How a Cigarette Can Teach a Lesson

 

As I glanced out the window from the backseat of the station wagon, the sun was bright, and we were crossing the Verrazano Narrows Bridge.   I was so excited, constantly looking down at my watch.

It was a Sunday in August of 1980.   My grandfather was driving both of his son-in laws (my Dad and Uncle) - and two grandchildren (my brother and I) - to an adventure.   

It was 8:30am.   I was dressed in my full Little League uniform, glove in hand.

We were on our way to, "Mets Day with Mets Kids."  

The game did not start until 1pm, but.....

The letter I held in my hand said, "Arrive at Gate D no later than 9:15am." 

My grandfather was the true entrepreneur in the family.   My grandfather had 9 brothers, and together they started a dairy farm, called Somerset Farms.   After World War 2 ended, many new communities began to sprout up - and they decided to open up "Convenience Stores"  -- long before 7-11 or Quick Chek.    They grew from a dairy business into a chain of stores around NJ.   There were 70 stores in total.    

The NY Daily News sold many newspapers every day across my Grandfather's stores.  "A cup of coffee, a pack of smokes, and the Daily News."    That was the bread and butter of the morning business.    

The Daily News offered my Grandfather passes for "Mets Day with Mets Kids."   It was an event where distribution partners of the newspaper (the 70 stores) were offered an opportunity to attend this event as a "thank you" for being reliable sellers of the newspaper.  My brother and I were the beneficiaries, and excited to go.   

 

I was beyond thrilled .   Getting to meet the players, and be on the field with them was exciting and overwhelming.   And, to top it off -- the Mets were playing my other favorite team, The Phillies.   Read here, if you want to know how anyone in their right mind, can be a fan of BOTH teams.   Arch rivals.   I like em' both.   Go figure.   

 

We got to Gate D, and in we went.   We went through the Mets locker room.   Players were arriving, and I got to see many of my favorite players as they came in.   It was a "sneak peak" on the inside of a baseball locker room.   Heady stuff for a 12 year old, who idolized these guys, as I watched them on TV all summer long.

We were escorted on to the field, through a tunnel leading to the dugout.   We went to right field where Ed Lynch was waiting.   He would give us 15 minutes of "pitching instruction" near the bullpen entrance in right field.    It was awesome. 

Then, we went to 1st base.   Mookie Wilson was waiting for us, and he gave us a 15 minute tutorial on base stealing.   It was REALLY cool, and I actually used much of what he taught me, throughout my short lived high school baseball career.   

 

The grounds crew was setting up the Batting Practice cages - and they asked us to move out of the infield. 

Next, up we walked over to the 3rd base dugout.   Elliot Maddox was waiting to give us a lesson on "best practices for playing the infield."   

 

While listening to Elliot talk about how he prepares,  what types of excersises he uses to get ready for a game, I noticed some stirring going on in the dugout -- right next to us. 

The 3rd base Dugout at Shea was the VISITORS Dugout, and it was roughly 10:30am -- THE PHILLIES PLAYERS WERE COMING OUT OF THEIR LOCKER ROOM, AND INTO THE DUGOUT. 

My heroes, Pete Rose, Larry Bowa, Greg Luzinski, Del Unser --- these guys were all about 15 feet from where Elliot Maddox was tutoring me. 

 

I was in awe.   

 

The players were all laughing, and joking around. 

 

And then, my heart sank. 

 

The players, one by one, lit up cigarettes.   They were placing their bats and gloves around the dugout -- and getting ready for batting practice -- but, almost EVERY PLAYER in the dugout had a cigarette dangling from his mouth. 

 

Smoke, like a huge white puffy cloud was billowing out of the Dugout.   It was truly a scene that is emblazoned on my psyche.   There was no wind, and the smoke just hovered all over the front of the dugout.......

 

How was this to be?  Players smoking?   I idolized them.  I had no idea that professional athletes smoked.   I did not hear another word that Elliot Maddox spoke to the kids.   He kept talking to the kids, and I just stared, fixated on the players I idolized in uniform ---- smoking.   

 

I watched Larry Bowa smoke, and take long drags off of his Marlboro Red.  

