an email from one of my best friends from high school asking me where I have been. I have a question for him now... Why not call me and ask? My blog is the only place where we can connect?

Where I have been? How about trying to endure a football season where we have lost eight straight games to start the season?

Or, how about going to a doctor appointment in October for a rash and being told a I need a number of biopsies done on different spots on my face? Doesn't matter what kind of cancer it is, being told that you have cancer can scare you a little.

Or, how about trying to move from one side of the town to the other with little help from guys like you? There is only so much four little girls under 11 can carry from the house to the moving van.

Or, how about having to hire a lawyer for the first time in my life for something other than a divorce? After having never been in any sort of trouble with the law in 38 years, I spent the night in a jail cell with nine other guys who actually looked like they belonged there. Good times.

Or, how about rushing out after my last class to get my girls from their school, bringing them back with me to football practice for three hours, heading home to make dinner, help them with homework, and then finally putting them to bed on a daily basis?

Is that enough? Or, should I go on? Even if I did write a real post, I wouldn't know where to start.

With two weeks left in the football season, I hope to get back to writing on regular basis. But again, where do I start when I start?

How about this... you tell me what you want to know more about from what I told you. Do you want to know more about my football season, my battle with skin cancer that currently has me with 32 stitches in my head, my time as a jailbird, the move that never seemed to end, or the comings and goings with my girls?

You decide.

Thoughts with my Grandma

2009-08-29T15:00:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning with a message on my phone from my Dad. After telling me about all the fun he had on his fishing trip to Alaska, he got down to the real reason why he called.

"Brett, Grandma is in the hospital," he said of his 92-year-old mother. "It doesn't appear to be life-threatening, but you might want to call her. I know she would like that."

My Grandma has always been very special to me and I to her. I can't imagine not having her in my life even though she lives 1,200 miles away.

After getting the phone number of the hospital from my step-mother, I called my Grandma and we talked for several minutes. Not surprisingly, the call centered around me and my girls. She had no interest talking about her health.

"How are the girls, Bretty?" she said. Grandma is the only person that I would allow to call me "Bretty".

"They probably don't remember me. I loved when you guys would come over and have lunch with me. Be sure you tell them about me and that I love them."

"I do, Grandma. All the time."

She moved out of the Los Angeles area a few years ago and I have only seen her once since at her 90th birthday party. I don't call or write her as much as I should, but she is always not far from my thoughts.

I wrote her a letter on my blog in January and I am posting it again for her. She deserves to hear how much she means to me as much as possible.

Dear Grandma,

It has been almost two years since I saw you and I can't tell you how much I miss you and our visits. I know I should call more often. I can tell you how busy I am teaching and coaching, or I can tell you how much time it takes to try and to do my best raising my little girls...but there really is no excuse. After all, a phone call takes just a few minutes to make.

I guess what I want you to know is how much you mean to me and how much I loved spending time with you and Grandpa. Over the years I have periodically been asked who my heroes are... with no reservation I have answered it has been and always will be you two. I can't imagine a greater pair of role models. You are everything I want to be in life, and everything I want to have in life.

Having been married and divorced twice, I can't tell you how much I envy you two and the relationship you had. I can't imagine being married for 60-plus years like you two were. I am not naive to think it was always easy, which only makes me respect this great accomplishment even more.

But more than just being able to make a marriage work for so long, your greatest accomplishment is in the kids you raised. A registered nurse, an aeronautical engineer, and a President of a bank. All have been incredibly successful in their careers, no doubt because of the pride in their work and desire to do everything to the best of their ability that you and Grandpa instilled in them.

Aside from what they have accomplished professionally, they have all remained close with each other and would do anything for you. What more can a parent ask for than that? You have truly been rewarded for your great work as a parent.

I often look back at the times we spent together. Spending the summer in Chicago and the summers you flew out here to Southern California were truly some of the greatest times of my life. Watching you walk off the plane every time you flew out here was a moment that I looked so forward to and one that I still relive today.

There are times when one of my daughters wants to climb into my lap when I am having a long day or just want a moment to myself. As soon as I start to push her away, I think of you and how you were always there for me to climb into your arms or rest my head in your lap as you ran your fingers through my hair. How can I turn down my daughters after remembering how you never turned me away?

I can't imagine how lonely you have been since Grandpa has passed. Please know that you have a grandson who thinks of you often and tells his children what a wonderful Grandma I have in you.

I promise you this year that I will do a better job of calling you on a regular basis. But even if I don't, I wrote this today because I wanted you to have this with you whenever you may be thinking, "How come my Brett hasn't called me in awhile?" I want you to read it so you can know that there is no one who can admire you more, respect you more, and simply love you more than I do. I also want you to know that I will always be YOUR Brett.

Your loving Grandson,

Brett

Grandma and her grandchildren

Pics from last summer trip

2009-08-25T22:08:00.000-07:00

I am dead tired from another day of teaching, football practice and normal Dad duties at the house. However, Savannah said she wouldn't talk to me again until I posted some pics of our last trip to our little getaway place on Lake Isabella.

While the thought of no mindless chatter from my biggest talker was tempting, I promised her she would see some pictures on my blog when she wakes up in the morning. So, here are some taken by a lifelong friend who brought his family up for the day.

That's all I got, though. I never promised to write anything about the trip and I need some sleep. Fast.

Two old friends enjoying a day at the lake with the kids.

Only catch of the day... rather pathetic!

Two of our girls having fun in the water together.

Shelby eying the camera!

Savannah making her move to jump in the lake.

So, there you go Savannah. The pics are up and I am ready to hear your same stories from school over and over again!

For more Wordful Wednesdays go to Seven Clown Circus.

A trip much deserved for Dad

2009-08-23T20:13:00.000-07:00

Right now, my Dad is sitting in a lodge overlooking a lake after spending the day fishing in Alaska. For the first time that I can remember, my Dad is doing something for him and only him.

I couldn't be happier than thinking about my Dad finally doing something he always talked about doing.

As fathers go, I couldn't ask for a better one. He has been there for me in every capacity that anyone can hope for in a father. It has only been the last 10 years that I have realized that.

I always looked at my father as a provider and someone that I could depend on for shelter, food, and security. He was an aeronautical engineer and was one of the most respected men in his field.

It was his work ethic and desire for perfection in his own work that led me to believe that he was unapproachable for fear of disappointing him. Little did I know that was as far from the truth as could possibly be.

It took me a couple of divorces, a few dumb decisions on my part, and a custody battle over my oldest daughter for me to finally reach out to him for what I have always wanted from him: emotional support. Needless to say, he didn't disappoint when I succumbed and turned to him.

"Brett, your my son, and I will always love you no matter what you do. So, you made a mistake or a bad decision. You might not believe this, but I made a few in my time, too. And, I will probably make some more and so will you. You'll get through this."

From that moment on, I have never been intimidated by him or fearful of what he thought of me. A few more mistakes by me over the last year has only reinforced my trust in him as a father who will give me his ear no matter what time I call.

I called my step-mom tonight in hopes of getting a report of how his dream trip was going. She didn't disappoint with news that he caught his limit of salmon by 9:30 a.m. and was going to spend the rest of the day fishing for trout.

He used to always take my brothers and I trout fishing when were kids. The only selfish act my Dad did during those trips was force us to listen to Neil Diamond during the four-hour drive to the High Sierras.

He was so patient with us all. We had to drive him nuts with all the tangles we created with the fishing line, all the trees behind us we would hook into, and all the fighting between us boys over who was the better fishermen.

Looking back now, my brothers and I were wrong over who was the best fisherman. It was, and always will be my Dad.

Finally, he gets to enjoy it without worrying about what his boys are doing.

Back to school

2009-08-16T13:52:00.000-07:00

My girls and I started school this week. I started my fifteenth year as a high school teacher, Kern started sixth grade, Savannah is now in third, Shelby moved into first, and Alani is officially in school with Kindergarten.

We are now represented in the high school, middle school, and elementary schools in our town. All of us were both excited about the start of school and sad to see our summer of lounging around the pool come to an end.

On Tuesday, I skipped my first period of class to take the three youngest to their first day of the new year. With four daughters, I am often baffled by the differences in personalities that they all posses. One might assume that growing up with the same parents and same environment, there would be more similarities in my children.

Savannah was a veteran of the whole process, Shelby was terrified and crying the whole time, and Alani was... Alani.

She could not be more different than the other three. She is fearless, independent, incredibly intelligent, possesses a sense of humor way beyond her years, and has battled and overcome an addiction of using a foul tongue she inherited from her father. Basically, Alani has no idea she is 5-years-old.

When her mother and I walked her into the Kindergarten class on Tuesday, we were surrounded by other munchkins clinging to their father or mother's leg. Alani simply looked around the room, took a few steps away from me, and quickly turned back and looked up.

"You OK, baby?" I said.

"Yep. You guys can go now. I'll see you after school. OK, Dad?"

What? She didn't want us to stick around until class actually started like all the parents? She might have been ready for us to leave, but I wasn't ready to go.

"Well babe, I think your Mom wants to wait here with you for awhile. It is your first day of real school and all."

"OK Dad, but I am going to walk around and check it out."

After 20 minutes of waiting to meet her teacher, I left Alani and she didn't seem all that concerned with my exit. She sat down at her desk, opened a book, and started to thumb through the pages.

With that, my youngest and last daughter to enter school was ready to get started. It didn't seem to matter to her that I wasn't all that ready for her to move on to the next stage in her life.

"Dad, I got a bra!"

2009-08-01T22:59:00.001-07:00

The day I have been dreading for 11 years arrived yesterday. I knew it was going to happen, but just not this soon.

I had hoped it would never happen. But, at 7 p.m., my oldest daughter's mother called me and broke the news.

"Brett, I took Kern out and we spent all the money you gave her on school clothes. . . $250 on school uniforms, socks, underwear, and a couple bras."

I often have to ask Kern's mother "What?". I was never very good at listening when words came out of her mouth. That's probably one of the reasons why we didn't work out.

But, this time, I heard exactly what she said. It didn't stop me from asking her my favorite question.

"What was that last thing you said?", hoping I heard her wrong.

"Yea, we got her a few bras. We have looked at them before because she liked the patterns on some of them. Now, she actually needs them."

I was speechless. I couldn't believe what she was saying to me.

My little girl needing a bra. The same girl I spent three years staying at home with when she was a toddler watching Blues Clues, Sesame Street, and Little Bear. From a bottle-carrying blue-eyed girl whose life revolved around when she would get to go in our pool in the front yard, to a young lady who now sends me text messages and needs a bra.

How did this happen? I know days, months, and years going by is how. But, how did it happen so fast?

You are not supposed to have a favorite child. You are supposed to love them all the same and do your best to treat them equally.

But, Kern will always be special and different to me. She was the first one. The one that taught me how to be a father, how to truly love, and how to put someones' needs, wants and desires in front of my own.

Seems she isn't done teaching me things. Now, I get to learn about buying and washing bras. Took me three years when I was in high school to learn how to take a bra off my girlfriend.

I don't think I will get that same amount time to learn how to be OK with my daughter growing up.

From friend to future bestseller

2009-07-31T17:40:00.000-07:00

I met Danny Evans of Dad Gone Mad during my first Journalism class at Fresno State in 1991. We were two Southern California sports fans in a sea of NorCal dweebs who thought the sporting world centered around the Golden State Bridge in San Francisco.

We quickly developed a friendship and I found Danny to be funny, quick-witted, and rather confident in his ability. Spending just a few minutes around Danny, I realized I was no longer the big fish in a little pond. I came from a small Southern California community college and thought I was a big deal having spent two years as the school newspaper's sports editor and also worked part-time at the local paper.

Along with others in that first class, Danny had far more experience in the writing field and seemed much more at ease about being surrounded by people who thought they were good enough with the keyboard to make some serious dough in the future at big market newspapers and magazines.

During our three years at college together, we played on the same intramural basketball team, played golf, drank beer, snuck into the dorm's cafeteria for lunch and dinners, shared the campus radio airwaves as sports talk show hosts and annalists for school's softball teams, and covered the football games as sportswriters for the school's newspaper. In all the time we were at Fresno State, I don't remember ever studying together. Yet, on a Saturday morning in May of 1994, we both walked onto Bulldog Stadium as college graduates.

After graduation, I left Fresno to become a football coach at the high school I graduated from in Southern California. In need of employment, Danny accepted my offer of helping him land a job at my hometown newspaper that I worked at three years earlier.

He spent my first season as a varsity assistant covering the team for the newspaper in one of our school's greatest seasons. A few months later, Danny left for Orange County and we have had little contact since his departure.

Thirteen years later while surfing the web, I googled Danny Evans in hopes of finding out where his writing skills have taken him. I found his blog Dad Gone Mad and quickly became hooked.

Reading his stuff was no different than sitting in his dorm room back in college. With humor, sensitivity, and brutal honesty, it was no wonder that his site was so popular among reader and advertisers.

I loved everything that I read and after eating up every post, I decided in January to give this blogging thing a try. Not because I thought I could be as good or better than him, but because it became obvious to me that his writing was a form a therapy for him and also provided an outlet for him to get anything and everything off his chest.

While I may have not been able to be as committed to blogging as he has been, I have found it to be rather therapeutic. I have also found that while I love my career choice in education and coaching, I have missed writing more than I would ever admit.

As a follower of Dad Gone Mad, I have waited as patiently as I could for the last year for Danny's first book to be published on August 4th. Deciding last weekend that I could wait no longer, I emailed Danny hoping that our onetime friendship and the the promise to post a review of Rage Against the Meshugenah would get me a copy earlier than the public.

I got home late last night and found his book in my mailbox. Immediately, I opened the package, planted myself on the couch, and dove in head first.

I finished this morning and haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Friend or not, Danny Evans has produced something that I was lucky to read. Something that I needed to read.

Still sitting on the couch eight hours after finishing it, I am unable to do it justice and write the review just yet. I need to finish digesting it.

I will say that it is better than I could ever imagined. It is something that anyone who has suffered from depression, loved someone who has suffered from it, or known anyone diagnosed as clinically depressed, has to get their hands on it.

Danny has written something brilliant and I am glad to say that my first impression of him being funny, honest, and an incredible writer was right on.

(For more information about Danny Evans, his blog, and his book, visit Dad Gone Mad.)

Girls, football and vacation home

2009-07-22T13:19:00.001-07:00

OK. So, I suck. I haven't submitted a post in quite some time. Seems life sometimes gets in the way of doing the things that you love doing like writing.

My girls, summer school, and trying to get ready for the upcoming football season has made it next to impossible to blog on a daily or even a weekly basis.

I have received a number of emails asking me what has happened to me as of late. The fact is not much has happened.

My girls have spent the summer with me at football practice. When we are not on the field, we have been spending the weekends two hours away at our mobile home in Lake Isabella.

It is a small town community in the Western Sierra Mountains that has some of the best fishing in California. Already this summer, my girls have caught their first fish and have spent many hours swimming in the lake.

They love it and I love reconnecting with a spot that my parents and I went to nearly every summer when I was a kid. I frequented it during my 20s a number of times and even stayed in the same mobile home that I took over from my former head football coach two months ago.

I wrote about this spot in a prior post and shared the story of how I was mistaken in a local bar as the kid from "A Christmas Story." Good times for sure.

However, not as fun as spending time with my girls there. They have already decided that we would be spending the next holiday season up there.

Looks like another version of "A Christmas Story" will be in the making.

For more Wordful Wednesdays go to Seven Clown Circus.

A family for me

2009-06-02T23:12:00.000-07:00

There are few times where I have been envious of my married friends. I have been there, done that.

Twice. I am not in any hurry to do that again.

I think I have done rather well as a single father. In fact, I have no doubt that I am a much better father as a single parent than I ever was when I was married.

As a single father, I never walk on egg shells worried that I will upset or disappoint their mother, never worry about someone correcting my parental skills, never have my children see me argue with their mother like we did all too often when we were together, nor have they asked what I said or did to their mom when they see me in the morning sleeping on the couch.

I am certainly not a perfect parent. I have and will again get upset with my girls. When I do get upset, I tend to yell and there is no confusion that Dad is mad. However, after a few minutes, my girls and I are right back to our normal routine of being goofy together and having a good time.

They adore me and I them. I can’t even begin to describe how thankful and fortunate I am to have them in my life. I also can’t imagine that any of us could be any happier than we are now.

However, this afternoon while grabbing some groceries with my girls in tow, I saw something that made me wonder if my girls are being cheated by their mother and I no longer together.

Walking down an aisle in the store, a family of four crossed our path and I stopped and watched them interact with each other.

The father was pushing a cart with a toddler girl facing him firmly fastened in the seat. The two were cooing and cawing with each other with big grins on their faces. Nothing could distract the two of them as they were obviously having fun making funny noises and faces.

A few feet in front of the two, the mother was pointing out canned vegetables to her son who looked to be the same age as my kindergarten-age daughter. She was telling him the importance of eating healthy and he was asking questions about various kinds of vegetables.

After he picked out a couples cans, the mother grabbed them, turned around, and walked back to her husband and younger daughter at the cart. She placed them inside and then kissed both husband and daughter. She then gave them the sweetest, kindest smile as she walked back to the front with her son.

Seeing this, I could not help but wonder if my girls would ever know what a normal, healthy, loving relationship between two adults is about. I grew up with divorced parents and never saw either of them in a good relationship in the eight years that I went back and forth between the two.

I have to believe that has had a big effect on my own inability to make a marriage work. The last thing I want is my girls later in life to struggle over and over again in relationships like their parents.

Continuing to watch them, Savannah brought me back to my own family.

“Dad? What are you doing?”

“What?”

“Why are you just standing there looking at them?”

“Sorry babe. I was just watching them. They look happy together.”

“Yep. But, not as happy we will be when get home and get in the pool. We are always happy when you go swimming with us.”

She grabbed my hand and we headed back to Shelby, Alani and our own cart of food that we would be cooking later with their older sister Kern. May not be the ideal family, but it is our family.

Savannah was right. When we do things like swim together, we are happy.

And, I don’t need to be married to their mother to do that.

My kids, students and the Luau

2009-05-21T20:41:00.000-07:00

School is over in a week. The more years I pile on in my career, the quicker they seem to fly by.

With each year, I have become more and more thankful for the career path that I have chosen. I love my job and 14 years doing it has shown me that there is no better career for me.

What fuels my love for the job isn't the satisfaction I get from teaching kids about the positives of being physically fit for a lifetime. Rather, it is the joy of building relationships with the high school kids.

I love them. Each and everyone of them. Sure, there are times when they piss me off or disappoint me. But, there is no greater satisfaction than watching them come in as freshman and seeing them grow, mature and turn into young adults who appreciate the hard work that myself and the rest of the faculty, administration and other school employees do for the kids.

My favorite event at the end of each year is the Luau. Having graduated from the school that I have been employed at since 1994, I have missed this event only six times since 1985.

Yearbooks are passed out, carnival-like games are played, great food is eaten, and memories from the last year are reminisced. Since I spend so much time at the school as both a teacher and the school's head football coach, my daughters go with me so they can say goodbye to so many students who have watched my kids during football practices and games.

My girls love it. They dance with the students and eat more crap than any 4- to 7-year-old should ever eat. The students love to see them and take them from me for much of the night and teach them dance moves like the "Jerk". It is a move that has been a craze on our campus all year and is one that I could never duplicate.

