Going to State

Yesterday, JP learned that he will be running for MBA's varsity track team in the 4 x 800 at the State Championship Track Meet next week in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.  He was excited to get the news because although he was on the 4 x 800 team that qualified for the State Championships, there was a chance he would be replaced with an older, more experienced runner.  Objectively, he's one of the four fastest 800 runners of the group, I think, so I'm happy he was selected.

This abbreviated track season has been interesting for JP.  In the City Championships for freshman, he easily won the 800 and 1600.  It was different, though, when he ran the 800 in the last varsity track meet of the season.  He finished a few seconds behind the older runners.  

Last Friday, at the Regional Championships at MBA, JP ran the anchor leg of the 4 x 800.  He ran a PR at 2:01 and change but Ryder, a Father Ryan runner, pulled away from him on the last lap.  JP was angry and disappointed, of course, because he's JP and is competitive fire burns hot at all times.  As I reminded him after the race, though, Ryder didn't any curve balls this spring.  He was running track the entire time.

And that's the point, I think, and what makes JP's performance on the track all the more intriguing.  He practiced and played baseball for the junior varsity team all spring, then joined the track team as soon as the baseball season ended.  Sure, he'd been running on his own but he hadn't done any track workouts at all.  Moreover, he has absolutely no experience racing the 800 or the 1600 on the track.  He doesn't know strategy, race plans, etc.  And, still, his 800 time keeps dropping.  2:07, 2:03, 2:01.  

I can't help but wonder what kind of times JP would run if he ran track all spring.  I'm pretty confident he could get under 2:00 in the 800, probably down to 1:55.  That's really fast for a boy his age but who knows, really?  I love watching him run, though, in cross country or track.  I also love watching him play baseball.  

For a father, having the opportunity to watch your sons compete - really compete - at anything is special and a gift.  Always.  It's also fleeting, so I don't take it for granted.  Not a bit.

So, I'll juggle my schedule and be in Murfreesboro next Wednesday to watch JP run the 4 x 800 in the State Championships, cheering all the way.  

It's a good life, isn't it?

Joe Time

When Joe was at Children's House, I drove him to school each morning.  The way Jude and I worked the schedule, Joe and I had 45 minutes to an hour together every morning before I dropped him off.  We called it "Joe Time."  I miss those mornings terribly because for those few stolen minutes each morning, time seemed to slow down.  

We often went to Bongo Java for "second breakfast," as Joe called it.  We often played nerf football in the atrium inside the Curb Center by the entry to the basketball arena.  Students and faculty always smiled as they walked by us on their way to an early class, as I chased Joe on the way to scoring a touchdown and spiking the nerf football.  Other times, we played "Dude Perfect" and passed or punted the football to him from the top of the two story staircase at the front entrance into the student center.  

On Saturday, Joe and I drove to Clarksville for his last soccer tournament of the season.  For reasons I won't go into here, Joe played for the less experienced of the two 12U teams his soccer club sent to the tournament.  The 12U teams lost five of the six games they played, so it wasn't a banner weekend for the club.  However, Joe took advantage of the opportunity to play three reasonably solid games at goalie, although he didn't get a lot of action in the third game, a 4-1 in a 7 v. 7 game against a team that was undermanned.  

Admittedly, I know next to nothing about soccer, although I enjoy watching my sons compete at anything and everything.  Joe moved the ball well as goalie, which is what his coach wants him to do.  On several occasions, his defenders passed the ball back to him and he quickly moved it to the other side of the field.  In each game, Joe gave up one goal he probably would have liked to have back but, again, that's easy for me to see, as I have no idea what it feels like to play goalie in a competitive soccer game. 

The best part of the soccer tournament for me, though, was riding to Clarksville with Joe in my truck.  On Saturday morning, we listen to Tom Petty - the soundtrack from "She's the One," beginning to end - before moving into the Traveling Wilburys.  For Joe to love Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers the way I do is one of the true joys of my life.  On the way back to Nashville Saturday afternoon, we listened to more Tales from Lake Wobegone, by Garrison Keillor, from Prairie Home Companion.  Joe loves Tales from Lake Wobegone and I, of course, love that he loves it.  