 

To say I was disappointed was an understatement.   It was a crushing blow to my lofty expectations (that I had envisioned) of what it meant to be a professional athlete.   

 

We went up to our seats, and the game started.   I shared my dejected feelings, regarding my baseball heroes -- with both my Grandfather and Father. 

 

"Son, you are growing up, welcome to being more aware of stuff around you."  

 

And somehow, someway -- over the next 9 innings, I managed to get myself (I was 12 yrs old) into a place where the disappointment I felt  -- was really was manufactured by me.   Those players had every right to do what they wanted.   I had no right to be mad, upset, or angry at my favorite athletes. 

But, I was angry, hurt and resentful.  I NEVER EVER forgot it.   So, when the steroid scandal erupted across baseball a few years ago, I had developed a natural internal blocker in my head -- so that I had NEVER looked up to athletes in any way, shape or form.   I had ZERO expectations of baseball players in general.    It was a valuable lesson.  

 

It stayed with me, and the lesson I learned about disappointment, reared its ugly head recently, in the strangest of places.   

 

The coach said to my daughter, "I'm really sorry I could not play you today, the game was too close, and I kept our starters in the game down the stretch." 

 

The final score in the basketball game was 28-27.   My daughter is the 9th best player, out of 9 kids. 

 

She responded to the coach, in her typical upbeat, positive, and cheerful tone, "Coach, dont worry - you have to play the best players, I did not deserve to be in the game, I'm not that good - and we have to win."  

 

I was crushed.   My daughter was admitting she was not "that good" - and she was accepting her "place on the bench." 

 

As we walked out the Gym, I was crushed, I was floored, I was hurt.   

 

But, most of all I was disappointed.   I was disappointed in my actions, and my lack of focus in spending time with her, to practice with her, to make her a better player.  

 

I failed.   I disappointed her, and she was not even aware of it.  

 

I was angry, hurt and resentful.   But, this time -- instead of directing it at Phildelphia Phillies players in a dugout -- it was directed back at ME.    The same feeling of being let down, of "missing it" -- fell over me, like a 12 yr old near the 3rd base dugout at Shea Stadium.

 

The blame squarely fell on my shoulders.   My excuses no longer work, "I'm too busy."  "I leave for work at 6am, and come home after 7pm."   "I have no time."   Its all bullshit, plain and simple.   

 

The rational fades aways when your hear your daughter say, "I did not deserve to be in the game."    Those words, were like a knife in my heart.....

 

Thats my fault.   

 

Yesterday we went to a private gym, and my younger brother and I played 2 hours of basketball with my daughters.  We ran drills together, we worked on passing, and we focused on shooting.   TOGETHER.  

I have 10 years of catching up (basketball practice) to do. I yelled,  "Girls, no stopping - be serious, run the pick and roll -- THIS WAY."   "Head up when you dribble." 

"Arch on the shot."   "Follow through with your hand, leave it up."  

 

I never want to disapoint my kids the way I was let down that Sunday in August of 1980, at Shea Stadium.   

 

But, when I do let them down -- I need to fix it.   I've got alot of catching up to do. I'm proud to report that after our practice, we went to their basketball game.   Their team lost, but played well.   My daughter, who got no playing time the day before, started the game, logged many minutes, and played extremely well.   I was impressed. 

 

 

As we walked off the court, I said to her, "You did really well today, I'm so proud of you."  

She said, "Daddy - thanks for taking me to practice this morning before the game, I had the confidence on the court to know I could do it, I knew I could do better, and keep up with the other girls - and its because we practiced."  

 

I said, "Whatever you do, please don't smoke..... EVER."   She looked at me like I was from another planet.   But, it made perfect sense to me.   

 

In 1980  I grew up quickly on that Shea Stadium field, and 30 + years later, the lessons on life, and how to improve myself come from a 10 yr old. 

 

I dont want to let them down.......

 

Comments

[Gabe Monfried]

Great picture - I wonder who took it!?

[Michael Tornvall]

Great story Andy. Loved it.

[Stephen L]

Great! I just happen to stumble upon your site and BAM! I know, Andy. This is my year to come clean.