While my girls are off having fun with cheerleaders and watergirls from my football team, I am able to walk around and talk to kids that I have spent so much time with over the last fours.

During this time, I run into a kid who was my quarterback during my first two years as the head coach. A kid that I would gladly and proudly call my own son.

With no reservations or doubts, I tell him that I will never coach a kid again who has his tireless work ethic in the classroom and football field. He was and is everything a coach could want from a player.

As easy as it was for me to Coach my quarterback, my Most Valubale Player from last season was without a doubt the most challenging athlete I had when I took over the program two years ago. I saw a kid who had more potential than any other player on the field who didn't work as hard as I would like, and he saw a 5-7, 150-pounder who looked like he never played the game.

We yelled at eachother, cursed at eachother, and sometimes went a week or two without saying a word to one another. He drove me mad as I tried everything to get him to see that all I ever wanted was for him to become to best player and person he could be.

I don't know when it happened, or how it happened, but, sometime during the last year the tension between us went away and we quickly became eachother's greatest ally. When I saw him at the Luau, we took a picture together and had a few words that I will never forget.

"Who would thought that you and I would actually like eachother after the start we had together?"

"I know Coach. I hated you when you got the job. But, I would do anything for you now. I can't thank you enough for everything you did for me. I owe you so much."

Little do his he know, that I owe him.

It has been kids like him over the last 14 years that has made a career, my passion.

Be careful what you text

2009-05-14T23:14:00.001-07:00

I love to text message. I find it to be a perfect outlet to get straight to the point with a person without the annoyance of having to acually have a real conversation with someone.

Nothing worse to have to be on the phone for 10 minutes with someone when all you need is a one- to two-word response from the person. Text a simple question and wait a few minutes for the answer.

"Hey, what time is the meeting tonight?"

"7 p.m."

Perfect. Didn't have to hear about his or her day and got the information I was looking to get. Impersonal as hell, however, gets straight to the point.

But... text messaging does have its' drawbacks. Like when you text something personal as hell to the wrong person.

Oh, the problems that can cause. I have been guilty of it many times.

The first time was three years ago when my ex-wife picked up my kids from me on a night I was to entertain the Most Beautiful Woman in the World. As soon as she was gone, I quickly typed up the following text:

"Hey... I am finally alone. Hurry up! I want you now!"

Instead of sending it to the Most Beautiful Woman in the World, I sent it to the last person I texted. My ex-wife.

Needless to say, my night didn't go as planned. Instead, I ended up driving to the exes house to pick up my kids because the ex threatened to leave town for good with my girls if I didn't come get them.

You would think I learned my lesson after that. Nope. Yesterday, I did it again.

This time a new coach I just hired was on the receiving of one of my personal texts that went to an innocent receiver.

I spent last weekend with two women co-workers in Las Vegas to help put an end to a recent but lingering funk I have been in. We had a blast going from club to club watching each other hitting on and being hit on by other patrons.

It was great fun. The highlight of the night was listening to one of my friends having to endure one of the worst lines I have ever heard.

"Excuse me. . . can I be blunt?", said an obviously drunk man in his late 50s from New York.

"Absolutely,", said my friend.

I sat in excitement with what he was about to say to my very attractive friend. After hearing what he said, I knew I would never make the same mistake.

"You have real nice boobies."

My friend laughed and said thank you for stating the obvious and kindly asked him to leave.

We laughed all weekend about it and I thought I would have a little fun with her by sending that line to her yesterday afternoon in a text message. But, instead, I sent it to my newly hired coach that I have only known briefly for a month.

While he is a big guy, I would never say he has man boobs. Even if he did, I would never tell him, "You have real nice boobies."

I realized my mistake when I got a text from the coach.

"Hey Coach... While I am flattered, I really think we should keep our relationship strictly to football. But, again, thanks for the compliment."

Damn, I did it again. And, I did it to a guy who I am so thankful that I was able to steal from a rival school. While I was kicking myself for the fuck up, I got another text from him.

"You know Coach, if you take me to Vegas, I will show you my boobies."

Well... at least this time the recipient of my wrong text had a sense of humor about it.

I Want Revenge

2009-04-29T19:33:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite sporting events to watch with my girls is the Kentucky Derby. I love the pageantry and the history of the event. They love the horses and the women in the stands with their fancy clothes and hats.

We have started the first Saturday in May off the same way for the last six years. Waking up, grabbing the newspaper, and then all sitting down in the living room choosing our own horse to root on later that day.

The person who picks the winning horse gets to decide what family activity we will do Sunday. Not a bad way to spend a day with your daughters.

This year's race will have even more meaning to my girls and I.

I Want Revenge is the early favorite and a friend of mine happens to own one percent of the horse. He will be at my house Saturday enjoying the race with my girls and I in what should be an exciting day.

All week I have been reading articles on how I Want Revenge has been training and all indications are that he is primed for a big race. The anticipation of watching has been building and my girls are almost as excited as I am.

"How many more days until the horses race, Daddy?" Alani asked Monday morning during breakfast.

"Five more, baby."

"And your friend's horse is going to win, right?"

"I hope so."

"Good, then that's the horse I am picking."

For one year, my girls and I will all be picking the same horse.

For more Wordful Wednesdays go to Seven Clown Circus.

Lucky to have what I had

2009-04-27T19:01:00.001-07:00

The Most Beautiful Woman in the World and I are no longer together. She will always be the Most Beautiful Woman in the World to me.

In fact, she will always be the one to me. That will never change. I truly believe that there is one person who comes along in your life who is meant to be with you. She was the one.

I have no ill feelings toward her or no animosity. When you truly love someone, unconditionally love them, you don't start hating them just because the relationship didn't work out. At least, I don't. And, I never will.

I believe people come into your life for a reason. She entered my life during a time when I never thought I could love again. Not just another person, but myself.

She was beautiful (still is), intelligent, magnetic, had a way about her that I knew I could open myself up to her, loved books as much as I did, had a work ethic that I envied and long to have, was the most attractive woman I have ever laid my eyes upon, and possessed an incredible sense of humor. She was someone who I never imagined could possibly be interested in me.

However, for some reason, I couldn't stop pursuing her. She was perfect. Still is. And to me, always will be.

Why we are no longer together really isn't important to me. What is important, is that for more than three years, I had what so many people long to have. I am grateful for that and will always cherish the time we had together.

So, now, I find myself single again in my life. But, for the first time in my life, it doesn't seem to bother me that I am alone. I have my kids, a job that I love, and a memory of the greatest love for another person that I have ever had.

For right now, that is enough.

To the Most Beautiful Woman in the World, thank you for showing me what love truly is for someone other than your child. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for everything.

Just know that I will always be there for you. For whatever you may need, whenever you may need it.

Being a good neighbor

2009-04-26T13:21:00.001-07:00

My next door neighbor has not mowed his lawn in 2009. I decided yesterday in a round about way to bring attention to the eye sore that has been bothering me for weeks.

"Hey, Bob. How are you doing?"

I didn't allow him to answer. Instead, I tried to use humor to get him to see what I have to see every time I am in my front yard.

"Your grass grows so much faster than mine. You could film an episode of "Man vs. Wild" in your front yard. Want me to call the Discovery Channel and get them out here for you? Could be a nice money maker for you."

Without hesitation, Bob turned around and walked back in his house without saying a word. Guess he doesn't get my sense of humor.

Wordful Wednesday

2009-04-21T18:31:00.001-07:00

I don't know why I have this look on my face, nor do I remember making this face. Further evidence that drinks other than iced tea, diet coke, and/or milk may not be best for me to have when cameras are around.

For more Wordful Wednesdays go to Seven Clown Circus.

My own National Lampoon's Vacation

2009-04-20T18:21:00.000-07:00

For one day, I was Chevy Chase. And, not the good Chevy Chase who made America laugh on Saturday Night Live, or in his movies Caddy Shack or Fletch. No, I was Chevy Chase from National Lampoon's Vacation.

And, my girls will never let me forget it.

In the movie Vacation, Chevy Chase plays Clark Griswold, a family man who plans a cross country trip with his family to visit the fictional amusement park Wally World. After mishap after mishap, the family finally arrives to Wally World only to find it closed for a week due to repairs.

A great watch for the audience, however, in real life with four daughters in a car on a five-hour round trip drive, it's nothing short of hell.

I came up with a plan Sunday morning to take my girls to one of my favorite destinations as a child. Nestled under in the Eastern Sierra mountains, the Mt. Whitney Fish Hatchery is one of the oldest in the state and one of the most visited.

I told my girls all about the hatchery during breakfast and tried to convince them that it was worth the long drive. They were skeptical to say the least, but agreed that it beat staying home on a beautiful Spring day.

We took off shortly after breakfast and it didn't take long for the 4-year-old to start doing what 4-year-olds do on long trips.

"Are we there yet?"

That was quickly followed by, "Can we stop? I have to go to the bathroom?"

When she wasn't asking one of those questions, the other three were in the back fighting over what road trip game we should play next. Twenty questions, I Spy, and Name that Tune were being played over and over again.

"Dad, I don't want to play that again,'' said Shelby. "They always win and get to pick what they want to play because they are older."

After hearing this, I morphed into my Dad when we used to go on long trips when I was a child. I couldn't believe it was happening, but there was no stopping it.

"Hey girls, why don't you play the Quiet game?"

"What's that?" asked Vanna.

"Let's see who can be the quietest the longest. The winner gets to pick the next CD we play. OK?"

For one minute, it worked. They were quiet and were doing nothing but looking at each other waiting for the other to crack. Then, it was over.

"Dad, this game sucks," said Kern, the oldest and less apt to fall for the trick. "All the CDs are yours any ways, so we don't want to listen to them any way."

With that, we were back to the, "Are we there yets?", "I am hungry,", and "How much longers?". I was about to scream when I finally saw what I was looking for:

Mt. Whitney Fish Hatchery, 2 miles

The girls began to scream as I turned on the dirt road that led to the hatchery. After driving for a mile, we reached the entrance only to find the gate closed and locked.

"Dad, what does the sign say?"

"Alani, it says its closed because it is damaged from a flood,'' said Kern. "Well, Dad, that was worth the drive."

I couldn't respond to that the way I wanted to, so instead I unloaded the girls and we had lunch outside the gate while sitting on the dirt road. They asked a few questions about the surrounding mountains and it appeared as if I was forgiven.

Then, Vanna asked a question that she didn't like the answer to.

"Can we go to the mall here?"

"Babe, this is a little town. They don't have a mall here."

"Why did we come here?"

"I don't know, babe. I don't know."

Bested by a Kindergartner

2009-04-18T18:07:00.001-07:00

As a parent, you always want your children to have more than you did and to be better than you. As far as being better than me, my girls don't have to do much to best me.

It took six months in Kindergarten for my second youngest to do something I never did as a student. She made sure I knew about it as soon as I got home from work Friday afternoon.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Yea, baby?"

"Were you ever the Student of the Month when you were in school?"

"No, I don't think I ever was Shelby."

"Ha Ha. I was just name Student of the Month, Daddy! What do you think about that?"

"That's awesome, baby!"

After saying that, I scooped her up and gave her the biggest hug. While she was in my arms, she whispered something in my ear that I will never forget.

"Don't be mad at me, Dad. But, I am already better than you. And, I am six!"

Little turd. But, I couldn't argue with her.

Sexual healing

2009-04-17T19:38:00.000-07:00

I have a new hobby. I enjoy it. Immensely.

The other people who have to endure it while I am enjoying myself is a different story. For them, the three to five minutes must seem like an eternity. However, I could really care less.

I am just living the dream. Me, a microphone and a willing or even an unwilling audience is all I need.

Well, maybe one beer. When your as bad as I am, a little liquid courage never hurts. Who would have thought that partaking in Karaoke would be so much fun?

They say those who can do, and those who can't teach. Well, I am already a teacher. So, when it comes to singing, I pick songs that I have no business singing. If you can't do it, try and screw it up as much as possible is my philosophy.

Why take yourself seriously when you know you aren't any good? It's all about having fun and letting loose.

So, my song of choice? Clarence Carter's Strokin'. That's right. This 5-foot-7, 150-pounder sings a song sung by a big black man with a strong voice.

That's like Barry White singing Barry Manilow's Mandy. It doesn't work.

But, me impersonating Carter giving sexual tips? It doesn't get any better. The irony of it all... sex is something I vaguely remember.

But, I can sing about it.

"Let me ask you something...
How long has it been since you made love, huh?
Did you make love yesterday
Did you make love last week
Did you make love last year
Or maybe it might be that you plannin' on makin' love tonight"

It doesn't matter that I would have to answer no to all those questions. Well, last year... that would be yes.

No. What matters is that for the few minutes I am up there, I am making love with the microphone. And, it's good. Real good.

For me, at least. When your a single dad, sometimes that's as good as it gets.

Catching up with Mom

2009-04-15T19:48:00.000-07:00

OK, so I am back. Been awhile. Too long in fact.

Maybe not long enough for some of you. But, here I am.

It has been quite a month to say the least. Had a birthday, buried a friend, celebrated Easter with my girls, spent too many nights singing Kareoke in a local bar, got a new roommate, and had the best conversation with my Mom in the last 20 years.

To say the least, the conversation with my Mom was the highlight.

Ironically, it didn't start off all that great. In fact, after hearing the first thing she said, I thought our relationship was doomed.

"Brett, I read your entire blog."

After that, there was silence. I was speechless and she was waiting for me to say something.

There have been a few times where I referred to my Mother in posts where I talked about her drinking problems, wrote about her driving our family car into a Winchell's Donuts, and even mentioned her failed relationships with men since the divorce with my father. The purpose of doing this was not to hurt her, rather, I did it because her struggles were a part of me.

I have said in the past that my blog is essentially me looking in a mirror. What I see is what I write.

However, when I write something that puts a loved ones business out for anyone to read, I should have considered how they would feel about it. That's what was going through my mind while thinking of what to say to her.

"Are you OK? I mean, I know I wrote some things you probably didn't like reading."

"No, it wasn't easy reading some of the things on there. But, that was me. I am just sorry, Brett."

Hearing my Mom tell me she was sorry was hard to take. I have never looked for an appolgy from her. She's my Mom. The only Mom I had and the only Mom I will ever have.

More importantly, the only Mom I could ever want.

While she had her faults, there were things about her that I absolutely loved and adored.

Whenever I had a problem or was in some sort of trouble, she was always the one I ran to. She was human and had gone through shit and I knew she would listen and not judge or ridicule me.

She was the one I told when I got drunk for the first time, when I lost my virginity, and ran to after all my failed relationships. I couldn't have asked for anyone better to go to.

I could always count on her for that. If my girls feel that way about me in 20 years, I'll be a happy father.

It was finally time to tell her.

"Mom, listen. Whatever problems or mistakes I have had or made, are all me. I'd like to be able blame you, but it would be a lie. You need to let go of the past, and know that I love you and am so grateful for you."

"Thank you, Brett."

"No, thank you Mom."

We talked for another 20 minutes and we agreed to find a way to get her out to California to spend a week with my girls and I. It's finally time for my daughters to meet the great Mother I have.

A word from a sponsor

2009-03-25T21:50:00.000-07:00

A little warning before you continue reading: I am going to pimp myself out for little to next to nothing. I can't help it. I will do just about anything to get something for free.

Even if it something that I don't see myself using. Ever.

I received an email today from someone asking me to promote a "Save our Saturday" Program from the Krylon company. If I write about it, Krylon will send me a can of its' Wood Stain Spray. Huh? The only wood I work with is my own and I am not willing to spray anything on my "wood".

I am not the kind of guy who does "Tool Time Tim" type of work. If the there is anything that is needed to be done around my house I grab the local newspaper, find a handyman, call him, and then sit back and let him fix whatever needs to be fixed.

I know my limitations and I am OK with it. As Popeye said so eloquently, "I am who I am, and that's all that I am."

Nevertheless, promoting a program that helps guys getting their Saturday's back and limit the amount of time they are doing chores around the house is something that I have no problem doing. Men should have more time to drink beer and watch mind-killing TV on a Saturday.

Here is a detailed description about the program straight from the email:

"Krylon is launching a “Save Our Saturday” Program, which will have a sports trivia contest for free tickets to the World Series and a free HDTV on its site. The site will be promoting Krylon’s new Exterior Wood Stain Spray for refinishing old wood furniture, floors, fences, etc. The product is not so much for handymen or woodworkers, as much as it is for dads who want to SAVE TIME on their weekends (the spray takes about ¼ the amount of time that conventional wood stain takes)."

The email also stated that they hope their program will help men with the "dreaded" honey-do list. I must say, this is another thing that I can't relate to like other men can.

I have been on my own for so long now, I don't even know what having a honey-do list is like. What I have is a shit-to-do list. May not seem like there is big difference between the two, but the difference is huge.

A honey-do list is something you better get done on a Saturday or you will be spending the night on the couch. A shit-to-do list is the shit you are thinking about doing while you are sleeping on the couch all day long.

See the difference? I'd much rather have my shit-to-do list.

To the Krylon Company, I hope I did a good enough job promoting your new program. I want my can of Wood Stain Spray.

I can't wait to see the damage my daughters will do with it.

This and that

2009-03-23T14:28:00.000-07:00

I don't know who came up with the saying that things happen in 3s, but I hope it doesn't apply to me and my kids.

Four days after spending an hour in urgent care watching Shelby having her chin stitched up after a fall, Savannah fell down the stairs and suffered a mild concussion and a cut that turned her hair bright red. Stitches were not needed, but I did have to spend another hour in urgent care.

I am quickly becoming a favorite of the nurses and doctors and they are looking forward to me coming back later this week with Shelby to get her stitches removed. I just hope an injury to Alani or Kern doesn't bring me back sooner.

While I don't have any Laker tickets to take Savannah to a game like I did after Shelby's injury, I did set up a date with her at a local restaurant. She constantly watches cooking shows and talks of one day being a chef.

I know the owner of the restaurant and she has agreed to let Savannah make her own dinner with the chef. Savannah is already counting down the days until she gets to cook with a real "Chef"...

I started a new blog right before my computer crashed where I intended to write about a fictional character who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. I was going to write daily chronically his last year of life. I only was able to do two posts before losing my computer.

Having dealt with cancer on two separate occasions, I often wondered how I would deal with being told that I only had a short time to live. The character's reaction to his diagnosis and what he does is the way I would have wanted to deal with the news.

I write about this now because yesterday at church our Pastor started a month long series called "One Month to Live." The purpose of the series is to get people to stop living for someday and start living life with purpose, passion, and fulfillment beginning today.

I look forward to the series and hope that it can give me more direction in my own life, while also providing material for my other blog when I able to continue it...

Several of you inquired about my computer problems and asked if that my recent posts meant I was back online again for good. Unfortunately, I am still without a computer and it is hit and miss when I can post.

One of my roommates is out of town and I have been able to use her laptop while she is gone. My new computer is on back order and is still two to three weeks from being in my hands...

While losing my coaching friend was extremely hard on me, I did have the pleasure of meeting his two brothers and his parents. Both brothers are football coaches and we really enjoyed talking x's and o's during the week they were in town.

One of the brothers texted me over the weekend and asked me to come up to Oregon in May for his son's high school graduation. I accepted and can't wait to spend the weekend with him and his family.

Date night with Shelby

2009-03-21T20:43:00.000-07:00

While growing up, I was a klutz who spent many nights in the emergency room. There was never a year that I didn't spend some time in the hospital.

