The F**k With Your Head Gods
"What do you mean, 'what does this mean?'"
He always wanted to be a columnist. Finally, at 30 years old, he had his own column. It was the publisher’s column for Sportscape Magazine. Ok, so what if he was the founder and owner of Sportscape and assigned himself the column? Here’s something interesting. It took three years for him to gather the courage to write his first publisher’s column. For his own magazine!
He wrote that first publisher’s column shortly after his son, Matthew, was born. It wasn’t long after that, The Fuck With Your Head Gods pointed out that, at 30, he was the exact age his father was when he was born. He convinced himself that this numerology jujitsu was irrefutable proof that he would also die young like his father.
His fourth column in Sportscape Magazine was about his son, Matthew. It appeared in the May 1984 issue.
For Heaven’s Sake Matthew, Roll Over
I’m depressed. My son Matthew is five months old, and he still won’t roll over. My sister’s son, who is seven days older, has been rolling over since he was three months old. Once a day, my sister calls and asks, “Did Matthew roll over?”
I don’t know why I’m so bothered by all this. Intellectually, I know that he is fine developmentally and that some children do things later than others. I also know that when it comes to athletic ability and coordination, I can run circles around my sister and her husband, and usually do. Matthew should be crawling circles around Jeremy. But you can’t crawl if you can’t roll over.
I asked his pediatrician what all this means.
“What do you mean, ‘What does this mean?’” he asked.
“I mean is he going to be a big, dumb-cluck first baseman, or is it still possible for him to be a fleet-footed shortstop?”
He said he had been a big, dumb-cluck first baseman.
My wife is upset that we have to find a new pediatrician, but I’m more upset Matthew doesn’t roll over.
I’ve tried everything. I’ve propped him on pillows, hung him from a makeshift trapeze, and even slipped him some Arnold Schwarzenegger vitamins. He kicks his legs and flails his arms, but he still won’t roll over. Talking doesn’t seem to help. “Matthew, roll over!” I often hear myself ordering. “Matthew, please roll over. Matthew, do you hate me? Is that why you don’t roll over?”
He loves it when I roll him over. Front to back, back to front. Each time, he laughs and laughs, and sometimes, he laughs so hard, I’m convinced he’s refusing intentionally. If that’s the case, I’m a dead duck as a father.
I lay awake at night wondering why I lay awake wondering about a five-month-old who refuses to roll over. Why is it so important to me? What does it mean if he’s a failure as an athlete? If he’s an athletic failure, does it mean I’m unfit to coach little league? I don’t know.
Each day, people at Sportscape ask, “Did Matthew roll over?”
“No, Matthew did not roll over.”
Behind my back, I’m sure they’re snickering about the son of a publisher of a sports magazine being congenitally un-athletic.
One night, I crawled into Matthew’s crib and whispered into his ear, “Matthew, please roll over. You’re embarrassing me.” Of course, Matthew did not roll over.
Finally, it happened. Matthew rolled over. No big deal. Nothing special. Front to back. Just like that. I put him on his stomach and he did it again, and again, and again. I immediately called my sister. “Guess what? Matthew rolled over. Not once, not twice, but four times. In fact, he’s about do it again. Up and over. Make that five times. Has Jeremy rolled over four times in the last three months? I didn’t think so. That’s because…No, I didn’t know Jeremy was crawling…No, no one told me.”
Matthew, I’m very happy that you roll over, but, for the life of me, please tell me, why won’t you crawl?
Down the road…
Of course, Matthew did crawl, walk and run. Growing up, Matthew was indifferent to playing sports. Instead of reading the room, Mathew’s dad did what every other frustrated dad did who wanted to facilitate their child’s athletic career: he coached Matthew’s 4th grade basketball team.
Let’s be honest, coaching wasn’t only about jumpstarting Matthew. It was a chance to prove his coaching bonafides.
Every team played man to man defense. It made sense. Simplified the game. You’ve got him, you’ve got him, etc. Not our guy. He wanted to play a zone defense, which required teaching the kids how to protect geographic areas.
The kids had no patience for his zone defense. At practice, they did whatever the hell they wanted.
He couldn’t abide the lack of discipline, the lack of respect. He gave the kids the speech. The same tough love cliché-ridden speech you hear in every mediocre sports movie. He even said that hoary last line, “If you don’t want to be here, you can leave right now.’”
When he finished, no one moved. He had their attention. He was pleased and impressed with himself. Then one kid peeled away. It was Matthew.
Matthew walked right out of the gym and started down the stairs before he caught up with him.
“Matthew, where are you going?”
“You said if we didn’t want to be here, we could leave.”
“I didn’t mean you. How does it look if the coach’s son quits?”
Matthew wisely kept going.
He never coached again.
He let Matthew be Matthew.
That was a very good thing.
As for his fear of dying young, it persisted. When he woke up on his 43rd birthday and realized his dad died when he was 43, he began getting mysterious pains. Okay, twinges. First in his neck, his legs, his back, his neck again. All year long. Each time, he was convinced - that’s it, it’s a tumor, I’m dead.
When he woke up on his 44th birthday, he was ecstatic. He screamed over and over, “I'm alive! I'm alive!” He then heard laughter. It was The Fuck With Your Head Gods. When they stopped laughing, they told him his father was 44 when he died.
He’s soon to be 71. He’s convinced he’s gotten the last laugh.
Wait, best not provoke. Let’s rephrase.
He’s glad to be here.
Do You Know This Man?: An Irreverent Memoir, is an ongoing exploration of the one character who eludes, confounds and mystifies. Me. Right now, it’s available for free, including being able to listen to some of my plays and dive into the best of Sportscape Magazine.
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