My Greatest Sports Moment – A Daddy Diary

November 28, 2011 By 10 Comments

My 7-year old daughter (a smooth defensive infielder) approached the gates of Busch Stadium on October 27th and said to me, “Daddy, this feels different than the last Cardinal game we went to…There are a lot more people.  I mean, a lot more people. And, they just seem to be acting differently.  Why is that?”  I responded with pride, “Delaney, welcome to the World Series, the greatest sporting event there is, and our Cardinals are playing in it.”

We handed our Game 6 tickets to the Ticket Taker, and that’s where this story takes an evil turn.  Our tickets did not scan.  We were escorted to a member of the Stadium’s Management Team (not Tony Larussa), then asked to pay a visit to the Ticket Office.  We were informed that our tickets were counterfeit, and we were out of luck.  Within minutes, my daughter and I went from sitting in the bleachers inside Busch to sitting on a curb outside Busch.

We sat there for a few minutes without saying a word when finally my little girl gazed up at me with her sweet, innocent face which was buried underneath her RED winter stocking cap snuggled under 4 layers of RED shirts and sweatshirts, and says “Daddy, I don’t understand what just happened.  Why won’t they let us inside to watch the game?”  I admit it.  My eyes began to water and not because of the 25mph blustery wind hitting us with a 40 degree wind chill.  This was among the saddest moments of my life.

I explained to her that earlier in the day Daddy had purchased 2 tickets from a man who said he could not attend that night’s game due to a family conflict thanks to the previous night’s rainout.  Game 6 was supposed to be played the night before, but it was postponed due to rain.  He had a good story.  I bought it, and I bought what I thought to be 2 bleacher tickets to Game 6 of the World Series.  He got me.  In looking back, I can see the red flags now.  But, I admit that I was seeing RED that entire day, and wasn’t even thinking this was a possibility.  Yes, I’m naïve.  And, yes, I’ll never get on Craig’s List again.  I  know, I know, I’m an idiot for even thinking this was an option, but for a non season ticket holder that was struggling to swallow the Stub Hub prices, and lost out on the team’s auction for tickets, Craig’s List seemed to be my only option.  I know, I flubbed it. Error Daddy.

So, there we sat on the sidewalk for over an hour.  Delaney then turned to me and said “Daddy, let’s go get some dinner.”  So, we went over to Friday’s Restaurant which had cleared out as those with “real” tickets walked over to the game.  We watched the first couple of innings while eating a burger, fries, and a strawberry RED slushee (Delaney’s choice).  She said “Daddy, let’s walk back over to the Stadium.”  “Really?, I questioned”  “Yes, Daddy, I want to hear what it sounds like when that many people all get excited at the same time.  I want to hear what a World Series sounds like.”  Oh, yah, sure, I had dry eyes, and I can also hit a 99mph Fastball.  Not so much.

If the “seller” had walked past me at that point in time, I would have gone all Mike Tyson on him (not the Mike Tyson that played for the Cardinals in the 70s either).  I’m not tough.  I can also admit that.  But, you Dads know what I’m talking about.  This thief stole an experience from my little girl, and well, you don’t have to have biceps the size of Albert Pujols to knock someone out of the park.

My little “Red” bird and I walked around the Stadium for a couple of innings, just taking in the World Series atmosphere.  I tried to haggle with a couple of scalpers knowing the entire time that I just couldn’t bring myself to risk another counterfeit experience and spend more money on this game.  Besides, what if “we” lost?  Ugh.  I couldn’t go there either.  So, after the 4th Inning, I looked at a tired little girl and said “Honey, how bout we go home and watch the rest of the game with Mom and your brother?  I’m so sorry that we’re not inside watching this game.  I’m truly very sorry.”  She looked at me and said “Daddy, this was the best game that I’ve ever been to.  It’s the World Series, and I’m with you.”  Yep, call your Water Utility Company because I had enough H2O streaming down my cheeks to take care of your entire town.

So, she bounced into my arms, threw her arms around my neck squeezing me tighter than a runner from 3rd sprinting home on a sac bunt attempt (baseball reference), then I flung her onto my shoulders and I skipped all the way back to my car with my little girl singing “Take me out to the Ballgame” and of course, “Never say Never” by Justin Beiber.

We buckled into our seats in the Top of the 5th.  She was asleep 1 out later.  When we arrived at our home, it was the 6th.  I picked her up, put her on the couch, and rubbed her head while she slept on my lap all the way until the Bottom of the 9th when 2 men were on, and 2 were out with 2 strikes on Cardinal batter David Freese.  You all know what happened in the game from that point on, but I will say this, she never even made a peep.  She was safe and sound at home, and that was good enough for her.  Thanks to the Home Town Kid, David Freese, the Cardinals, miraculously, won that game after being 1 strike away from elimination not once, but twice, and the 3rd baseman was the hero both times.

That game will go down as the greatest Baseball game in St Louis Cardinal History, and I’ll never forget it as my Greatest Sports Moment.  I owe it all to an infielder whose first name starts with the letter “D” …. Delaney Smith, my little girl.

Sincerely,

Delaney’s Daddy

November 27th, 2011

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A Hall of Fame (Cooperstown) Moment

July 18, 2011 By 2 Comments

We all have that one special place that evokes memories of magic.  To some it’s Walt Disney World, to others it’s the mountains or the beach or even their own backyard.  My “place” is a small town in Upstate New York; most know it as the home of the National Baseball Hall of Fame.  Many call it simply “Cooperstown.”