There was a concussion after running into a pole while in a kindergarten, a broken rib suffered in a baseball game as a 12-year-old, a deep cut to my right knee from a bike spoke, and I almost cut a pinkie finger off while working as a slicer at an Italian restaurant as a teenager. Throw in four surgeries for various health issues, and it shouldn't surprise that many of the hospital staff knew me on a first name basis.

After each trip, my parents always had some gift waiting for me at home. It always made me feel loved when I walked into my room and found some present waiting for me on my bed.

On Thursday afternoon, I was able to do the same thing for one my own daughters. I received a call during my last class from her mother that Shelby split her chin open after falling on a toy box. I left work in a hurry and spent the afternoon with my six-year-old in a local urgent care.

The result was a night that neither of us will ever forget.

She received six stitches to close up a cut that the doctor said was one of the worst she had seen. My daughter was a trooper during the ordeal and I knew I had to come up with something to give her like my parents had for me after my hospital visits.

I had two tickets to a Los Angeles Lakers' game later that night and had troubles finding someone to go with me. While waiting to be seen, I had received a number of text messages from friends saying that for some reason or other they would not be able to join me to watch one of the best teams in the NBA.

Shelby kept telling me different friends I should try and invite to the game, but never came up with person I knew I should take.

"Hey, I know someone I can take to the game," I said.

"Who?"

"You!"

She smiled so big at my response that the doctor warned her about possibly reopening her cut. We both laughed at that and walked hand in hand out the door.

She talked endlessly during the two-hour drive and never stopped asking questions about what she was going to see. I have never seen her so excited, however, it would have been nice for a few quiet moments while trying to navigate through LA traffic.

As soon as we walked into Staples Center, she had to have a Lakers' t-shirt, a foam finger in the shape of the No. 1 sign, an ice cream cone, and a large bottle of water. She was quickly becoming an expensive date.

While waiting for the game to start, she asked me what I thought was an innocent question. It ended up being a dig at her old man.

"Dad, who do you think will win the game?"

"The Lakers are going to win for sure, baby."

"Well, that will be nice. Your basketball and football teams never win."

She is definitely my daughter.

Despite that comment, we had a great night and the Lakers did win. She stood up the entire game cheering and yelling "MVP" every time the Kobe Bryant got the ball.

As we walked out, she said thanks and that she had a great time. Shelby even said that she was glad that she got hurt and was able to spend the night all on her own with me.

I couldn't have agreed with her more.

Friends in low places

2009-03-17T23:31:00.001-07:00

I have never been a bar hopper. Oh, I have frequented bars many times in my adult years. However, spending night after night in a bar has never been something I have done.

Last week that changed when I spent three nights in a row in the same establishment while planning the memorial services for my coach who recently passed away. In doing so, I found peace in knowing that my friend was not as alone as I thought he was in the last year.

I found a place that people from all walks of life would go and find family that I never knew existed. I must say, it was a beautiful discovery.

These people don't go to the bar to simply drink. They go because it is the one place that they know that they can be with people who won't judge and will allow them to be the real person that they are.

Is there really anything more that people want in life?

Alcohol has been something that I have always feared. Growing up with a mother who is alcoholic and used it as a vehicle to deal with my father can do that to a child. However, I found that spending time with a diverse crowd in a bar doesn't have to center around drinking.

My coaching friend was a man that I have no problem saying that I loved. He had no family in our area and I often worried about him when he left work and headed home.

Make no mistake, he had his vices. In our own way, we all do. How else can we deal with the daily strife's without having some outlet?

For Bill, his outlet was leaving work and having a few drinks while hanging out with friends. I used to give him shit for spending so much time in a bar and tried to convince him to stop going in there so much.

However, after spending so much time in there last week, I am so grateful to the bar employees and its' patrons for the love they gave Bill. They really did care for him and grieved for his loss as much as I have over the last two weeks.

My friend might have lived in a trailer, had no car, and had no one waiting at home for him. But, he did have people who loved him, cared for him, and who looked out for him. Lots of people. More people that I could have ever imagined.

This was a real eye-opener for me. It showed me that it really doesn't matter what you have in life, what you do in life, or where you might want to go in life. What matters is the people you have in your life.

In its simplest terms, life is about the relationships you have built with people. If you can leave this world having touched and been touched by as many people that my friend Bill did, than you have had a successful life.

What more can you ask for?

Saying goodbye to a friend

2009-03-06T22:42:00.000-08:00

I read where Stephen King said he is at his best as a writer when he has a little friend standing in the corner of his office just hanging out. He isn't always there and doesn't know when he will come or go.

King just knows that when he is there, magic will likely occur and he writes as fast and as much as he can. Those are the times when King knows he is at his best as a writer.

While I would never compare myself to King, I can relate to him as far as not knowing when my creative muse will come or go. I do know that it hasn't been with me since Wednesday and I don't see it coming back anytime soon.

Instead, I find myself trying to write with my heart. It's a heart that was broken with the news that my colleague, top assistant coach, and more importantly, my dear friend was found dead in his house Wednesday afternoon.

Two days later, I am still in shock and can't believe that he really is gone.

He has been with me through two divorces, a cancer scare, the birth of my four daughters, and some ups and downs on the football field. Through it all, it has been his incredible wit and big heart that I will remember most.

We started coaching together in 1997 and despite the fact I was his head coach, I realized that he knew more about football than I would likely ever know. Any question I might pose about how to defend an opponents' offense or how to attack a defense, Bill always had the answers.

After he had spent four years at another school, I was able to talk him into returning to my staff this past year as my defensive coordinator. He had just finished a season where his team went 0-10 and the coach he worked for had announced his retirement.

It seemed like a good move for him as one of his losses he suffered a year ago came against my coached-team. However, this year we struggled with numbers in our program and finished with just one win.

Our lack of success had nothing to do with Bill as he was as good of a coach as any I have ever worked with before. He was also the same 'ole Bill as far as humor goes.

During our last game and facing the team he coached a year ago, we were losing by three touchdowns midway through the third quarter. After another failed offensive possession, Bill could tell that frustration was getting the best of me and put his arm around me. He then said the only thing that could have got a laugh out of me at that moment.

"You think this is bad for you?" he asked.

"What do you mean, Bill?"

"I could be over on the other side of the field right now kicking your ass. But, I chose to come and work for you. I feel worse than you could ever feel."

He then flashed me a little smile and walked away. While watching him head down the sidelines, I laughed and was thankful that he had come back to work with me again.

I just wished it lasted longer than one season. I am going to miss the hell out of him.

One of my favorites

2009-03-04T20:00:00.000-08:00

(Since my computer is still down and I have received emails asking for posts, I decided to rerun the fourth post I wrote. Not too many people were reading me back then. I hope to be back soon.)

I fucked up yesterday. I really don't know how else to describe it. I just fucked up.

I am sorry about cussing... but I am pretty fired up. I am around high school kids all the time and I really have to control the language. Right now, though, there's no controlling it.

Before I get into what I did, let me give some background information that pertains to what happened.

Three years ago, I started dating the most beautiful woman in the world. I really don't know how it happened or what she was thinking at the time. Really... I mean if you saw a picture of her and me, you'd be wondering the same thing. Pretty fucking cool, huh?

Before we started dating, we talked about books and what we each like to read. I was a classical book fan, meaning I was reading the Hemingway's, Harper Lee's, Steinbeck's and anyone else that I heard won an award or two. I thought it broadened my mind and made me cool if I read them.

She, on the other hand, was into fantasy, sci-fi, vampire and a whole bunch of other shit that I never even fathomed of reading. I couldn't even imagine why someone would want to read that stuff. I mean, we did grow up, didn't we?

We traded books from our own collection and promised each other we would actually read them. She gave me Marta Randall's A Sword for Winter and I gave her Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms.

I actually read it. I really liked this woman and anything to help in my pursuit of getting her to bed... I was going to do it.

A funny and unexpected thing happened while reading this book... I fell in love with fantasy writing. The only other fantasy writing stuff I read before was the letters in Penthouse, and there was no cleanup needed after reading this genre.

It was incredible. It brought me into whole new world that I never knew existed. I wanted and needed more.

She then proclaimed me ready to move up a notch and tackle a series, not just one book. She gave me George RR Martin's series Fire and Ice and I dug in and started reading.

And I read and I read and I read. I finished four books of more than 1,000 pages each in four weeks. I couldn't help myself. It was the most beautiful, and yet, kick ass story you can imagine. I still get goosebumps down the back of my neck thinking about it.

But after the fourth book, I asked her for the fifth book. That's when she broke the news to me that he has yet to finish his next installment in the series. I was crushed beyond belief. And pissed off to boot.

What the hell was I going to do now? I had jumped into this series face first and it taken over all my thoughts throughout the day. Now, I had to wait for him to finish the next book?

Three years later and I am still waiting.

I routinely go onto his website looking for updates on the book only to find that he has been working on other projects, blogging about the NFL season, and traveling with his wife. He even writes a blog entry about HBO turning the series into weekly TV show.

How the fuck are they going to do that? He hasn't finished it!

Well, when it comes to books, I am not one to sit back and not do anything. After reading the book Friday Night Lights which a sports writer follows a high school football team from Texas, I called Boobie Miles to find out how he was recovering from a knee injury he suffered during the season featured in the book.

I don't remembered how I got the number, but I did and called him. We talked and he told me his football days are over and that he was still trying to figure out what he was going to do with his life. I wished him luck and thanked him for taking my call and we hung up.

Today, I thought I'd try calling Mr. Martin so we can discuss his lack of writing these days. His site told me he lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico and I began calling information.

Damn it if I didn't find a George R. Martin and I now had a number.

This is where the "I fucked up yesterday" comes in. I was pretty nervous about calling and may not get exactly what I said right, but this should give you a good idea of what happened and what was going through my head as I called over and over again...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ring, ring, ring, ring...answer machine.

"Thank you for calling the Martins. We are not available right now. Please leave a message and we will get back to you as soon as possible. Beeeeeeeep."

Yea, George, uhhhhhmmm... I am a huge fan... I can't believe I am talking to you, well not you, your answering machine. Shit, this awesome. Hey, how come you don't have something cool on your machine? Like, I am up on the Wall right now on lookout... Winter Is Coming. I'll call you back when I can. Now, that would be cool as shit. But, anyways, I am calling about your fifth book, when is it...Beeeeeeep.

Shit, I didn't even get to ask about the book. Relax this time. He is just a person... you can talk to him. Ok, calling again...

Ring, ring, ring, ring...answer machine.

"Thank you for calling the Martins. We are not available right now. Please leave a message and we will get back to you as soon as possible. Beeeeeeeep."

Hey George, it's me again. But, what I was going to ask is, uhhhhm, this is fucking awesome. But anyways, when is your next book coming out? I and I am sure many others are waiting. Your shit is soooo fucking good, but I can't wait much longer. I mean, your picture on your website looks like your old and shit. What the hell am I going to do if you.... beeeeeeeep.

Oh shit, that didn't go well. I don't want him to think I am stalker or a fucking nut. I have to call back...

Ring, ring, ring, ring...answer machine.

"Thank you for calling the Martins. We are not available right now. Please leave a message and we will get back to you as soon as possible. Beeeeeeeep."

Yea, uhhhhmm, what I was going to say is what if you die? How will I know what happens then? So, please finish this series. I am real big fan. Thanks and have a good day.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And that was it. What an idiot. I came off as a total dumbass. I can't believe I fucking did that. He'll never finish the book just to spite me.

I was ready to forget about the whole calling Mr. Martin thing when my phone rang. It was him. He was calling me back?? I hate caller ID...should have blocked my calls.

"Hello?"

"Hi. This is George Martin. But not the author George Martin. The plumber George Martin. Please don't ever call here again, and I recommend you never try getting a hold of the author. Do you understand, asshole???" Click!

Damn. Who would have guessed there was more than one George Martin in New Mexico?

At least the real George Martin doesn't think I am an asshole.

Caught with my pants down

2009-03-03T20:52:00.000-08:00

There are many times in my life where I have gotten my ass in trouble. However, I can't recall a time where my ass got me in trouble.

That changed Friday night when I read the following email from someone who claimed to be me on Facebook:

Dear Brett,

I found this video of you from high school. You can see your ass in it. Check it out.

Sincerely,

Me

Dumbfounded, I clicked on the link anticipating me and some shot of my ass. What I got instead was nothing but a flashing screen on my computer that quickly turned blue. That blue screen has not changed in four days and I no longer have a working computer in my home.

My ass video turned out to be nothing more than a virus that killed my computer completely. As if that wasn't bad enough, the ass that sent me the video claiming to have my ass in it also shipped the email to all my friends on Facebook. There is nothing like pissing off people you haven't seen since high school. I am sure they can't wait to see my ass this summer at our 20th Reunion.

I was notified Tuesday afternoon that my computer needs to be rebuilt and everything on my hard drive is lost. No more working on lesson plans, no more checking email, and no more blogging from home.

I don't know how long it will take before I get my computer back, or when I will be able to start writing again on a daily basis. The computer tech in charge of my job told me to remain patient and that when I get it back, it will be better than new.

What I do know is that I will never let the lure of my ass get the best of me again.

Let it be

2009-02-27T17:57:00.000-08:00

"When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be. And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be."

The Beatles, Let it Be

For two days now this song has been playing in my head. Two days to fully ingest the lyrics, regurgitate them, and reingest them once again.

I am finding myself completely full of them. With every bite I take, my own problems seem to swirl in my head. The dizziness is driving me mad.

How come when I find myself in times of trouble, the only people I hear are the people that I am having the trouble with? Never questioning or challenging the problem, just smoothing it over and covering it up, only to surface later.

Oh, if I would only listen to my own mother Mary. The one person who has the answers and yet I can't find myself to fully hear them.

It's time to start listening to her as much as I have been listening to the Beatles.

The secret is out

2009-02-26T16:59:00.000-08:00

I have been found, caught, and outed. Quite simply, my secret is no longer a secret.

Ronda for Ronda's Rants warned me about it happening some day. I just didn't think it would happen this quick.

A friend of mine who I had not told about my blog, told me yesterday that he is a regular reader. How the hell did this happen?

One of the best things about starting my own blog in January is that it gave me a forum to express myself without the worry of friends or loved ones being offended. Everyone needs to vent at times, and this was to be my outlet.

This blogging thing also allowed me to write about any insecurities I may have... like admitting that being a single father to four girls isn't all that easy. It is the kind of information you just don't throw out there for just anyone to digest and judge.

Especially people you work with or coach against on a daily basis.

It was brought to my attention last night while attending a meeting with all the high school football coaches in my area.

"Hey, Brett, you got a minute?" said an assistant coach at one of my rival schools.

"Yea, what's up Coach?", I answered. The best thing about my profession is that I never have to worry about forgetting someone's name. We are all Coach.

"I read your blog every day in second period. It's cool, man. I like it."

I couldn't believe it. What the hell is a football coach doing reading blogs? Humor me and forget about the fact that I am a football coach for a minute. But, aren't these guys supposed to be only interested in looking at ESPN.com or the latest blog site dedicated to high school football?

I thanked him for the compliment and we talked about it for a few more minutes before we headed home. It really is surreal for me to think that I am now being read by people who I will encounter on a daily basis.

Makes me wonder if I will worry about what I write about now. I don't think so, though.

In fact, to you readers that know me in the real world: You might want to be afraid of how you treat me in the future. I just might reveal information about you on here.

And, to my surprise, people actually read this shit.

Realizing a dream

2009-02-24T16:52:00.001-08:00

Remember when you were a kid and someone would ask what you wanted to be when you grew up? I do. And, I lied every time.

I would answer with the customary pilot, fireman, teacher, or policeman response. Sometimes, to get a laugh, I would poke fun of my small stature and say that I wanted to be horse jockey.

All were bullshit responses, of course. I, unlike my classmates, knew what I wanted to be since I was a 5-year-old.

I wanted to be the head football coach at our local high school. My Dad took me to a game when I was in first grade and that night was all I thought about for days.

I kept bugging my Dad to take me again and he finally did. Over and over again. All I could think about while watching the games was one day playing on that field and then later coaching on it.

Ten years later, I did play on that field and would for four years. Unfortunately, God dealt me a cruel blow by stopping my growth in seventh grade. I played as a 5-6, 120-pound wide receiver who offered the team very little in my playing ability.

What I did offer was someone who gave it his all at every practice and game and one who became a spiritual leader. While my teammates were doing everything on the field to get us a win, I was on the sidelines rooting and waving a towel to get the crowd involved.

I loved every minute of it, but often was embarrassed about being nothing more than a cheerleader in pads. What I really wanted was the chance to make a difference on the field.

That never happened in high school. However, two years ago I realized my dream of becoming the school's head football coach. With the same enthusiasm that I had as a player, it is now my responsibility to bring the winning tradition back to the proud school.

It's the opportunity I always wanted.

For more Wordful Wednesdays go to Seven Clown Circus.

Calgon for men

2009-02-22T21:17:00.001-08:00

I remember being a kid and seeing a commercial with a woman having a rough day with her children. Her only escape was running to her bathroom, drawing a hot bath, and slipping deep inside with a smile spread across her face.

I never got that commercial. What could be so hard about spending the day with your children? You wanted them, didn't you?

Some 30 years and four daughters later, I get it. I get every fucking bit of it.

Kids are nuts and aren't satisfied until you are, too. Do they ever slow down and shut up for two seconds? If I wasn't the one who fed them every meal and snack, I'd wonder what the hell they ate to give them all that energy.

The energizer bunny has got nothing on my kids.

For those who want to offer me advise on how to control my kids or what activities would keep them better occupied without my constant attention, kiss off. I have tried them and they don't work.

Not with these girls. No, they can't seem to do anything without including me or allowing me to do anything without including them. What the hell do they do when I am work? Walk around the house all day calling, "Dad? Dad? Dad?"

They really are pathetic little things. In the four years of being a single father who has his kids as much if not more than their mother, I think I can count four or five times that I have gone to the bathroom without one of them walking in and sitting down to have a conversation with me.

It really is a big joke to them. They seem to get so much pleasure out of watching me get so flustered by their actions.

"Dad, your funny. You always make me laugh," said to me today as I threw my hands up in disgust after the four-year spilled her cup of milk for the fourth time at one sitting.

"Yea, Dad," the oldest one piped in. "My teacher always says don't cry over spilled milk."

Alright, that was funny. We all laughed for a few minutes as I wiped up the mess. Again.

But, it was short-lived. They were right back to causing havoc within minutes.

Like I said, I now know what that old commercial was all about. I totally get it.

So, to the Calgon people and their commercials of women jumping into bath tubs, I challenge you to make a commercial for me. Something that includes a keg of beer, endless amount of pizza, big breasted women that don't talk, and a television that doesn't play Disney movies.

Oh, and no kids.

(For those who haven't read my blog, I love my kids more than anything, so forget about leaving me a comment about how lucky I am to have four beautiful girls. I know how lucky I am, so shut the hell up!)

Surviving the weekend

2009-02-21T11:25:00.001-08:00

Single father's survivor guide to a weekend with four girls. A weekend with the satellite TV down and my car out of commission.

Planning is in order to ensure that all five of us will be breathing at the end of the weekend.

1. Stay home on a Friday night and get much needed sleep before the crew comes home at 12 p.m. May be the only sleep you get all weekend. Check.