After a brief stopover at the house on Saturday afternoon, I drove Joe over to Grassland for a Braves' baseball game vs. the Padres, probably the best team in the league.  It was a really good game, the kind of game you hope to see 12-year olds playing.  Good competition, good defense, good pitching, and timely. hitting.  Joe finished off a 5-2 victory on the mound and, although he didn't pitch great, he battled and let his defense - particularly Hamilton at shortstop behind him - make plays, and they did.  

There was a moment that I'll remember, when Joe was battling a good hitter who had worked the count full, at 3-2.  Joe threw a fastball that the kid fouled off directly into the umpire's nut sack - or the restricted area, as Joe calls it.  The umpired groaned and fell to the ground, as silence enveloped the crowd another coach and I ran in to check on him.  All of the men in the crowd knew exactly how the umpire felt.  I know I did.  After a few minutes, we helped him up and he insisted on continuing behind the plate.  A gamer.

I was curious what Joe would do after a delay like that.  3-2 count against a good hitter.  Would he throw a ball and walk him?  Would he give up a hit?  Nope.  Joe dialed up another fast ball and stuck the batter out.  That told me something about Joe's sense of resolve, his competitiveness, and his ability to focus and concentrate when he needed to do so.  It was a glimpse, I hope, of things to come for Joe, on and off the baseball field.  Grace under fire.  

In the last inning, Joe's control wasn't as good and he got into a jam.  He was bothered a bit by the Padres' players chirping at him during his pitched, which is bush league, in my view.  Still, he worked out of the jam and didn't give up any runs.  After he closed out the game, he stomped off the mound, angry and glaring.  He was pissed at the Padres' players and bench jockeys, so that give us something to work on, for sure.  I love the competitiveness, though.  Absolutely love it.

Joe's WNSL tournament starts, and ends, this week, so the Saturday night win over the Padres likely was Joe's last WNSL game ever.  My last WNSL baseball game to coach, or help coach, too.  I've got a lot to say about that, and I will, just not this morning.  Suffice to say there's nothing I like better than to be on the baseball field with one of my sons and his teammates.  It's quite literally heaven on earth for me.  

The Return of Guytown

Jude is in Knoxville this week for a leadership conference, so the boys are I have been on our own since Sunday afternoon, in Guytown.

That's long been my name, adopted by the boys, for how we handle things when Jude is out of town for work.  I don't get a lot of extended time alone with the boys, which makes weeks like this one even more memorable.  Working together, the boys and I figure it out.  There's a logistical challenge to it that I like, although the logistics are significantly less complicated in Guytown this time around because JP is driving.

For example, he's driving himself to MBA for school this week.  Steven and Mandy Young have been kind enough to allow  park in their driveway and walk through the backyard and across the street to school.  This allows Joe to wake up at his regular time, eat a leisurely breakfast and get his gear together before I take him to school at USN.  I don't have to worry about getting JP home from school, either, as he can drive himself home after track practice.  Convenient, to be sure.

I like the mornings in Guytown best of all.  Before I go to bed the night before, I set everything out that I will need to make breakfast in the morning.  A primitive form of meal planning, if you will.  I'm up at 6 a.m. or slightly before and I make JP's breakfast before I hop in the shower.  Waffle, cow cheese, fruit, and milk.  After I get dressed, I scramble JP a couple of eggs while we hang out for a few minutes.  

As JP gets his things together for school, I make Joe's breakfast.  Not surprisingly, Joe is a little slower getting going in the mornings.  He gets up, does his exercises, gets dressed, and comes downstairs.  By then, I'm scrambling his eggs, so he'll have them to eat as he's finishing his blueberry waffle, cheese stick, and fruit.  

From the early days, Jude emphasized the importance of the boys eating a good breakfast in the morning.  We've kept it up all of these years and it's become an important part of our daily routine during the week.  No Pop-Tarts or Nutri-Grain bars on the run for our boys.