2. Find website to make packets for each child of coloring pages, ABCs and math worksheets, and word searches. The busier they are the quieter they will be. Check.

3. Find perfect DVD that can be on a continuous loop and keep them entertained while I try and cook meals without eight hands getting in the way. Pick up High School Musical 3 Senior Year on the way home from work. Check.

4. Pray for weekend with no rain. Giving the girls an opportunity to run around outside will tire them and hopefully and have them nicely tucked in bed at 8 p.m. and ready for sleep. Check.

5. Have mental health disorder hotline number on speed dial. Things may get crazy and I want to make sure I am not the one who is going nuts. Check.

6. Establish countdown on desktop that tracks time until bedtime Sunday evening. Being able to see the light at the end tunnel will help get me to the finish line. Check.

7. Create secret hiding spot that I can go to when we play hide and go seek over and over again. Finding the perfect spot may lead to not being found for hours and able to catch a quick nap. Check.

8. Make all important phone calls before girls get here. Nothing worse than starting a conversation with another adult only to be interrupted by having to scream at the girls to stop jumping from the top of the stairs, pulling each others hair out, digging for treasure in the fireplace, or anything that will lead to a trip to the ER or hours of cleanup. Don't want a friend or loved one thinking that I don't have control of my kids. Check.

9. Hide female roommates make-up products, scissors, and permanent markers. There will be no daddy makeovers, uninvited hair cuts, or art work on walls, tables, or hardwood floor. Check.

10. Offer incentive program to roommates to leave the house for the weekend. One took the bait of free utilities for the month by heading to San Diego, while the other will most certainly leave after a few minutes of seeing the chaos the weekend will offer. Can't afford to lose a roommate because they can't handle my kids. Check.

11. Have access to extra-strength Tylenol on hand at all times. Headaches are sure to come early and often. Check.

12. Continue to remind myself that my girls are the most important thing in my life. Their happiness depends on my behavior. Won't always be easy to remember, but I am counting on those moments when one of them says or does something that is so damn cute and perfect that I will have to scoop them and up and hold them as tightly as possible. Check.

Wish me luck as I proclaim myself ready for the weekend. Who knows what will happen, but I am sure there will be something to write about Sunday after they are in bed.

Answering mail

2009-02-19T19:41:00.000-08:00

A recent email I received about one of my posts. Guess there was some explaining to do.

Dear Coach,
I am an avid reader of your blog and loved reading your 25 things about you. I do have a question about one of your facts, though. Did you really say you were the kid from A Christmas Story? Did you feel guilty about having everyone buying drinks for you? I am not judging, I am just asking.
Sincerely,
A single Mom loving your blog

Here's my attempt to explain what really happened that night.

There were times in my life where I just didn't want to be me. Times where I wasn't a father and didn't always know what my purpose was for being here.

This was one of those times.

One week after coming to an agreement with my first wife that it would be best if we ended our marriage, I left for a quaint little town in the Western Sierras. I wanted to try and escape everything for the weekend. I went by myself in the hopes that I would not have to talk about my pending divorce.

It was to be a weekend of me just figuring out where I was going to go in my life. I had felt like a complete failure for not being able to make a marriage work, following the same path that my parents' marriage took.

The only solace that I took from the breakup was that my wife and I did not have kids. There was great comfort in that fact as I vividly remember the day my parents told my brothers and I that they were separating for good. It was not a good day for us boys.

My first day up there was exactly what I wanted.

I walked up and down the Kern River fishing for rainbow trout on a beautiful fall day. I caught a number of keepers and also caught something that I didn't expect.

I caught a glimpse of what my life would be like when alone. I liked what I caught.

I realized that some things are just not to be, and that I would be OK when it was over. I also found that I could find happiness in me. Ultimately, I am responsible for my happiness and it was time that I stopped looking for others to make me happy.

When I was to be with someone else again, I wanted this woman to add to the happiness that I already had in my life. They would be the cherry sitting on top of the nice big Sundae that I would make of my life.

Feeling content and satisfied with my day, I headed to the town's only bar to grab a beer and a bite to eat. Already crowded and with few seating options, I placed myself at the bar next to a man with his head buried in his hands.

I ordered my beer and waited quietly in the hopes of not being noticed. While I may have felt a lot better than before the day started, I still wasn't ready to share anything with anyone.

To no surprise, he saw me and started talking:

"Hey, your not a local. How are you enjoying it up here?"

"Yea, it was a great day of fishing. Thanks for asking. But, if you don't mind, I don't feel like talking. Is that cool?"

"No problem. I understand," as he said this, he began to look at me more intently. Then he popped the question.

"Wait, are you that kid from A Christmas Story? You look just like him. It's you, huh? That's why you don't want to talk. You don't want anyone to know who you are."

All I could think of was, what? Are you kidding me? Just because I was blond with blue eyes doesn't mean I am that kid. How was I going to respond to this to get him to leave me alone?

"Yep, that's me. So, please just let be left alone."

From there, it snowballed. He didn't let me be and began to proclaim to the bar who I said I was. It got out of control in a hurry.

People began to come up to me with questions and to shake the hand of the person they thought starred in the classic Christmas movie. They bought me drinks and I did play along with it for the two hours I was there.

I finally left and had a laugh as I drove back to the trailer I was staying in for the weekend. It was time to go back to facing the real me and continue working on what I had started earlier in the day.

I survived that divorce and another one since. The second was much harder for me than the first because this time I did have kids. However, after a few months, I was able to go back to what I now refer to as my "Christmas Story Trip."

Not, so I could go back to being someone else like I did in the bar. Rather, so I could once again return to being the person who was happy in being himself.

Like I was while fishing that afternoon.

My love for Al

2009-02-18T21:53:00.000-08:00

Al Pacino. My hero. The only man that I would say I have a crush on. A man's man.

The style, confidence, bravado, and all-knowing Al Pacino. There hasn't been a role he has played that I haven't taken a piece of and tried to incorporate in my own personality.

Whether it be the leadership qualities he possessed in the Godfather series, the combination of his self-deprecating and confident manners in A Scent of a Woman, or the fearlessness and determined Tony Montana in Scarface, Pacino has the it that I want. He is just one bitching dude.

I can recite line after line that he has uttered in his movies. I often do in my own life. A few examples:

"Just when I thought I was out they pull me back in.", said in Godfather III. I used it when I returned to coaching football after a three-year stint as a golf coach.

"I always tell the truth. Even when I lie.", said in Scarface. My favorite response whenever asked if I am bullshitting or not.

"There are two kinds of people in this world. The first group is the people who face the music; the second group are those who run for cover.", as Frank Slade in Scent of a Woman. I have used this with students who have found trouble.

One line that I have always wanted to use, but haven't found the right opportunity to is the famous, "Say hello to my little friend!" That scene from Scarface gets me every time.

The only appropriate time I have thought of saying it would be before sex. I have not in fear of ruining the mood.

Even as a parent, Al Pacino is in me. As a young child, I remember watching Author! Author! with my parents and thinking that he played a great father. He was a single parent who showed vividly how to handle all the challenges of raising kids on his own.

My favorite scene from the movie is one that I often play out with my own girls. After a long day at work, Pacino enters his house and begins to talk about everything he did during his day to his kids. He ends it by screaming "I forgot to beat my kids!", and runs around the house chasing his kids.

Ever so often when I come home, I calmly walk into the kitchen and begin to spew off details of my own day. Then I yell, "I forgot to tickle my kids!"

As soon as the words leave my mouth, my girls take off running all over the house with me close behind. They want to be caught. They need to be caught. And, sooner rather than later, they are caught.

I dive into them, tickle them to near tears, then leave them in a hump on the ground breathless. Each of them possessing a smile on their face that can't be beat.

It is the closest to being Al Pacino I can get.

Me and Hannah Montana

2009-02-17T16:48:00.000-08:00

I still remember the day I realized that my Dad was no longer cool. It was heartbreaking, shocking, embarrassing, and funny all at the same time.

I was a sophomore in high school and was enjoying a Saturday morning of laying on the couch watching a college football game. My viewing pleasure was interrupted when I received a phone call from a classmate.

The first sentenced that came from him changed the whole perception I had of my father.

"Brett, your Dad is in your front yard washing his truck in speedos."

"What?"

"No lie, man. My Mom and I just drove by and saw him out there. She was laughing her ass off. Just thought you should know."

As I hung up the phone, I hoped that my friend was messing with me and my Dad was not wearing speedos. I knew he owned a pair, however, to actually where them out in public? He couldn't, could he?

When I get to the front window and peered out, I saw that he could. We lived in a neighborhood where so many of my friends lived and he was out there in something that looked like a bottom to a woman's bikini.

Just thinking about that visual causes my stomach to knot up. It is a memory that I hope doesn't come back to me again.

However, that moment made me make a vow to myself that I would always try to remain cool in the eyes of my future children. It is a mantra that remains with me today as the father of four beautiful girls.

In an effort to further my coolhood with my children, I fixed my head on the body of Billy Ray Cyrus in a picture with his daughter Miley over the weekend. I then placed the picture of Hannah Montana and I on the desktop of my computer and waited for my girls to notice.

Their reaction was perfect.

"Dad, Dad, Dad..." yelled Shelby. "When were you with Hannah Montana? Savannah, Alani, come here and check this out!"

As the three marveled at the picture, I played coy in the kitchen while making their lunch.

"Dad, this isn't real,'' said Vannah, the oldest of the three. "Can you do this with us and put us with her? This is cool!"

It worked. I am still cool in the eyes of my girls.

As far as my Dad? He lives 12 hours away now. He can wear speedos whenever he wants and still be cool to me.

For more Wordful Wednesdays go to Seven Clown Circus.

Too much about me

2009-02-16T10:21:00.000-08:00

This might be more painful for me than a root canal. However, one of my three followers who is a relative asked, so she will receive. With no Novocain on hand, I am calling on a single glass of rum and coke to complete a list of 25 things about me.

Seems it is a pretty big deal these days on Facebook. So, here goes...

1. I can only remember one spanking that I received from my father. It was after I took a dump in the front yard while playing with neighbors. I was 4 and told by my older brother that I couldn't move because we were playing freeze tag.

2. As a 4-foot-3 third-grader, I realized I had little chance of becoming a pro basketball player and changed my aspirations to becoming a horse jockey. I won a speech contest talking about it in front of more than a hundred people. However, I have never ridden a winning horse.

3. I had an awful speech impediment and wicked crossed eye until I was in the fifth grade. Both were corrected when I had eye surgery as an 11-year-old. No one could explain why my lisp left me after the operation.

4. After my mom crashed our station wagon into a Winchell's Donuts, I asked one of the employees for a rainbow sprinkled donut from the back seat. They handed it to me through the car window.

5. In sixth grade, I waited with my brother Jason and my grandparents in a Chicago shoe store for three hours for the first delivery of Air Jordans. We proudly wore our new kicks on the plane ride back to California.

6. At a seventh grade dance, I was named the Best Modern Dancer after copying the moves of a classmate. He didn't talk to me for days after I collected the $10 prize.

7. I participated in a 5K race with my eighth grade PE teacher. He is now the Superintendent in the school district I teach in.

8. As latch key kids, my brothers and I would spend our summers home alone during the day. We killed our boredom by fishing over a wall in our neighbors gold fish pond. She had no fish left at the end of the summers and thought she had a cat problem.

9. My dad started a rather large fire in the kitchen by throwing water on a grease fire while making hamburgers for us boys. It was one of the first signs for me that he was human.

10. During a summer trip to Northern California, 90 percent of my body was taken over by a rash from poison oak. The next two weeks were the most uncomfortable in my life.

11. As a sophomore in high school, four friends and I snuck into a water park at night. We thought it would be cool to go down the water slides on skateboards. It was great fun until we reached the end with it's 8-foot drop into an empty pool. My knee still hurts from that fall.

12. I went to three proms in high school and never reached second-base with my dates. I am not sure what second-base is, but I know I didn't get there.

13. I lost my virginity in the house of one of my high school teachers. Thankfully, not with the teacher.

14. My football career ended by playing on a team that became the school's fourth section champion. The championship had little to do with my playing ability.

15. Trying to look cool, I got my ear pierced in college. One week later and with my ear three times it's normal size, Danny from Dad Gone Mad sat in a chair in the school's hospital laughing his ass off while a nurse carefully removed the ear ring. I never put one back in.

16. Working as a runner for ABC Sports, I walked in front of the camera on live TV during a pro bowling tournament. I was quickly fired and removed from the bowling alley.

17. The day I graduated from college, my high school football coach called me at 6 a.m. and offered me a teaching and coaching job. I was a little hung over but still managed to accept the offer without Coach noticing the state I was in.

18. After leaving teaching for three years to be a stay-at-home dad, I worked at a local newspaper at night as a sportswriter. During one summer on the job, the paper paid me to river raft down the Kern River, climb to the top of Mt. Whitney, hunt for wild boar, fish for Yellowtail off the Channel Islands in California, and jump out of an airplane from 13,000 feet.

19. On a trip I made after my first divorce to a mountain resort, I visited a bar after a day of fishing. While there, one of the other patrons asked if I was Peter Billingsly from the movie "A Christmas Story". I said yes and didn't pay for a drink the whole weekend. I even signed a few napkins, "Have fun and stay single. The You'll Shoot Your Eye out Kid."

20. Kern, Savannah, Shelby and Alani give me the greatest satisfaction and joy each day. They also bring me to a level of frustration that I never experienced before being a father.

21. I ran one LA Marathon in 2002 and walked it in 2003 with my former wife because she thought it looked easy watching me. Hearing her whine, cry and complain made the nine hour day miserable and enjoyable at the same time. It wasn't as easy as she thought.

22. While on my first date with The Most Beautiful Woman in the World, I couldn't remember where I parked my car in the Los Angeles Dodgers' parking lot. It ended up being the best part of the night as we spent over an hour talking as we made our way through a maze of 40,000 cars looking for mine. We still laugh at me telling her, "I feel like an ass for saying this... I have no idea where we parked."

23. I walked away from the coolest job I ever had three years ago to take over as the head football coach at my school. I was a college golf coach and played four days a week at some of the best courses in Southern California. I also got paid a helluva lot more than I do now. No regrets, though.

24. I have been asked by a reader and my daughter to control my language in life and in my posts. I haven't uttered any bad words so far in this and I am doing much better in my home. Pretty fucking good for me.

25. This post has taken me so much more time to complete than any I have written before... two days. At last, it is done.

Valentine's Day

2009-02-14T16:01:00.000-08:00

Those with love
Smile in the joy of having what so many of us desire
Embrace this perfect gift and remember what brought it to you
Every detail and loving gesture that lit the heart's fire
Should be continued through and through by you two

Those without love
The hope of love can be the greatest love of all
Beating inside you with what you seek out
Never compromise youself, never fall
For one day you will find love, there is no doubt

Trying to let go

2009-02-12T21:31:00.000-08:00

There are some days that I can't stop thinking about a lost friend. It doesn't matter what I am doing, or where I am, he just keeps coming to me.

To be quite honest, I really don't know how I feel about his constant entrance into my mind.

I know what I want to feel when I think about him... that we had a great friendship and great times together. What I get from thinking about him is a depth of sadness that I can't even describe. It is a feeling that I can only compare to when I realized that my last marriage was truly over.

Feelings of sadness of my last divorce are long gone, and replaced by knowing that it was the best thing for my girls and I. I am a much better person and father as a single parent than I ever was while in that relationship.

Which brings me back to my desire of being able to accept that my friend is gone. Maybe, if I can finally let go, I can move on in my own life.

It is something that I have been dealing with for almost 20 years. I am ready to move on and let go if that is even possible. I want to enjoy his visits and stop looking to run from them.

It isn't that he was so young (20), or that stupidity on his part led to his death that bothers me. There are people all over who die young and for stupid reasons. Shit happens. It may not be fair, but that is life and it happens every day.

What I can't seem to overcome is the feeling of why him, and not me? That's a hard thing for me to write, but it is the bottom line.

He always seemed to get the raw deal every where he turned. I, on the other hand, always seemed to have everything handed to me and I always landed on my feet.

Kelby was the life of the party and seemed to always draw people to him. He could make you laugh at any situation and never had a problem of being the butt of a joke. However, it was a mirage of sorts as Kelby dealt with more crap than any young adult and child should ever go through.

It was his battle with adversity that made me feel so much empathy for him. I would have done almost anything to give him just a sprinkle of normalcy that I had.

So, that's it.

I don't understand why he had to have it so hard for so many years. It never seemed right to me that he couldn't just get one break in his life before he died.

I have certainly had my own share of adversity. I have had not one, but two bouts with an illness that could have taken my life. That very fact makes me question why I have been able to overcome obstacles and he wasn't. I am glad I am here and don't wish that I wasn't, I just wish he was too.

While writing this, I am reminded why I started a blog. It wasn't to get awards, or get followers, or meet new people, or to even have other people read my stuff. All of those has been great and I am so appreciative of it.

I started a blog to help me be a better me. I also hoped to get the inside scoop on why I feel the way I do and think about my life. Writing is my vehicle and it has already helped me renew a relationship with my brother.

Now, I hope it can help me start to enjoy a relationship with my friend. I need to finally let go.

And, I need to stop asking why it wasn't me.

An award for you!

2009-02-11T22:28:00.000-08:00

I have wanted to do something for awhile, however, the consumption of beer over the years has killed too many brain cells for me to complete the job on my own. It was time to call in reinforcement.

Danny from King Deadbeat was kind enough to lend me a helping hand. And, I got tell you, he did a great job in doing so. My lack of creativity would have never allowed me to pull off what Danny did for me.

After receiving awards from some of my favorite bloggers, I was supposed to ship them off to other bloggers that I thought were worthy enough to receive them. However, after posting them on my site, I have never finished the task.

Oh, I gave credit to the award givers and even posted them with links back to their site. I just haven't finished the post I started that gave the awards to other bloggers. With job and parenting demands, I just have gotten to it.

That's not exactly the entire truth, though. In all honestly, Coachdad wanted his own damn award to give out that would mean something from me to the people I wanted to have it. I also wanted people to have little doubt who it came from when they received it.

The people who I want to have it are quite simply the people that I follow in this blog world and the bloggers who have enough taste to follow me. I have to say, all have blogs that I would be honored to have my award posted on their site.

So, here it is... the "On the Ball" Award from Coachdad!

It is an award that means to me that the holder has a blog that is timely, fresh, pleasing to the literary palate, and combines humor with honesty. Basically, the blog is such a good read that you have to keep coming back for more.

If you are a follower or I follow you, please take it and link it back to me. If you just happened upon my blog and like the award and want it, become a follower and have at it. As for as who to give it out to and how many you can give... you are free to do what you want with it as long as you believe that they are worthy enough to live up to its' meaning that I stated in the previous paragraph.

So, congrats to all who wants it. Take it and do what you want with it. Just link it back to me and leave me a comment telling me you are now "On the Ball!"

Wordful Wednesday

2009-02-10T22:56:00.000-08:00

I am not typically a sentimental person. I tend to live in the moment and don't hold onto mementos from the past.

That all changed when I saw the picture of my oldest daughter and I together in our football garb. It is a picture that I look at numerous times during the day and one that can bring me out of any funk I may be in.

Kern is the person who taught me what true love is supposed to be. Before she came into my life, love was something that I hoped to receive, and not always something that I looked to give. She changed that the first time I held her in my arms with her blue eyes looking into mine. I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life than those blue eyes.

Two days after she was born, I decided to put a hold on my dreams of being a head football coach and became a stay-at-home father. I would have never imagined that walking away from football and teaching would have been such an easy rode for me to take. It was a decision I never regretted and I am so thankful I made considering the relationship with her mother and I did not work out. It gave me two years of nine-hour days to learn how to be a father and how to truly love.

I owe everything I am as a father to Kern.

I went back to teaching after that time with Kern and started a new life with another woman. I had three more daughters with her before that relationship also came to an end. Today, those three daughters spend the majority of their time with me at my home. Kern is blessed to have a very loving mother and she typically spends every other weekend with us. I often worry that Kern is being cheated of having a relationship with her father that her sisters have with me. It is during those times that I look back when she was a toddler and try and rekindle moments of us together with no interuptions from anyone else.

Times like the two of us together with arms around each other on the football field captured in the picture. Just looking at it motivates me to create more moments like that every day.

She deserves that from me.

(For more Wordful Wednesdays go to Seven Clown Circus)

Cometh and Goeth

2009-02-09T22:59:00.000-08:00

I solved my roommate problem Saturday morning at 3:30 a.m. with one bad case of misjudgement. One man's misfortune really can be another man's gain.

Who would have known that a few too many beers and an unruly tongue would bring my lifelong friend and the person my daughters call Uncle DJ back into my house? This was one night where I was glad that Bud Light got the best of Uncle DJ.

What he did or said is not important, the only thing that mattered was that his beautiful fiance was done with him and he was back in my home. Just thinking about the prospects of us living together and the good times to be had sent waves of excitement through me.

It was to be our own version of Dumb and Dumber or Step Brothers to be lived out on a daily basis. The only difference was our movie would include my four and his two daughters.

It would be perfect. Playmates for the Dads and the girls. Who could ask for anything more?

We had gone down this road before and had a grand time living together. Taking turns entertaining the kids, going to movies as one big happy crew, barbecuing dinner as the girls swam in the pool, and ending the day with ESPN on TV and a beer in hand as our daughters were fast asleep.

It was as much fun as two heterosexual men would want to have with each other.

Ahhhh... what an incredible turn of events for me. If I had found a renters two months ago when the rooms became available, this could never have happened. I couldn't help but think that it was destiny for him to be back.

We played baseball together as kids, went to middle school and high school together, and now teach and coach together at our alma mater. The stories and adventures we could share would fill a best-selling book. A book never to be written as the fear of embarrassing and humiliating loved ones has been too strong for us to put it to print.

After listening to him discuss what happened the night before all afternoon, we resumed our normal routine of kicking back and enjoying UFC Fights Saturday night. The girls played until they were dead-tired and were asleep before 9 p.m.

All was right in my world.

He was gone all day Sunday refereeing basketball games and then attending his daughters' softball team meeting. Afterward, he was to head home and we were going to watch the Lakers' game I recorded earlier in the day.

It was supposed to be a great ending to his first weekend back in the house.

The only problem... he never came home. I continually looked out the window through out the night, only to find an empty spot where he parked his truck.

All I could think was, "She couldn't have taken him back, could she? Not this time. They have to be done for good."

My worst fears were realized Monday morning back at work.

"Dude, were back together,'' DJ said with a huge smile. "I'll get all my shit out of the room tonight from your place. I am not going to fuck it up this time. I love that woman."

"That's awesome,'' I replied. I surprised myself by actually meaning it. "You better not mess it up again. She is a great woman."

She really is a great woman and I am happy they are back together. He always seemed most at peace when he was with her.

However, now I am back to looking for another roommate.

Ready for work

2009-02-08T20:49:00.001-08:00

I am tired. Dead tired. Tomorrow my girls have the day off from school and I am glad I have to work.

They wore me out this weekend. I have nothing left. I can't believe that I am looking forward to teaching 200 high school kids tomorrow and not staying home with my precious angels.

There are days where the daily chores of being a single father can be more overwhelming than anything I face as a high school PE teacher. Today, was one of those days.

My girls wanted and needed everything. It never ended. At the end of it all, I felt like I was a pinata with my daughters taking turns swinging at me. They never missed.

Not with the typical baseball bat, but with request after request that hit me hard and often. By 7 p.m., I was ready to throw in the towel and cry mercy.

However, it was to no avail. Even a heart-felt plea fell on deaf ears.

"Girls, please, let me just have a break. I am done. I can't do it anymore tonight. Ok?"

My girls adore me and I really thought my little fit would get them to understand I had hit the wall. I was wrong.

Shelby put me in my place with her response.

"Dad, you are our Dad. You have to do it just like we have to clean up after we play. Why are you getting upset? You chose to have us, Dad."

"Shelby, I am glad I have you. But, I am tired. Can I just have a few minutes to sit down?"

"Sure. But, can you make our dessert first? And, don't forget, you promised we could all play Go Fish. And, I get to pick out the book you read to us tonight, remember?"

"Yea, I remember Shelby. Let's go. I'll rest when you guys go to sleep."

I also remember why having to work tomorrow doesn't seem all that bad.

Help us all

2009-02-07T15:40:00.000-08:00

If you turn on the local news in Southern California the last couple of days, you would think that we were under attack.

News vans in every suburban city, residents rushing to the local Walmart to grab supplies, conversations in line at the bank yesterday centered on how long the suffering would continue, and cable/satellite and internet services flickering off and on had it's customers wondering how long it would it last.

What's going on in the land of movie stars, surgically-enhanced body parts, and just your every day quacks that reside with me in one of the most populated regions in our country?

Rain.

That's it. Fucking rain. I am embarrassed to even admit it. Rain is turning Southern California into a scene that resembles one you would find in the movie Independence Day.

It started on Thursday and has continued sporadically ever since. In my desert community, we even had some hail. I even had to pull out a jacket with a hood last night when I went to my basketball game.

Where is Barack Obama and government assistance when you need it?

Already a bitch to drive in and around Los Angeles, the weather has made local drivers even harder to handle. A trip that normally takes five minutes to take, now takes 30 minutes as drivers limp through every intersection at the first sign of rain.

Throw in the want-to-be NASCAR drivers who continue to drive 20 miles over the speed limit and you get a reported 104 accidents in Los Angeles in the first nine hours of the storm. Makes you want to just stay home and watch TV.

The news is what entertains me the most on raining days.

The first 15 minutes of the newscast is dedicated to the weather. The economy and the Senate's impending vote on the recovery plan would have to wait. Forget about getting any real news.

Thanks to TiVO, I couldn't help but continually rewind reporters interviewing residents and how they are dealing with the phenomenon of water falling from the sky. Here is my favorite:

Reporter: "How are you handling all the rain?"

LA resident: "We are trying not to go out in it. I know we need it, but it has just been so much. I am afraid to even go out and drive in it. My husband has been in the garage making sand bags just in case we need it. We just hope we can make it through the weekend."

Reporter: "Well, thank you. Good luck to you and your family."

Make it through the weekend? Are you kidding me? It's rain and according to the Los Angeles Times, LA has had a grand total 1.47 inches in two days. Reports are a new storm is supposed to hit Southern California some time Monday.

Please pray for us as we go through this tough time.

Wordful Wednesday

2009-02-04T19:20:00.000-08:00

I wasn't going to participate in this week's Wordful Wednesday. In fact, after posting one two weeks ago, I pretty much decided I was done with the weekly event.

No offense to Angie at 7 Clown Circus, in fact, I love her site and have been a follower for three of the five weeks I have been blogging. It's just that I am not a photographer and I don't even own a camera.

However, you see the picture above? I got it an email today and had to laugh. Not just because the sight of this on the road would be hysterical, but because this actually happened to the guy I have worked next to for the last 10 years.

What makes his story even better is that Coach Chicken Soup actually did it in a school van. With students in it. Students who made sure that we all heard about it back at school when they returned from a track meet in Las Vegas.

Coach Chicken Soup got a little frustrated on the way home and was eager to get back to Southern California. So eager, he forgot about the whole put the nozzle and hose back on the pump thing and drove off with it attached.

After sending more than $500 of his own money to the Vegas gas station and enduring many laughs from students and co-workers, Coach Chicken Soup thought he had finally put that incident behind him. Then I got the email today.

"Hey, Rob... Come check this out. Look, you are not the only idiot in the world."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, without getting up.

"Get over here. You'll be glad you did."

As he got up and started walking over to me, I slowly began to slide away from my desk. I wanted to be as far away from him when he saw the picture. He tends to get a little touchy when anyone brings up the topic up to him.

One look at the screen and the only reaction I got out of him was, "You're a real ass, you know that? You really think your funny."

Not really, Rob. But, that picture is funny.

Stopping the dream

2009-02-03T14:25:00.000-08:00

Every couple of weeks, I have a dream that wakes me from the deepest of sleeps. It is a dream that both confirms the deep love that I have for my children, and illustrates just how vulnerable we are as parents.

The dream varies which child is involved and what exactly they are doing, however, the outcome and effect it has on me is always the same. It is an outcome that is so strong emotionally for me that it actually affects me physically.

Knots in my stomach, sweat on my forehead, and a deep hot burning sensation that seems to run from my chest, up through my neck, and down into my arms. It is such an overwhelming feeling that I am unable to fall asleep until it subsides.

On Monday, it was Alani who woke me.

Sweet little Alani who seems to find fun in the little things and who is becoming less dependant on her sisters for attention. She can entertain herself for hours with a single doll, coloring book, or even a basket of clothes she dives in and out of trying on different outfits.

It was Alani's new-found independence that took her away from me in my dream.

In the dream, it was a Sunday afternoon and Kern was spending the weekend with us. Like it has been so often lately, it was a hot Southern California afternoon. All four girls were playing in the front yard, while I was in the garage looking through boxes of books.

My girls were alternating from taking turns on the scooter, to digging in the flower garden, and to drawing on the sidewalk with chalk. The laughter that came from the yard was so pure and innocent.

There are some sounds in life that I just want to be able to hear when I want to hear them. Waves crashing, a stream running over rocks high in the mountains, the roar of the crowd after my football team scores, and my children's laughter.

The moment of serenity was interrupted with, "Dad, can the girls and I go in and get something to drink?" Kern said. "It is hot and we are thirsty."

"Sure. Do you need my help?"

"No, Dad. I am 10, not two."

With that, she ran back into the front yard and headed into the house with her sisters. After a few minutes, I went in and saw them in the kitchen as I carried a handful of books up into the living room.

When I got done putting the books away, I went to the kitchen to see what kind of mess was being made by four girls under 11. Only problem was, there was only three girls in the kitchen.

"Where is Alani?" I asked.

"She said she wasn't thirsty. She is still drawing on the sidewalk."

We live on a street that is like a cul-de-sac, a circle of houses with only one entrance to go in and out. However, I still don't like the idea of a 4-year-old out in front by herself, so I hurried outside.

She was gone... not in the garage, not on the scooter, not coloring the sidewalk, and not in the flower garden. Everywhere I looked, she wasn't there.

Gone.

This is where dream world meets real world.

I am never able to see the outcome of what happens to my girls in dreams like this one. I don't know if it is because I won't let myself see it, or it's the fight or flight response taking over as I spring up in an upright position on the bed and look around the room for any sign that it was only a dream.

Confirmation never takes long. However, the fear and anxiety of losing one of my daughters stays with me.

On nights that I have my girls, I have to go check on them as they sleep. Just watching them breath and hearing them snore calms me and I able to return to bed. On nights I don't have them; I have to believe they are Ok and will be back with me in a day or two.

Anything to stop the dream.

You asked for it

2009-02-02T20:55:00.001-08:00

I have been getting emails and comments asking me for updates on some prior posts, so here goes...

Ending a relationship
Smoking is still something that I can't escape from wanting every waking moment of the day. It is a battle that is made even more difficult with a roommate who is constantly smoking. So... I have had a few days in the last three weeks where I had one. I refuse to give up my efforts to kick the habit and I am going to make an appointment with my doctor to ask for some help.

In another update, I asked What's next??? after Savanna asked me, or told me, to stop cussing around Alani. I have curtailed the foul language around my girls and Alani hasn't said fuck, shit, ass or bitch in more than a week. Pretty fucking cool, huh?

Stay away kids... please?
Some things actually turn out better than you think they will as my girls were absolutely wonderful yesterday during the Superbowl. We all ate a lot and watched the game together. As soon as they got a little out of control, I simply asked them to go into the room and they did without putting up a fight.

They really are great girls 90 percent of the time. My Dad used to tell me that he looked forward to when I had children so I could feel the pain that I caused him as a child. Well, here is more pain for you Dad, my girls are so much better than I was. Ha Ha!

My brother Jason
Ready for this? I woke up Saturday morning and had a message from Jason saying he was glad to hear from me and detailed the comings and goings of his life. We talked a few times over the weekend and basically caught up on what has been going on the last ten years for us both.

We spent the last quarter of the Superbowl chatting about the game through IMs on Facebook. It was great and we agreed to do it again soon. Jason is now a follower of my blog, and he even left a comment on the post I wrote about him.

Thank you Facebook!

Stay away kids...please?

2009-01-31T14:00:00.000-08:00

My girls are coming home tomorrow after spending the last three days with their mother. When they leave, I take a deep sigh of relief and enjoy a little piece and quiet. However, it isn't too long after their departure that I am ready for them to hurry back to me.

Tomorrow isn't one of those days. May God strike me down for even uttering the previous sentence. But, it's true.

Stay away girls... let me have tomorrow all to myself. Let me enjoy the last football game for the next seven months all on my own.

Despite the plea, they will come and take every bit of my attention away from the the big screen TV. Oh, I'll try and watch, but it will be fruitless.

My girls will try and let me enjoy the game. Bless their heart, they really do love me and want me to be happy. But, any attempt on their part will be short-lived.

They will soon forget about Daddy wanting to watch the game and will request to put a puzzle together with me, or go for our Sunday afternoon walk, or cause me to run to the aide of one of them while the others are beating the hell out of her. Just your typical Sunday afternoon fun in my house.

I have tried everything in the past to get them to enjoy a game with me. I make snacks, sit us all down together, and start trying to teach them the game I love. But, it never works.

They ask questions like, "How come they don't just run away from the others guys? They keep running right into them. That's dumb." I have never have the right answer for them and the question keeps coming up.

Or, they start complaining that the cheerleaders aren't on TV enough and it is dumb that they don't get to be on the field. While I agree a little more cheerleader shots would be cool, I certainly don't think they should be the focal point like my girls do.

As hard as it is for me, I am slowly coming to the realization that it might be best to forget about trying to watch the game. You can't get disappointed and upset about them ruining my viewing experience if I don't watch the game.

To those who will be hooting and hollering it up at home or at a party, I say the hell with you. I hope your cable or satellite goes out right before kickoff.

Why should I be the only one to miss the game?

My brother Jason

2009-01-30T22:49:00.000-08:00

I am quickly finding that the first sign that I am getting old is when I try to call someone on a Friday night and I am unable to get a hold of anyone. It's 9:30 p.m. and everyone I have tried to reach has already called it a night.

Normally, this doesn't bother me, but I wanted to talk. Sometimes, writing isn't enough. I wanted feedback... instant feedback.

Writing will have to do, though.

After getting home from coaching a high school basketball game, I clicked on my laptop and went straight to reading my email. One caught my attention right away:

Brett,

What's up man? Thanks for the invite to our class reunion and I look forward to seeing you there. I noticed you don't have an account on Facebook. I have looked for you multiple times to no avail. I did find someone you might want to get a hold of on there. Your brother Jason. I remember you telling me at our last reunion you haven't talked to him and had no idea where he was. Just thought you should know he is on here and you probably want to reconnect with him. Good luck to you if you reach out to him.

Sincerely,

Andy

I must have read that email 20 times before I walked away from the computer. I was shocked and couldn't believe that I may have found a way to talk to my younger brother again. Of all the places to try and find him, it never occurred to me to look on a website that so many of my co-workers had raved about. I had not followed their lead by creating my own account.

I felt like I had no need to. The people I want to talk to, I already do. Finding my soul mate wasn't something that I desired, I already have her with the Most Beautiful Woman in the World. I didn't want to sign up with a website that might give my students insight into my personal life.

Ironically, I did set up an account on Facebook just one day earlier. I did it because I was selected as one of three to try and locate people from my graduating class and inform them on the details of our impending reunion. It was to be the only reason to go to Facebook.

But, a chance to find my brother might be the reason to finally embrace Facebook. He is one of three brothers I have, but the only one I have no relationship with. I have seen and talked to him just once in the last 10 years.

He left my life after a dispute with my father over payment of a truck he bought from my Dad. Despite not taking sides, Jason took off for Washington and then Canada without saying a word to me. There is also speculation in our family that he had some issues while serving in the Army and that is the reason why he left the country.

Jason once told me what occurred when he was in the Army, but it never seemed like it was reason enough to leave his country and family. I really don't know what is true and not true about why he is gone. I really don't care why he left.

He's my brother and one of the few people in the world that really knows what it was like to grow up the way we did. He knows what is like to have a loving mother who had troubles picking her kids over the bottle and men. I have forgiven my mother for her past, but it was a past that was hard on all us kids.

He was one of the few in the world to know what it is like to have a father who loved you but at times had trouble showing you it with his words and actions while we grew up. I love my Dad and owe him so much for where and what I am in my life. He did the best he could as a single father and I thank him for it.

Quite simply, my brother is my brother, and I want any semblance of a relationship with him. I am done being bitter about him leaving and not reaching out to us. I used to think that if it was important enough to him to call or write me, he would.

After reading the email from Andy, I am done waiting for Jason. Maybe, he is embarrassed or ashamed for his departure and hasn't been able to swallow his pride. I have learned when it comes to family and to the ones you love, pride only leads to you being alone.

So, at 9:25 p.m., I sent my brother a request to be my friend on Facebook. I hope he accepts and becomes a friend of mine in life.

More importantly, I hope we can become brothers again.

Hot Dad?

2009-01-29T20:40:00.000-08:00

I have been asked to be a contributor to a new blog called Hot Dads. I find this to be quite funny since the only time I consider myself hot is when I am fuming over one of the many things my daughters do to upset me.

Things like, two of them fighting over a Barbie doll when there are 10 others on the floor next to them. Or, the four of them playing dress up with clothes that I have just folded and put away.

And one that has bothered me the most lately, asking me for something to eat all day long and then claiming not be hungry when I have made dinner. That one really gets me hot.

If this is what they mean by being hot, then I am hot.

The mission of the Hot Dads was stated in the first post by Bedside TalesMan, "to create a central place where dads, who want to be heard, can voice their opinions - while also giving the disgustingly huge community of mommy bloggers a place to hear what us guys have to say about parenting and life."

Well, hell, I am game for this.

In fact, I am honored to be asked to contribute to the new blog. My first post will be up Friday and it will be one that I have already had up on my blog. I got the invitation today while teaching and I didn't think I would have time to write a new post.

So, check it out and tell us what you think.

Parenting technique

2009-01-28T21:50:00.001-08:00

I am becoming an expert on parenting. Or, at least at one technique that has been working wonders for me lately.

Some may say my methods are a little extreme. To them, I say you have never been a single father of four daughters under 10.