Afternoons are a little more dicey with Jude gone because the boys are so busy with sports after school.  Today, Joe has a baseball game at 5:30 p.m., which means I'll have to leave work by 3:30 p.m. or so to pick him up from school and drive to the ballpark off Nolensville Road where he plays during the week.  All in heavy traffic.  Fortunately, my schedule at work so far this week has been relatively light, so I've been able to sneak away in the afternoons.  That changes tomorrow, though, because I'm mediating.  

Still, we'll manage just like we've managed so far this week.  Friday will roll around and we'll gather at MBA - Jude included - to watch JP run in the 4 x 800 relay for the varsity track team.  

Guytown.   

A Quiet Moment on Saturday in 12South

In 12South, change is afoot.  Everywhere.  

There are two major construction projects underway, the completion of which will bring ever more restaurants and retail options but also more traffic, tourists, and pedestrian congestion.  On Saturday afternoons like today, it's hard to walk down the sidewalk because the neighborhood is so packed with people from in and out of town, walking and gawking.  Parking is non-existent, so much so that it's difficult for actual residents like us to park on the street anywhere near the front of our house.  

Longtime restaurants and favorite spots of ours have closed - Josephine's and Taqueria del Sol - due to the expiration of longtime leases and greedy landlords.  It's sad to see a 12South original anchor like Mafiozza's on it's last leg with fewer and fewer customers dining and drinking there but I guess most restaurants have a shelf life.  The owners recently negotiated a 5-year extension when their original lease expired but I'll be surprised if it lasts that long.  

Several new restaurants are nearing completion in the two new developments that are going up.  Others will fill the spaces left behind by other dearly departed eateries.  It's crazy but I still mourn the loss of Mirror and Rumour's Wine Bar, a generation of restaurants ago.  Now, I miss Josephine, which was on the ground floor of a development project that resulted in the razing of Rumour's.  

I'm sitting in Portland Brew, in the heart of 12South, as a write this.  Thankfully, it looks the same, feels the same, and is the same, in spite of all of the change occurring nearby.  It's 4:30 p.m., almost closing time, and I'm the only customer inside, smiling to myself from my vantage point on the leather couch on the left side of the coffee shop.  It's comforting, somehow, to listen to the baristas laughing and talking as they clean up after what they told me was an incredibly busy day with Belmont, David Lipscomb, and Vanderbilt holding graduation ceremonies.  

I'm loyal to Portland Brew, through thick and thin, because it stayed open for takeout coffee during the pandemic, unlike Bongo Java and many other coffee shops and restaurants.  Although it seems like a fever dream, I'll never forget grabbing a latte from Portland Brew, extra hot, in a thermos, then pouring it into a coffee mug from home as I sat in a chair in front of Burger Up (which was closed) and watched the world walk by as I read The New Yorker in the early morning.  It was a scary, uncertain time, to be sure, so knowing I could still have a coffee from Portland Brew in the mornings meant everything to me.  

On an afternoon like this one, with throngs of people walking through 12South amidst the new development and construction projects, it's hard to believe that the pandemic ever happened.  Isolation?  Social distancing?  Masks?  All part of that fever dream or so it seems.

This is my neighborhood I guess, for better or worse.  As it's changed, so have I.  I've had children and they've grown older and I have, too.  The nights I finish a run at Edley's and have a beer or two while I take to Cara, Julie, or Ashley are long since past.  It's been ages, too, since I sat at the bar at Burger Up and had a "Friday Night" with Troy, while reading the New Yorker on my iPad.  The nights - weeknights and weekends - are so busy.  Work, teaching at NSL, or watching one of the boys play baseball, soccer, basketball, etc.  

After a morning of rain, Joe's baseball games were rained out.  JP drove himself to the MBA lacrosse playoff tame this afternoon.  Tonight, we'll probably walk down to 12South and eat dinner.  Maybe at Locust or Epice.  

I still love where I live and I'm grateful to have spent the past two decades in and around Belmont and 12South.