My method is the often-criticized but underutilized tactic of brainwashing. I have mastered it so well, I would be fine with one calling me the Jim Jones of parenting.

Tell your kids something and repeat it enough times, the desired outcome eventually happens. The key, as with most things in life, is repetition, repetition and more repetition.

With almost everything that happens, I have a simple sentence that corresponds with an activity. Pretty soon, my kids know exactly what I want to happen and how it should happen.

From the mundane every day tasks to the lessons in life that will keep my children on the right track, I have a saying for it.

When my youngest daughter was an infant and suffering from a seizure disorder, I was constantly taking her to Doctor appointments. The nurses were telling me what to do and not do when raising children. One of the ones that stuck with me, was when a nurse told me, "When you are changing and cleaning your daughter, make sure you wipe front to back. Otherwise, you are just wiping everything into her vagina."

Wow, now there is something I would never known, but it made sense. I followed her advise, and then began to tell my daughters front to back after they were potty-trained.

When they head out of the bathroom three years later, they still tell me, "Dad, I front to backed. You don't have to ask."

I often wonder how long they will continue to tell me that when the exit the bathroom. I hope not much longer.

Other examples are, "Food in, mouth closed", "Dad gone, pool closed", "Multiple flushes when pooping", and the one I tell them the most, "Say no to boys and drugs."

It is the last one that I hope prevents what gives me the most nightmares as a father. They can drop out of school, join a cult, become a vegetarian, do just about anything but become a teen mother or have a drug problem. I have seen too many teens as a teacher who had one of the two, if not both, happen to them.

My daughters are going to be attending the high school I teach and coach at, and the last thing I want is to be known as is the coach with the drugged-out or pregnant teen daughter. I'll love and support them if it happens, but I am going to do whatever it takes to prevent it from happening.

I started saying it to them when they were still in car seats. When I would leave them at daycare, the single women thought it was cute as I would drop them off with a kiss and a "Say no to boys and drugs" farewell.

There still hasn't been a day that I left without saying it to them. While my others sayings can actually be applied by young daughters on a daily basis, I never really knew if they understood what I was trying to convey to them with the boys and drugs thing.

That changed for me recently with an outing to the park.

I was sitting on a bench reading a book as my girls were playing on the swings. Looking up, I noticed a boy walking toward Shelby as she exited one of the swings.

The two of them talked and as they did, Shelby kept looking over at me. She finally put her hand up in the air toward the boy and then sprinted to me with a question.

"Dad, Dad, Dad, " she said, while huffing and puffing from the run. "That boy wants to know if I can play with him. Is it Ok? I know you always say to say no to boys, but I don't think he has any drugs. So, can I?"

It took everything I had not to fall over with laughter as I told her she could play with him. The hard work paid off, and just hearing Shelby ask the question was music to my ears. I didn't even need any of Jim Jones' Kool-Aide for Shelby to remember what I have been preaching for years.

I told you I was an expert.

Male chatter

2009-01-27T21:22:00.001-08:00

After a weekend and last night in a house with seven females, I was ready for some attention from a man. I am completely secure in my sexuality, so I have no problem making that statement.

Who could blame me?

After all, I just spent three days playing Barbies, painting fingernails, running to the local pharmacy to grab tampons for a roommate, and hearing about the discomfort of hot flashes from the house mom. Doesn't anyone in my house know that I am not one of them? I mean, shit, I do have testicles!

This morning when I walked into work, all I wanted was some good ole male conversation with the other PE teacher who shares an office with me. I knew he would be up for some football talk, or chatter about the sex we didn't have this weekend, and maybe even some arguing over whether or not Heath Ledger should have received the Oscar nomination for his role in The Dark Knight.

Any of that would of been have been great and exactly what I needed. I knew he wouldn't disappoint me.

"Morning Coach, what's up?" I said, waiting anxiously for his response.

"Hey... You should have seen the Chicken Soup I made for dinner last night. I made it from scratch."

I cook and take great pride in it, but, really? Are you kidding me? This is what we were going to talk about? Who traded the male chauvinist I was used to working with for Betty Crocker?

"Really? It was good?" I said, trying to sound interested.

"Oh yea, even my son liked it and he doesn't like anything. Don't you hate cooking something for your kids and they don't touch it? That's him all the time."

Almost as much as I hate where this conversation is going. But, Ok, well that has to be the end of it. Time to move on to something else, right?

"It was awesome cutting up everything and actually cooking it myself. You should have smelled the house... it was like we were in the kitchen of some great chef. But, it was me!"

"Oh, yea?"

"I never thought that soup could be a meal in itself, however, it was so rich and full of vegetables and chicken. I was full after one bowl. I made plenty... I brought some if you want to try it at lunch. You'll love it."

"Sure, Rob. I'll try it. What part of the chicken did you use?" I asked, hoping his answer would lead to the type of conversation I wanted.

"The recipe called for a whole chicken, but I bought these big chicken breasts and cut it up in big chunks. I like the breast the best." Bingo... he took my bait.

"Me too, Rob. I have always been a breast man."

Finally, we were talking like men.

Fighting sleep

2009-01-26T21:03:00.000-08:00

Laying in bed last night, I suffered from insomnia. Instead of fighting it, I let my mind take me where ever it wanted to go.

Most nights this happens, I wish I had a court reporter inside my head, writing down everything and every where my mind takes me. This night, one wasn't needed.

First stop, was a camping trip I took with my still-married parents in Yellowstone National Park. We were what a family is supposed to be... laughing together and enjoying each others company while catching trout in one of the many lakes the beautiful park had to offer.

My Mom, as I like to remember her as, holding her son's hand as they walked gathering firewood for the evening's fire. Dad back at the camp with my two brothers gearing up the fishing rods for the next morning's outing.

It was a trip that I hold close to my heart as it was the last one we took as a family. A memory that I always welcome with open arms.

Then my mind takes me to my third grade class and next to a beautiful girl named Pam Day. I haven't thought of her since grade school and don't really know why she has entered my thoughts 29 years after the one year we spent together. It is not my job to question where my mind takes me, rather, it is my job to simply enjoy the ride.

Pam looked just like the young Jenny in Forrest Gump and she was all I could think of for a year. I followed her around everywhere and she seemed to like it despite running from me most of the time. I wonder where she is now, and hope she is happy.

Without warning, I am off running the streets of Los Angeles with 29,000 other runners in one of the biggest marathons in the country. With every step, pain shoots up and down my legs as if I am running on an electric current that enters through my shoes. As much as it hurts, I can't and don't stop.

An overwhelming sense of accomplishment sweeps through me as I lay in bed, just like it did when I crossed the finish line in 2002. It is a feeling that I hope to be able to duplicate on demand the rest of my life.

From there, I am sitting on the Santa Monica Pier looking at the Most Beautiful Woman in the world. I can't keep my eyes off her as I try to work up the courage to grab her hand and place it inside mine.

I never do get the courage to reach for her hand, but three years after that night, I do get to hold it on occasion. I hope I am holding that hand when I am old and walking on the pier again with her. It is with that last thought, that I finally succumb to sleep.

I wonder where my mind will take me tonight.

And the award goes to...

2009-01-26T20:09:00.000-08:00

I am in a giving mood. And thanks to Diane from Diane's Addled Ramblings, I actually have something worthy to pass on to some friends.

Midway through a day of teaching, I received an email from Diane telling me that she had given me my first blogger award. It's an award that I was honored to get from someone who I would definitely call a friend.

She gave her reasons for giving me the award in a post today by saying, "He's funny. He's cool. I just like him." Smart woman. She really does know me.

Thank you, Diane. I really appreciate the thoughtfulness and the time you spend reading my blog. Just so you know, you are way cooler than I am.

So, on a day that I received my first award, I will reciprocate by passing the award on to others.

The envelop please:

Slapdash Thinking - If Diane thinks I am funny, she needs to check out Slapdash. The posts "I'm Sure I am Not the Only One" and "How I know when the "Force" is with me." are must reads and will bring you back for more. After reading my post on drinking too many shooters, she commented, "someone you might know may have had a similar shooters experience..." She is too cool.

daily momsense - A single mother who gives restaurant reviews and has a way of saying so much with so few words. My favorite post I have seen so far is simply a picture of a glass of wine with a box of hair color next to it. On top of the picture is the question, "Was this a good combination?" It would have made a great next post if it wasn't, however, it turned out to be a success after all.

Violet in the Middle - Anyone who likes the Mayfair Witch series by Anne Rice as much as I do deserves an award. So, here is your second award in the last two weeks Violet!

Thank you Diane for the award and letting me pass it on to others. And to everyone who commented on the email I received yesterday, thank you for the encouraging words and helping me realize what is really important.

Friends Award

Good times missed

2009-01-24T13:30:00.000-08:00

The biggest coaching clinic in Southern California is going on as I write and I am at home. It's only the third clinic I have missed since I have been a football coach and I am going through some serious withdrawals.

It's the economy that kept me from going.

Seems our high school district can't justify paying for some coaches to spend money on hotels and clinic fees when they are struggling to supply books to its' students. Can't say that I blame them, but damn, I am missing out on some serious fun.

Oh, I mean I am missing out on some great opportunities to learn some more football.

At last year's clinic, I picked up a new offense that we implemented this past season and hired a great coach that knows more football than I may ever know. In fact, he knows so much about football that he quit my staff shortly before the start of the 2008 season.

He must have knew we were about to go through a 1-9 season and left before any one could blame him for our lack of success. Like I said, he knows football.

Sitting here thinking about what I am missing out on made me think of some of my favorite moments at past clinics.

Like the time when a coach you might know who writes a blog spent a whole day on his hotel room's balcony calling a friend who was standing outside three floors below. As soon as his friend would head inside his room to answer the phone, the coach that you might know would hang up and then laugh hysterically watching his buddy flip him the bird when he returned outside.

However, eight hours later his coaching friend would get revenge. The coach that you might know got stuck 12 miles away from the hotel when he hitched a ride with some friends from college to a bar. When his friends refused to let him drive even though he was the only one sober, he refused to ride back and called the coach he had hung up on earlier the day.

Needless to say, the coach you might know had a long walk back after hearing his friend on the other end of the phone say, "Yea, right... your on the balcony right now. Go to bed asshole."

Good times.

Or the time when the coach you might know was called on stage by the current head football coach at UCLA in front 1,500 of his peers. After dropping pass after pass while trying to demonstrate a drill with the UCLA coach, the coach you might know was sent back to his seat and replaced by someone who actually had the athletic ability needed to finish the drill.

More good times.

Or the time when the coach you might know walked into a bar with 20 of his friends and tried to act like a high roller by ordering a tray of Watermelon Shooters. When the tray of 20 shots arrived to him, all of his peers had left and were pursuing the attention of women.

I lost count of how many shots the coach that you might know actually finished, but I do remember his night ended with him handing a woman $20 to be used at a dry cleaner of her choice after he threw up the shooters on the back of her dress.

That one still gives the coach that you might know trouble when he spends time with his coaching friends. For some reason, they get quite a laugh out of remembering the coach you might know handing over his last $20 to a complete stranger.

I could go on for hours telling stories about the clinic and the coach that you might know, but I am pretty sure he'd like the rest to be untold. He'd rather sit back awhile and think about next year's clinic.

Three weeks and counting

2009-01-23T21:04:00.000-08:00

When I started writing a blog three weeks ago, I did it for my sanity.

Not that I was afraid I was one foot in the door at the local psych ward. Trust me, I have been there before and I know what that feels like.

I also know that I am no where near that point, and that I will never be there again. I have never been happier or more content in my life than I was at the start of the year.

But something was missing and I knew I needed and wanted more.

What I was looking for was an opportunity for me to do something that I enjoy doing and that didn't cost anything as far as time and money goes. It is not often that my life allows me a positive outlet to let loose a bit and let it all hang out.

Writing has and will always do that for me.

What I have found by writing the prior 17 posts is exactly what I hoped to find: a place that I could say anything with out the fear of being judged for what I was thinking or for whatever may be going on in my daily life as a father or as a teacher.

Where else could I tell someone about my foul-mouthed daughter, my zipper being unzipped in front of a crowd of high school kids, or pour out my feelings for a grandmother that has given me so much in my life? Before now, there was no place.

In my first post, I wrote what I hoped to gain from starting a blog and that I expected to do it with little or no audience. I honestly didn't think or cared if anyone would be reading my stuff.

So, when I have written my posts and have come back three or four hours later to find the number of comments and the things that have been said to me, it has been overwhelming. I can't tell you how much it has meant to me and I can't thank you enough.

It is funny that the people that I know the most, and who deal with me on a daily basis, don't really know me. And the people who have read what I have wrote, but wouldn't be able to pick me out of a crowd of people, probably know me the most.

So, thank you so much for reading. Whether or not you come back and read again... I'll keep writing. But, it would be cool if you did come back.

What's next???

2009-01-22T15:10:00.000-08:00

I got some parental advise from my seven-year-old the other day. She is concerned with the way I am bringing up her little sister - the 4-year-old who thinks she is 18.

Seems Savannah is trying to make up for the fact that I don't have their mother around to make sure I don't screw my kids up too much with the way I raise them. Cute for sure, however, what the hell does she know about molding a young child?

After all, I have been doing it on my own for four years and aside from telling Shelby to hide a quarter her in mouth to keep it away from Savannah two years ago, I think I have done a pretty good job. (Shelby would go on to swallow the quarter and we would end up spending the rest of the day in the emergency room.)

In addition to making sure they are provided for, I read to them every day, help them with homework, play games with them, let them apply makeup to my face, wake up at a ridiculous time on the weekends to make them pancakes, and never go out at night because I feel guilty about them spending so much time with a babysitter while I work.

What could I possibly be doing wrong?

"I just think you need to do some things differently around Alani,'' Vanna said.

"And what is that baby? Don't be afraid... just tell me."

"You need to stop saying bad words around her. Me and Shelby know that just because you say them doesn't mean we can. I am worried Alani will be saying them all the time at school when she starts Kindergarten next year. It's bad, Daddy."

Wow. . . just like that, I was speechless. She had a point. I do spew out four letter words a lot in the house. I don't direct them at my girls, but they leave my mouth quite regularly. And Alani has gotten pretty good at including them in her own vocabulary.

I always tell her not to, but it hasn't seemed to deter her too much. It probably doesn't help that the girls and I laugh after hearing Alani talk as if she is walking the halls of my high school.

Some of her classic sayings that have brought laughter from her siblings and I include:

"What the fuck did you do that for?" Said after I hit the back of her mouth while brushing her teeth recently.

"This is bullshit... I am going to play with my Barbies." Said after being frustrated at losing when playing the game Sorry with the rest of us.

"Dad, don't you think Hannah Montana is cool as shit?" That one needs no explanation.

And her favorite and one that was said recently while I had some coaching friends over watching an NFL playoff game. "More fucking football? Don't you watch anything else?"

Did I mention she is four?

After replaying all this in my head for a few minutes, Vannah brought me back to the present by asking me, "Don't you think it will be your fault if she is cussing in class next year and in trouble all the time? What do you think she is going to say to the teacher when she is told that snack time is over?"

I answered her, "What the fuck? I am not done yet."

"Yea, Daddy. You have to stop it around her."

She was right. Son of a bitch, she was right. I gave up smoking last week, now I have to stop cussing?

I hate to think of what's next.

Wordful Wednesday

2009-01-21T21:31:00.000-08:00

Yes... that is three puppies and a piglet sleeping next to mom. Do you think Pappa Dog had questions for Momma Dog? Meg from life's free treats was kind enough to send me this picture for my daughters. Thanks Meg and hope you don't mind me using it!

Check out more Wordful Wednesday posts at 7 Clown Circus.

Reading an old story

2009-01-21T16:35:00.001-08:00

I am a people person and a people watcher. Given the choice of going to see a movie or heading to an outside coffee shop to strike up a conversation with anyone and everyone, I'd probably skip the theater.

Everyone has a story and I am always willing to listen. It was what I enjoyed most in my prior life as a sportswriter. While co-workers were fighting over the opportunity to cover an NBA or MLB game, I was content heading out to talk to a local athlete or coach to hear and then write their story.

While looking for a book in my garage this afternoon, I found a box of some of my old articles and began to reconnect with some of my favorite people that I interviewed. I loved hearing their stories, and rereading them made me feel like we were sitting down and talking all over again.

One story always stood out as my favorite and it had nothing to do with me being the author. It was a story the wrote itself. It was one that would make anyone have the utmost respect for the story teller.

It is a long, but his story is one worth hearing. I changed the names and places, but it remains the same.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bill Jones remembers exactly what caused him to turn his back on his mother. It wasn't the death threats he was receiving on a regular basis. It wasn't the fact his name was in the paper every time there was a story about his mother.

It wasn't that he was routinely on the news, seen opening and shutting the front door of his home with television camera crews parked in his front yard. It wasn't the constant questions he got from friends, or anybody else he ran into, that ultimately caused him to seclude himself in his house.

And lastly, it wasn't a suicide attempt by his mother that caused him to leave.

Jones had no problem handling all that. He handled it just like he did when he took on an offensive lineman as an All-Silver League linebacker at AB High in 1986. He handled it head-on. But what Jones couldn't handle, still can't, and never will be able to handle is that his mom thought she was right.

"My mother never seemed to accept the fact that what she did was wrong," Jones said. "It was a mess and I didn't want to be a part of it."

Jones remembers the night it happened as if it was yesterday, but tells the story as if he was talking about someone else. Facts followed by more facts, with little or no emotion.

It was a warm night on Aug. 30, 1989, when Jones got a phone call from his younger sister, Christy. He rolled out of bed at 12:33 a.m., picked up the phone and heard his sister say, "Mom shot Keith. You have to get over there. You have to see what happened. You gotta see what is going on," Christy told him.

Jones had no idea who `Keith' was. Never saw or met him.

He quickly dressed, jumped in his car, and followed the directions his sister gave him to the house of the shooting.

Jones didn't have far to drive. After a couple of miles, he remembers driving over a hill and looking down at the house that already had "like 15 Sheriffs" parked in front.

He saw his mom sitting outside the house. Then, shortly afterward, he saw the body of Keith Farmer, who was just 23, being wheeled out of the house.

"After that, and from that point on, everything was really not knowing what was going on," Jones said.

What went on was his mother, Belinda Johnson, was facing murder charges. She posted a $100,000 bail and spent all her free time trying to convince anyone who would listen - including Jones - that she shot Farmer to protect her daughter.

Christy Jones had dated Farmer briefly, and even stayed with Farmer a short time before the killing. Johnson thought Christy was using drugs that she believed were provided by Farmer.

Christy had suffered from a heart murmur since she was a child. It was a disorder that - coupled with the drug use - Johnson believed would lead to her teenage daughter's death.

When it came time for the jury to decide her fate, they returned a verdict of first-degree murder. The sentence was 27 years-to-life - a sentence Johnson is still serving.

Bill Jones already had left his mother's house when she went to trial. He left, went out on his own - his father died when he was 3 - and never looked back. At first, he tried to believe the stories. He tried to support his mother. But the more he looked at the case and thought about it, Jones knew it wasn't right.

"I tried for a time to think that what she did was legitimate or something because these were people, and not that anyone deserves to die or anything like that, they were just trouble," Jones said. "I found out later that my mother was the same way. She was with those people. She took drugs and she was in all that stuff. That was her lifestyle. It wasn't mine. It's not what I did. I totally didn't identify with that. The fact that my mother seemed to think that it was everybody else's fault. I had a real big problem with that."

He remembers hearing about the verdict on the news. A verdict that Jones, to this day, thinks was fair.

"She doesn't deserve to get out," Jones said. "If you are going to believe in something, you gotta believe in it all the way. I think if you take somebody's life, you should have to give up yours. It doesn't matter who it is. It's not like all of a sudden it changes. Blood is not thicker than water. It doesn't represent so much more. For some people it does, but it is more like an excuse."

When all was said and done, Jones was alone, left with no family at the age of 20. He and his sisters were divided over the question of their mother's motives. Jones, meanwhile, was left wondering what to do.

He started by taking odd jobs, working long hours while living with friends, then on his own. College was never something that was brought up when he was younger. Jones' one semester in college in 1988 was only a way to continue his football career. As soon as the season ended, Jones dropped out.

Growing up the way Jones did helped in many ways. He was very independent. He remembers having to cook his own meals, starting when he was 6. It wasn't unusual for his mother to sleep all day, while Jones and the girls were left to fend for themselves.

"Above all, the thing that hurt me the most was not having direction and guidance," Jones said. "We were always alone, my mother always left me by myself. So now, I am just kinda fine being by myself. As much as I would like to be close to other people, I am not."

After all the odd jobs, Jones began to do one of the few things he loves. In 1992, he went back to his high school and began coaching the freshman football team. It didn't take long for Jones to have an impact at his school - or for coaching to have an impact on him. He called the defense on a team that went 9-1, with a perfect 5-0 record in the Silver League.

"I think a person has to grow up real fast when something like that happens, and he did," Head coach Burt Coleman said. "I admire him for what he has done for himself and in the coaching profession. He has worked hard to get where he is in coaching."

That year of coaching lit a fire in Jones - a fire that still burns with him today as the Lincoln High defensive coordinator. Jones' defense is the best in the Valley and second-best in the Southern Section. The Eagles have given up just over 170 yards a game.

Football always has been Jones' escape. It always has been something he could rely on for success. The only people Jones calls friends are former teammates and coaches with which he has worked. Even during the bleakest, most isolated moments, there's been football.

"There are always tough times," he said. "One thing that has always been an escape is on Thanksgiving morning when you're at football practice and you don't have to worry about it."

Jones clearly has moved on. He has gone back to school and is just over a year away from graduating from Cal State Bakersfield with a degree in Criminology. He now has a future, one that includes teaching and coaching.

"The things I feel good about are football matters," Jones said. "That is what keeps me going. That, and looking forward to finishing my degree and getting all those things for myself. Football is the one thing that has kept me balanced, kept me happy. It is the one thing I could find success in. Everything else could fall apart around me, even with the family."

Since Jones left before his mother's conviction, he has seen her just once. He received a letter from her during the 1996 football season, asking him to visit. After battling with himself, he finally went in March of 1997 in the hopes of relieving some of the built-up anger. To say the least, Jones was disappointed.

"Basically for the couple of hours I was there, all she did was tell me how everything was against her," Jones said. "I wanted to hear that what she did was wrong. How bad she felt for hurting all of us, and destroying all of us kids. And the separation that it occurred, dividing us up so bad. She didn't accept any kind of accountability for that whatsoever."

If Jones is sorry about anything, it is that his future children will not have grandparents from his side of the family.

"I miss the fact that I can't love her," Jones said. "I miss the fact that she is not there and I will never have a grandmother for my kids, or a grandfather. That bothers me."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was more than ten years ago and I still get goose bumps reading his story. He is now a husband, father and a successful contractor.

One can't help but think that if he can overcome his obstacles, we should be able to overcome ours.

Room for rent

2009-01-20T15:13:00.000-08:00

I am considering sending an email out to all employees on my campus. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Tell me what you think.

Dear fellow staff members,

I am looking for a roommate to join me in the house of horrors... I mean, house of fun. Requirements are you must be willing to live with one 37-year-old male who resides permanently on the couch in front of the big screen, a 50-year-old woman who bakes endlessly to stop from going insane, two 19-year-old girls who continually are shuffling in and out enough teenagers to fill up of one of our classrooms, four beautiful girls under 10 who are constantly looking for adults to give make-overs, three dogs that think they are cats, and four cats that are intelligent enough to stay out of the house. Other requirements are, but not limited to, being able to handle my dirty laundry always residing on the floor next to the washing machine and my clean clothes resting on top of the dryer, me cooking spaghetti every day as it is the only meal my children enjoy, Spongebob always playing in the background, my goatee trimmings in the bathroom sink, toilet paper that has only one sheet left at all times, a toilet seat always up, an empty refrigerator, barbie dolls taking naps on every step of the stairway, weekend wake up calls at 6 a.m. from a 4-year-old screaming at her father to make breakfast, the only quiet moment in the house being at 2:34 a.m., and the thermostat on the heater glued at 58 degrees. So, if you are about to be kicked to the street by your wife, or simply want to go some where that will make you feel better about your own life, email me back. Oh, I need a first month and a deposit ASAP.

Sincerely,

Your Football Coach

Think I will get any takers?

Be careful with your comment

2009-01-19T08:36:00.000-08:00

I made one comment too many over the weekend. Now, Ronda is making me pay for it.

A whore for comments on my own blog, I always leave something after reading someone's post. I can honestly say that it is not because I hope they will reciprocate. Rather, I know how good it feels when you have been read and I want others to know that there is someone who is reading what they write.

After visiting one of my favorite sites, Ronda's Rants, I left a comment after reading her answers to an interview by another blogger. Her interviewer had some great questions and she took a lot of time answering them all. So, what was my comment?

"Red is my favorite color as well."

Good stuff, huh? Not really.

Ronda must have felt the same way and is now going to make sure I say a little more by asking me my own set of questions she came up with. I want you to notice there is no favorite color question.

Stupid me already answered that one.

1. My oldest son played baseball and football for most of his childhood and teen age years; even now, at 29 you will find him on a field playing football with great passion. What kind of life lessons do kids learn playing football or any kind of team sport?

I believe there are so many lessons learned by playing a team sport. For starters, I believe that kids learn that if they want to be successful at something they have to work hard and be dedicated to working hard. Secondly, if they want to have success as a team, each athlete has to realize that they have to work together to achieve a common goal. One person who has their own agenda will only hurt the team's chances of a successful season. Lastly, they learn that they may not agree with the coach or like the coach, but in order to play and be successful they have to follow the lead of the coach and buy into what he/she is selling. I believe all this traits are vital when one goes out in the real world and begins his/her career.

2. I read your letter to your grandma and I was touched by the love it conveyed...Do your girls have a close relationship to their grandparents?

It's funny how parents are so much different as grandparents. My Dad is incredible and has an limitless amount of patience with them all. I have no complaints about him as a father, however, he is so much softer and easy going with them. It is awesome to see. His wife is equally loving and never seems to tire when playing with them. They live in Oregon, so we don't see each other very often. However, they email each other and talk on the phone once a week. It means a lot to me that he is so good with them. My mom has never seen them and I wish it wasn't that way. I hope it happens before she passes away. She has had a hard life battling alcoholism, but she is a good person who has been very sick of late. I talk a lot to my girls about her and show them pictures of her. Unfortunately, that might be the extent of their relationship.

3. One of my best friends is a single Dad living In SF Area and even though he has been divorced for many years, he struggles with his relationship with his EX...What advice would you give him?

I may not be the best to advise any one on this matter as my ex and I have really had some rough moments since the split. She kicked me out when our youngest was three months old. My daughters and I left and got an apartment and it wasn't easy. I was real bitter and it was real hard for me to try and have any conversation with her. I'd say try to remain as civil with her as possible for the sake of the children. There is no person that pushes my buttons more than my ex and it is very hard for me at times to remain calm. However, nothing ever good came out of me losing my cool. Never, never, never bad mouth their mother in front of the children. My parents did that at times and it affected me and how I viewed both my mom and dad. No matter what I feel about or think about my children's mother, I never say anything in front of them. She is the only mom they have.

4. One of my favorite books is Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird and I noticed on your profile you listed it as well? Why do you like it?

The most perfect book ever written. If I was on a deserted island and could only have one book, it would be Harper Lee's. It tackled social issues like no other, showed great love of a father to his children, had a narrator in Scout that you couldn't help but love, and reminded us what it was like to be a child with the antics of Scout, Dill, and Jem so beautifully portrayed. It is inconceivable to me that Harper Lee has never written another novel. If you read my post about calling author George RR Martin on the phone, it may not surprise you that I have Harper Lee's home number and address. However, I have never had the courage to call her. She is an icon to me and I wouldn't know what to say.

5. I noticed that in your first blog you write about the difficulties about all the hats you wear in your daily life! It tickled me that your girls are all photographed wearing hats! But....of all the hats you wear...which one is the most difficult and why?

Each of them can be tough, yet, I love wearing them all. There are times though I wish I could switch my schedule around and parent my children during the day and work as a teacher at night. It frustrates me at times that I allow a long day at work dictate how I am as a parent. If I had to pick which was truly tougher it would have to be the parenting, though. There is so much riding on how I parent and how my kids are raised. I don't want my kids 30 years from now being messed up because of the way I raised them. I just want them happy, well-adjusted, and able to take on the world with confidence and respect for others around them. Little overwhelming to think that I will have a huge influence on whether or not that will happen.

Thank you Ronda for the questions and I hope I answered them well enough for you. I promise the next time I leave a comment on your blog, it will be worthy of what you have written. If you haven't visited Ronda's Rants, click on her link on my page and take a look. It is worth the trip.

Just leave a better comment than I did.

Now it's your turn if you would like me to interview you just leave a comment and I will email you the questions! Here's the directions:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. (I get to pick the questions).
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Looking to be led

2009-01-18T10:54:00.000-08:00

I am not a political pundit and have never claimed to be. I am a wannabe jock who has been blessed to make a career at playing games.

It is something that I sometimes can't believe that I get to do on a daily basis. I am a kid at heart and my job has allowed me to remain one.

However, this past political season has made me enjoy the game of politics. Much like following the NFL, MLB, or NBA season, I found myself glued to the television watching our Presidential race.

Along the way, I like to think we as a country have found what my generation has been looking for my entire life. It is something that I don't think our country has had for almost 50 years.

I love the '60s. They had at it all.

Great iconic figures nearly every where you looked. Causes that rallied the country around and against each other, and political figures that changed the course of history for our country.

As a child of the '70s and '80s, I always felt cheated and almost like I grew up in the wrong time in our country. We had no Beatles, Elvis, Janis Joplin, Bob Dylan, Jim Morrison, or even a Cat Stevens. We had no polarizing causes like the draft, Vietnam War, or Roe vs. Wade. Politically or scoially, we had no Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, or JFK.

It was as if I grew up in a time where we were waiting for someone to come and lead us in the right direction. We had a few political leaders that did seem as if they had the right stuff in Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton.

However, they both had major flaws with Reagan's involvement with the Iran-Contra Affair and Clinton's affair with Monica Lewinsky. Both Bush's certainly didn't have or give the country what it needed.

Growing up with a Republican father, I always identified with the conservative point of view. I was born into it and it was all I knew. However, working in a field that is dominated by liberals has opened my eyes to their cause. This has left me wondering what side of the fence do I stand on, politically speaking.

The only way I know how to answer this question is by looking at how my life was affected when each party was in control. What I found is that my adult life really wasn't any different whether a Bush or Clinton was in the office.

Any struggles that I may have suffered during my life have been self-afflicted. No one living at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue can be blamed for my poor choices that I have made. Would be nice if I could, but it would not be true.

I know I am a financial mess. I don't mind knowing I am a mess. I don't mind being a mess. What I mind, is people expecting the government to take care of my mess. I guess that is the Republican in me.

So, when this last political season began I fell victim of watching every primary or caucus, every debate and every interview any of the candidates may have been involved in. I couldn't help myself and was especially transfixed by the race between Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama.

If either won, it would be historical for obvious reasons. However, there is something about Obama that drew me to him.

He had a presence about him that made me think that my generation finally had its historical icon. I am not naive to think that Mr. Obama is going to fix our current economic crisis over night, or eliminate the problems of the Middle East, and he isn't going to stop terrorism.

There isn't one person who can do all that on his own. What I want is Obama to truly lead the Republicans and Democrats to work together to conquer those issues.

I want Obama to bring our country back from one that is divided down race lines and one separated by economical differences between the haves' and have nots'. But not by doing it for us, but rather, by leading us and motivating us to do it on our own individually as a country united.

Every time he talks, I feel like I am hearing another JFK telling the country, "Ask not what your country can do for you... ask what you can do for your country."

You won the election Mr. Obama, so now it is your turn. Take us and bring us back to a country that we can be proud of again. Lead us there and we will follow.

Last laugh

2009-01-17T08:21:00.000-08:00

Two years ago, I googled a friend from college in the hopes that I could reconnect with him in some way. Not necessarily to communicate with him again, more to simply find out what he has been doing with his life.

I do this quite regularly and usually to no avail. However, when I typed in Danny Evans' name I was rewarded by finding his blog, Dad Gone Mad. It was a great find. . . I was able to learn that he is married with two kids and working in the marketing business.

But more than just finding out about his personal life, I found out Danny is still Danny. I really enjoyed hanging out with Danny in college, and by reading his blog, it felt like we were hanging out all over again.

Three to four times a week I read his blog and I really admired him for being committed to it. We share a common thread in that we both were journalism students at Fresno State and yet neither of us are working in the journalism field.

I loved the fact that he had found an outlet for his writing bug and I often wondered if I too could start a blog of my own. Two weeks ago today I finally said, "Fuck it, I can do it."

As much I have enjoyed writing, I still love to go read what Danny is up to.

Yesterday, Danny wrote about a gift that he has in being able to identify the age, the sex, and sometimes even the name of a person that he hears fart. As moronic as this may sound, I have to admit, it was a great read.

It made me think this morning about a gift that I have and always have had. The gift of gab, wit, and sarcasm. A co-worker calls me the walking one-liner and I really enjoy finding humor in situations or in people.

It has been with me throughout my life, and has sometimes gotten me in a little bit of trouble. I embrace it though and find that it entertains me. I really try not to use it to hurt other people, but sometimes when the mood strikes, I can't control it.

As a high school teacher, there are times when a student says things to you that you would never dreamed of saying when you were in school. Things like, "Fuck that, I am not running a lap. You run it fat ass."

This can have a way of getting you a little amped up. So, I usually fight fire with fire. I almost always win and the problem usually goes away when the rest of the class is in uproar with laughter after I have turned the tables on the student with my tongue.

It is not often the student a gets payback, but one certainly did last night.

Shortly before the start of our school's girls basketball game, I walked into the stands to talk to a group of students. I love interacting with the kids and hanging out with them. I was surprisingly in a good mood and I really enjoyed being in the stands with the students.

(I say surprisingly because as some of you read, I quit smoking Wednesday night and have yet to go back. It has been a bitch, but thanks to the many tips and encouraging words I have gotten from you, I have handled it better than I thought I would.)

After ten minutes of talking with kids and having them all laughing hysterically, I started to head down to the bench for the game. As I was leaving, the students were laughing louder and I couldn't help but think how cool I was.

Then a student yelled over the laughter, "Hey, Coach?" It was one of the students that I had a problem with this week. One of the ones that I humiliated after he had some unpleasant things to say about my mother.

I turned around and headed back up, anticipating round two.

"What's up, Jeff"

"Coach, what are you doing?"

I started getting a little irritated at where this was going and knew I was taking his bait, "What do you mean, what I am doing?"

"Are you trolling or something?"

"Trolling?"

"Yea, I mean your zipper is down. You advertising to all the mom's that you want something... are you trolling, Coach??"

I would like to say that the laughter in the gym wasn't that loud and noticeable as I turned away and quickly zipped. But, it was deafening. Everyone was pointing and laughing and all I could do was laugh back.

That shouldn't really count as getting me back, though. I served it up to him. It was like pitching a professional baseball player an underhand pitch... he better hit a home run. But, I gave credit, where credit was due.

"Jeff, it seems you got the last laugh. Congrats. That doesn't happen often to me"

I walked back to the court with whatever dignity that I had remaining and resumed my role as an assistant coach. Throughout the game, I could hear a small group chanting, "Zip it Up, Zip it Up, Zip it Up."

It was unpleasant and funny at the same time. My only hope is that it will remain at the basketball game and be forgotten after a three-day weekend.

I doubt they will forget, though.

Ending a relationship

2009-01-15T14:05:00.000-08:00

I dumped a loved one last night after 10 years of being together. It isn't the first time I have done it, but I hope it is the last time.

The three prior times I stopped the relationship, I quickly ran back to it after a month or two as soon as I had faced adversity in my life. It was always there for me and if given the opportunity, it always will be there waiting to embrace me with open arms.

Ironically, I will have a harder time with the breakup than it will. It's as if it knows that I will be back.

Not this time, though. I can't go back after hearing these words from my daughter.

"Daddy, I saw on TV today that smoking can kill you. Is that true?"

My heart sank just hearing the way she asked me. Shelby seemed so upset about what was about to come, despite not knowing the answer.

How do I answer that question without upsetting her even more? More importantly, though, how can I live with myself knowing that my habit was causing my daughter to worry about my mortality.

As hard as it was for me, I answered her with the truth.

"Yes baby. Cigarettes can kill you. It doesn't happen over night, but it can cause you to get sick and maybe even die."

"Then you have to stop... please Daddy."

My daughters have asked me to stop smoking before, but never the way Shelby did. It was the first time where I could actually see the pain in her face at the prospects of losing me.

So, last night at 10:15 p.m., I smoked what I hope to be my last cigarette. It has to be my last cigarette.

In my life, I have climbed to the the top of Mt. Whitney (the highest summit in the contiguous United States with an elevation of 14,505 feet), jumped out of an airplane, and ran in and finished two Los Angeles Marathons. However, if I am successful in quitting, I will view it as my greatest personal accomplishment.

That's how hard I know this is going to be. Smoking isn't just something I did, but it became part of who I was. As a casual drinker who has gotten drunk in the past, I can say that I have never miss getting drunk or drinking at all.

Smoking will be missed for me. A non-smoker can't understand, but smoking and I did have a relationship. I turned to it for everything. I truly loved to smoke.

That's why today was as hard as I thought it was going to be for me. All day I had thoughts of smoking and wanting so bad to bum a smoke from a co-worker. It truly was something that I could not get out of my head no matter how hard I tried.

Fortunately, though, Shelby's face and the way she looked when pleading with me to quit also kept popping into my head. It was that thought that kept me from going back to smoking.

At least for today.

I view my blog as a mirror of sorts, the way I that I see myself. While I may have been able to lie or mislead other people, I have never been able to lie to myself when looking at a mirror at the end of a day.

So, I will never lie to my blog about whether or not I have smoked. I hope that this will also help me quit as I will have to face my blog at the end of each day. Wish me luck and feel free to offer up any tips that may have helped you or anyone you know who has successfully quit smoking.

There is nothing better than having friends who prevent you from going back to a bad relationship.

New titles

2009-01-14T16:27:00.000-08:00

You ever wake up in a bad mood and it never leaves you? Well, maybe not a bad mood, but everything you see or hear promotes sarcasm and cynicism.

That was me today. I actually found it quite funny and pleasurable.

At least it was for me. I am sure there were plenty of people who were glad to hear the last bell ring and see me leave school for the day.

Throughout the day, sarcasm was oozing out of my mouth like a leaky faucet that couldn't be fixed. To save face with co-workers and students who were on the other end of my jabs, I'd rather discuss how this mood affected me when I got home.

Sitting on the couch and flipping through the movie channels, I began to attack movies and the titles that they had. I hate when you tune into a movie and find that the title really doesn't give a you a fair indication of what you are about to watch.

Uncontrollably, I found myself renaming movie after movie to better fit what it was really about. Here are a few examples:

Home Alone - Not a bad title, but would have been better as Home Alone: We left him on Purpose. If you had a son likes this, would you take him on a plane all the way to Europe? I hate everything about Malcaulay Culkin and never found him to be the cute kid he was portrayed as in his movies. I was rooting for Daniel Snyder and Joe Pesci through out the movie.

The only MC movie I enjoyed was Good Son, naturally because he died in the movie. The only change that would have made the movie better was if the last scene where he fell to his death from a cliff was moved to the first scene.

Grease - I understand that they were a bunch of Greasers who like to work on cars. However, wouldn't this title be better? What I had to go through to sleep with a Blonde Prude. A little long, but it fits. Hiding feelings from friends, trying to earn a varsity letter, and drag racing in the Los Angeles River seemed like a little too much work just to bag Olivia Newton John.

If John Travolta liked Stockard Channing's character, the movie would have been over in five minutes. Instead of Summer Nights as the catchy song in the beginning of the movie, we would have had Easy Nights with a chorus something like this:

It so damn Easy,
Being with a girl who is easy
Easy loving, Easy loving, Easy loving
Loving me some easy, easy nights

Star Wars - This might be the best series of movies ever made. I can't help but think that Mr. Lucas might have missed one more movie for it, though. Maury Povich Heads to Space. Maury could have ended any controversy over whether or not Darth Vader was Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia's father. Can you imagine the tension and build-up leading up to Maury proclaiming, "Darth Vader, you are their father!"

I would have paid to see it.

Juno - Absolutely loved this movie... but could be more helpful to teen girls if it was called Here is what Happens when you Sleep with a Cross Country Runner. Sleep with a football player and you don't have to worry about getting pregnant. They are likely sterile due to steroid use.

The Sun Also Rises - An oldie, but a goodie. Title is not bad, just needs a little tweaking. How about, The Sun Also Rise, but his Penis Doesn't. I know a lot people who have read this book or watched the movie and wondered why Jake and Brett don't just hook up. This would clear up any confusion.

Step Brothers - I love Will Ferrell, but if you have seen this, you have to agree that it should just be Dumb and Dumber: The Dumbest! While it is sprinkled with some entertaining moments, most of the movie is spent wondering can there really be two people more stupid than these two? Should just be a sequel to the next movie.

Dumb and Dumber - Wait a minute... this actually works. However, which one is Dumb, and who is Dumber?

What do you think? Have any that you can think of that work? Would love to see them if you do.

I actually found this quite enjoyable and allowed me to save my daughters from the wrath of my tongue.

Trading places

2009-01-13T13:31:00.001-08:00

I got a call from a sportswriter yesterday asking me if I knew any high school football coaches who would not be back next year. My first response was asking him if he was referring to me.

If he knew something about my future, please tell me. I just finished a season where we won just one game... it didn't seem far-fetched for some newspaper to wonder if I was going to be fired after the season we had.

After he laughed at my response for a few seconds, he politely said, "No, I wasn't suggesting you should be fired. I just heard that someone you might know was on his way out. But, if you tell me there isn't anyone you know of, than I believe you."

And that was the end of it. Or, at least, I thought it was the end of it.

While walking a few laps as a Physical Education teacher with some of my students, I noticed that I missed a call and had a message from my mentor and former head football coach.

"Hey, Brett. Happy New Year. I just wanted you to know that I talked to Brandon last night and he informed me that he resigned as football coach. I was shocked and just thought you should know."

If Coach was shocked, I was dumbfounded and bewildered by the news.

Coach is Brandon's dad and coached us both in high school in the late '80s. We both went off to college and later came back to work for the old man until 2002 when he finally retired after coaching for 30 years at the same school.

The logical choice to take over for his dad was Brandon. He had been around the football program since the day he was born. He was a ball boy for his Dad until he was in high school and he seemed destined to continue the winning tradition set forth by his father.

However, shortly after his dad announced his retirement, Brandon was hired as the head football coach on an Indian reservation in Arizona. It was a school that hadn't won a game in years, and in five years, Brandon has won four to six games in each season.

It may not seem like he accomplished a lot in wins and losses. However, he is almost a hero on the reservation for the the turnaround he had created.

I remember talking to Brandon after a win during his first season and he was laughing about how well he was treated by the Indians on the reservation. After each win, Brandon would go home to find packages of deer and elk meat carefully packaged for him on his doorstep.

I stepped away from football after both Dad and son left to try and put my life back together. My marriage had just ended and I thought it would be best to focus on being a single father and not worrying about working for a new coach that I didn't know.

I never regretted my decision to hang up my whistle and exchange it for diapers, bottles and car seats. That time was the most challenging and rewarding time of my life. But, I did miss football. I hoped that some day when my kids would be a little older and able to hang out at practices and games without my constant attention, I could go back.

When the new coach walked away from coaching football after three seasons, I took the job and have given it everything I had for the last two years. I have loved every minute of it and have taken great pride to coach at the school that I graduated from and one that is rich in tradition.

While Brandon was his Dad's ball boy for so many years, my four daughters can be seen on the sidelines during games working as water girls. They love being around the cheerleaders and football team and think it is pretty cool that their Dad is the Coach.

When Brandon and I worked together as coaches, he used to give me hell about having a wife at home calling every five minutes wondering when I would be leaving. Brandon was married to football and I can honestly say that I cannot remember him going on a date while we worked together.

It was, and always seemed to me, to be football and football only for Brandon.

That changed last May when I drove to Arizona and was his best man in his wedding. In October, he called and told me that he and his new wife were going to have a child this Spring.

And now he has stepped away from football. With everything that has changed in his life for the better, maybe I am not all that shocked with his decision.

After all, I walked away from football before so I could be a father to my babies. Now, it's his turn.

Best of luck Brandon and enjoy every minute of it. I know I did.

Money matters

2009-01-11T12:48:00.001-08:00

Today's lesson with my kids was on the importance of saving money. Since I have a combined $236.33 in my savings and checking accounts until the end of the month, I may not be the best role model for my kids.

This definitely qualifies as one of those "Do as I say, not as I do" moments. There are a lot those in my household.

But, nevertheless, it was my duty to get my kids on the right track when money is involved. It is going to be a challenging task to say the least.

Over the weekend, my second-grader has been finding change all over the place. In two days of looking, she has amassed just over $5 in quarters, dimes, nickles and pennies. After spending over an hour counting and recounting her loot, she was ready to go shopping...

"Dad, can we please go to the dollar store? I can buy five things. Five, Daddy!!"

"Baby, why don't you save your money so you can buy something better a little later?"

"What's better than five things from the dollar store? I can get a pencil, crayons, a notebook and two bags of M&M's!"

She certainly had already mapped out a shopping list. However, I tried to use reasoning to get her back on my side.

"Listen... Why don't I let you look on the internet and you can see if there is anything on the Toys R Us page you would want. Ok?"

She agreed to take a look and I left her to do some window shopping, so to speak. Two hours later, she had an impressive list. Nothing on the list was close to costing $5. A sample of what she had found:

1) Carnival Games for Nintendo Wii
Price: $39.99

2)Baby Alive Potty Training
Price: $34.98

3)Barbie & The Diamond Castle Playset Doll and Pet
Price: $92.99

4)18" Girl's Disney Fairies Bicycle - Huffy
Price: $99.99

5)Nintendo DS Lite Onyx
Price: $129.99

She was really excited about the list until I explained to her how much more money she would need to get each item. Disappointment was written all over her face.

"Do you know how much longer I am going to have save to get them? It's going to take me for ever! But, I'll do it... I guess."

As she walked away from me with her money and headed upstairs, I told her I was proud of her and the decision she made. She turned around to me and I thought she was going to say thank you. I was wrong.

"You are just glad you don't have to take me to the dollar store. Now, you can keep watching football."

Wow... she is smarter than I thought.

Motivated by another blogger

2009-01-09T21:37:00.000-08:00

As much as I have enjoyed my first week writing in my blog, I may have enjoyed reading other blogs more.

An avid reader for the last 20 years, I love to read the written word and admire how different people express themselves by writing. I have been motivated and stimulated by what I have seen this week and look forward to the time I spend seeking out other blogs.

While reading others tonight, I found myself needing to write a letter after reading life's free treats. The latest entry was about the art of letter writing and how no one seems to do it any longer. Meggie talked about how she treasured letters she had held onto for years and how she still enjoys pulling them out and reading from time to time.

I don't remember the last time I wrote a letter to anyone, but reading this motivated me to write to someone that I have neglicted far too long...

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Dear Grandma,

It has been almost two years since I saw you and I can't tell you how much I miss you and our visits. I know I should call more often. I can tell you how busy I am teaching and coaching, or I can tell you how much time it takes to try and to do my best raising my little girls...but there really is no excuse. After all, a phone call takes just a few minutes to make.

I guess what I want you to know is how much you mean to me and how much I loved spending time with you and Grandpa. Over the years I have periodically been asked who my heroes are... with no reservation I have answered it has been and always will be you two. I can't imagine a greater pair of role models. You are everything I want to be in life, and everything I want to have in life.

Having been married and divorced twice, I can't tell you how much I envy you two and the relationship you had. I can't imagine being married for 60-plus years like you two were. I am not naive to think it was always easy, which only makes me respect this great accomplishment even more.

But more than just being able to make a marriage work for so long, your greatest accomplishment is in the kids you raised. A registered nurse, an aeronautical engineer, and a President of a bank. All have been incredibly successful in their careers, no doubt because of the pride in their work and desire to do everything to the best of their ability that you and Grandpa instilled in them.

Aside from what they have accomplished professionally, they have all remained close with each other and would do anything for you. What more can a parent ask for than that? You have truly been rewarded for your great work as a parent.

I often look back at the times we spent together. Spending the summer in Chicago and the summers you flew out here to Southern California were truly some of the greatest times of my life. Watching you walk off the plane every time you flew out here was a moment that I looked so forward to and one that I still relive today.

There are times when one of my daughters wants to climb into my lap when I am having a long day or just want a moment to myself. As soon as I start to push her away, I think of you and how you were always there for me to climb into your arms or rest my head in your lap as you ran your fingers through my hair. How can I turn down my daughters after remembering how you never turned me away?

I can't imagine how lonely you have been since Grandpa has passed. Please know that you have a grandson who thinks of you often and tells his children what a wonderful Grandma I have in you.

I promise you this year that I will do a better job of calling you on a regular basis. But even if I don't, I wrote this today because I wanted you to have this with you whenever you may be thinking, "How come my Brett hasn't called me in awhile?" I want you to read it so you can know that there is no one who can admire you more, respect you more, and simply love you more than I do. I also want you to know that I will always be YOUR Brett.

Your loving Grandson,

Brett
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Grandma and her grandchildren

Thank you Meggie for your wonderful post and motivation to write a letter. Ironically, your blog is named life's free treats... I can't help but think that a letter from a loved one would qualify as one of life's free treats.

I can't wait to mail my Grandma a treat from me in the morning. She has certainly given me so many in my life.

Here's to Guilt

2009-01-07T21:57:00.000-08:00

It is not often that I embrace the feeling of guilt.

Who does? It's an emotion that makes us feel like we screwed up and is notorious for not letting us forget about it.

Today, I was glad to feel guilty.

Laying around and enjoying the pleasure of complete silence in my house, I realized that I had left my cell phone upstairs the night before. Confident that I had probably missed a call or two, I ran and grabbed it from my nightstand.

I already had 13 missed calls and four messages. One message stood out from the rest.

"Hey man, our girls are having Lunch on the Lawn today at school and we should go,'' said my lifelong friend who my kids refer to as Uncle DJ. "Call me back and we can go up there together.''

I am a single parent and have my kids fifty percent of the time. My kids went to their mother's house yesterday morning and will be there until Friday afternoon. I had no idea about today's big day at the school and planned on enjoying one of my last days of vacation at home alone.

Despite the message, I tossed the phone on the couch without returning the call and tried to go back to doing nothing. I am a high school teacher and coach and after a rough football season in the fall, I felt like I needed and earned a break from it all.

I was going to sit on the couch surfing the web and watching rerun after rerun of SportsCenter. The only thing I was getting up for was to get anything and everything I desired from the kitchen. To hell with everyone and everything else!

Then guilt hit me and hit me hard. It was as if it was coming at me from every direction and all I can do was picture my beautiful second-grader walking around by herself while her friends were at lunch with their parents.

Quickly, I grabbed the phone and called DJ and told him I was ready and looking forward to going. He didn't need to know that just minutes earlier I was completely Ok with blowing it off.

As soon as I walked into the school's cafeteria I spotted my daughter in line to get some cardboard looking piece of pizza with a cup of corn. After seeing that, I then started feeling guilty about not making lunches for her and taking the easy way out by paying for all her meals at the beginning of each month.

I'll tackle that guilt on another day.

I walked toward her and heard the most beautiful sound a father could hear...

"Daddyyyyy!!!!! Hi!" Vanna said as she sprinted to me. "Are you here for Lunch on the Lawn day?"

"Of course baby. I wouldn't have missed it."

We had a great lunch and then spent the rest of time walking hand-in-hand while she pointed out friends and things she enjoyed doing at school. It couldn't have gone better.

While she thanked me for coming, I couldn't help but thank guilt for coming to me.

Just hope it waits until after vacation to come again.

Hey George...it's me again

2009-01-05T03:03:00.000-08:00

New baby?

2009-01-04T14:33:00.000-08:00

I am trying to rent a room out in my house and just got a call from a couple that would like to take it. The euphoria of having an extra $600 in my pocket was short-lived.

I was brought back from bliss when the following sentence came out of her mouth...

"We have an 11-month-old that would be moving in as well... but we promise you won't hear anything coming out of our room. The baby is really quiet!"

All I could think of saying was, "Really? What's your kid's name? Helen Keller?" Fortunately, though, the governor on my mouth was on and I said I would think about it and get back to her this evening.

I know babies. I have had four and have raised them on my own for the last four years. The last thing I would describe any of them as would be quiet. There are more noises, smells, and bodily secretions coming out of them to cause anyone to get a little nauseous.

However, those are my kids and my noises and my smells and my bodily secretions. My kids stuff couldn't make anyone sick.

Besides the fear of all that... I have graduated from babyhood fathering. I have done my time. And I did it my own. It wasn't always easy.

Days of searching the house for bottles at 2:30 a.m. only to be rewarded with ones that had week old formula in it that looked like cottage cheese are over. As are the days of taking diaper after diaper to the trash can outside so that the house didn't smell like gerber baby food gone bad.

Don't get me wrong. I loved being a baby's dad.

I loved their constant craving for attention. I loved the fact that they still wanted to climb into my arms and fall asleep. I loved their eyes looking up at me as I held them and fed them a bottle. I loved it all.

It was their constant need for me that kept me from going completely crazy after the relationship with their mother ended. I had to get up each and every day for them. There was no choice in the matter.

But, now, I love the new challenges and pleasures of having children from the ages of 4 to 10. We play Wii together, put puzzles together, do laundry together, make dinner together, and just hang out together. There is nothing better than a day with my kids.

But someone else's 11-month-old?

I think I'll pass.

Get up, Brett!

2009-01-03T16:09:00.000-08:00

I ran into my best friend last night for the first time since 1991. We had talked a few times over the years, but never like this. It was great to finally reconnect, laugh, and relive the fun times of the past.

But more than just laughs, it was an opportunity for Kelby to set a few things straight. He was always good at putting things in perspective and reminding me what truly is important.

Kelby and I first met when we were on the same baseball team as third graders. He was by far the best player on the team, but it wasn't his talent that drew me to him. He had a presence about him that was beyond his years. He was in complete control of his surroundings and made sure everyone around him knew it.

During our third game of the year, Kelby did something that I never forgot.

"Kelby... you can't use that bat," Coach Spragno barked. "It is way too big for you to swing. Grab the littlier bat."

I remember his repsonse like it was yesterday.

"Coach, we need a big hit. I need the big bat to get a big hit. Relax Coach... I got this"

I was shocked. What 8-year-old talks like that to an adult? I was a military man's son. All I ever said was, 'Yes Sir, No Sir.'

After one bad swing and terrible strike called by the ump, Kelby did get his big hit. He hit a ball over the fence to score three runs and we won the game 4-3. With all his teammates surrounding him at the plate, Kelby had only one thing to say...

"You missed that call on the second pitch, Ump. You are lucky I got another one to hit."

From that moment on, Kelby was always a little more special to me. He was always someone I admired and not because he could hit ball farther than me. I admired him because of his confidence and belief in himself that I have and am continually looking for in myself.

We spent the next 15 years coming and going in eachothers lives. I was the one who always had the parents who would let Kelby stay over whenever he needed. Kelby was the one who was kicked out of house as senior in high school and somehow got his own apartment. The parties and good times we had in that place are times that I will never forget.

But more than just good times, we both had something that we wanted from eachother. He wanted the stability and love that I got from my own home, and I wanted his ability to go out on his own and to be able to take on life with the same vigor that he did.

He left me for good during the summer of '91 and I had never gotten over it. I have been bitter, lonely, and even cynical ever since. Until last night.

Laying in bed with nothing to entertain me other than my thoughts, Kelby came back.

"What's up?" he said with the same cocky smile he always had. "What the fuck you doing? You got another chance that I never got. Make it happen."

He said a lot more to me, but I am going to keep that for me and only me. Like I said earlier, he always had a way of keeping things in perspective for me.

Here's a guy who overcame so much in the short time he was in this world. It's about time that I start doing the same thing... I don't want our next visit being a motivational speech from him to me.

I want to tell him about being the head football coach at the high school we went to. I want to tell him about my daughters, two of them that I named after him.

But more importantly, I want to tell him that every time I start to feel sorry for myself he pops into my head and says, "What the fuck you doing?".

The real me?

2009-01-03T16:04:00.000-08:00

I often wonder what makes me me. With so many hats, it's hard to differentiate between them all. And, yet, it's days like today when I am not wearing any of them that I seem to have the most problems. Is it because these are the days that I can no longer hide behind being a father, coach or teacher... and really have to deal with the real me?

What I find disheartening the most is that I am not really bothered with the Who or What I am... but rather, I am concerned with not really knowing the real me. One of the first questions or topics that comes up when you start dating someone new is the famous question, "What makes you tick?" That is the question I find myself asking myself right now.

It is question that I hope to have answered by the end of 2009. There will be no promises of no more smoking, of going to the gym on a regular basis, of eating healthier, or being a better person in general. No... what I would like to accomplish in 2009 is to find out what makes me tick. Not so I can answer the question for anyone else, but so I can truly know for myself.

I have decided that since I am doing this for me and only me, that I will be writing about it on here with little or no audience. One thing that I do know about me is that I love to write. I love the process of taking one's thoughts and putting them to print in whatever medium it may be.

I look forward to this journey I am about to make and look forward to wherever the destination may take me.