I love this place so much that I named my son after the town.  Cooper now thinks the town is actually HIS personal town.  I’ve explained to him that a very select few are commemorated in this shrine, and for the first time in his short 5-year life, he has met a member of Cooperstown.

This past Monday, State Farm and the Boys and Girls Club of America put on a baseball clinic in conjunction with the 2011 Major League Baseball All-Star Game Festivities.  My wife (@daniellesmithtv) was asked to attend this event.  She was allowed to take her family along for the ride (many thanks to State Farm).  The man putting on the clinic was 1st Ballot Hall of Fame Inductee and former Baltimore Oriole Cal Ripken, Jr.

Cal was to teach a group of kids some of the finer points of hitting a baseball.  Enter the future Cooperstown inductee, Cooper Smith.  Coop stepped to the dish and drilled line drive after line drive into the net.  Ripken looked over to the large group of fans viewing his clinic, and said “He’s a really good hitter.”  Insert a smile on this dad’s face that stretches from Chase Field to Camden Yards.

After Cooper took his rips, Cal gave him a High 5, and the 3-foot-8 well educated baseball historian says to him and I quote “Two-thousand-six-hundred and thirty-two games in a row?  How did you do that?”

Let me pause to explain.  Cal Ripken, Jr. holds the Major League Baseball record for consecutive games played at 2632.  I hold the record for making my 5-year old recite this number on one airplane flight.  It was worth it.  Back to Cal and Coop.

Ripken laughs, takes a soft baseball and tosses it at Cooper.  Cooper grabs the ball (across the seams) and fires it back at him.  They go on to play dodge ball for a few minutes while the local news media focus its cameras as the current and future Hall of Famer trade a game of catch that us mortal, Non Hall-of-Famers could only dream of being a part. (here’s a quick video of the hitting and catching between the two)

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For the Love of Baseball

February 28, 2011 By 6 Comments

On August 31st, 1978, I was 3 years old, and was about to fall in love for the first time.  I would fall in love one more time, some 23 years later, but my wife understands that she shares me from Mid-February to early November each year.  My wife treasures her alone time from the last out of the World Series to that wonderful day in Mid Feb when “Pitchers and Catchers Report to Spring Training.”  I enjoy those months as well, but I live for the words “Play Ball” whose echo migrates North to all of us who cannot fly South to Florida and Arizona in the dead of winter.

My Dad and I approached the front gates of Busch Stadium on that day in August with only one “being” impeding our progress, a 15 foot statue of “The Man.”  Before we could enter through the pearly gates, my Dad explained to me who “The Man” was and how we are to not only respect #6, but also respect the game that gives real value to the Diamond.

Prior to advancing forward into the Hot Box of St Louis, I was expected to memorize the inscription below Stan Musial’s Statue.  “Here stands baseball’s perfect warrior, Here stands baseball’s perfect knight.”  I got it down in about as much time as it took Cincinnati Pitcher Tom Seaver to complete his pre-game warm-up that day, and this is where my love story begins.

Then, 31 years later, I did the same thing with my son.  These two memories book end my Romantic Novel, and there are many in between, for example:

Waiting in line with my Dad throughout the night in 1987 to buy Standing Room Only Tickets at 9am on the day of Game 6 of the NLCS, and I was ecstatic to be watching the game from over 600 feet away through a fence hole.

Hitting a Game-Winning Bottom of the 7th, RBI Single of my own to win a High School Playoff Game in 1992.

Serving as Assistant Coach to my brother’s High School Varsity team in 1998 and winning a District Championship where after the last out was recorded, I jumped on top of a pile of 16-year old and 17-year old kids, found my brother at the bottom of the pile and hugged him so tight he stopped screaming for lack of air.

Yelling loud enough to wake up the neighborhood on October 17th, 2005 when Albert Pujols, our Modern Day Musial, delayed our winter by one day when sending a Brad Lidge Concrete Mixer Slider into the Houston night during the NLCS, then one year later, running down Broadway with my wife on my shoulders as the World Series Trophy had returned to my city for the first time in 24 years.

Finally to June 19th, 2010 when my 4-year old son, MY SON, played in his first T-Ball game then approached me after that game and whispered to me, “Daddy, that was the most fun I’ve ever had.”  Me too Cooper, Me too.

That night, I tucked my son in his bed under his baseball diamond comforter, where he lies his head on a round, white pillow which, of course, has red stitches, above him is a halo of wooden (not aluminum) letter’s hanging on his wall that spell C-O-O-P-E-R’-S T-O-W-N.

And, for all of those reasons/memories with that last one being the most important to me is why I love Baseball.

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ProBowl Playground

January 30, 2011 By 2 Comments

NFL Quarterback Drew Brees said it best, “Every kid needs access to a playground.  That’s what kids do.  They play.”

Agree.

I’ve now helped build 2 playgrounds in my life.  The latest was with my new pal, Drew, and 250 others on the island of Oahu in the town of Waipahu where up until this past Thursday, kids at the local YMCA did not have a playground to call their own.

Before I describe to you what it’s like building a playground with 250 volunteers who included men and women from the greatest military on earth, local citizens and government officials, Sponsor P&G, Non-Profit KaBoom!, and a few of Drew’s buddies from the NFL, allow me to give you a quick glimpse at the first playground that my Dad and I built for my kids.

Understand that when someone says to me, “Hand me Phillip’s Screwdriver, I look for my friend Phil’s OJ and Vodka.”  I had to call a handy man once to put my screen door back on its track.  I try. Trust me, I really do try, but I just wasn’t given this ability.  Case in point…

I started this playground project on the 1st weekend of July.  It was completed by Labor Day.

On the 3rd weekend of July, I finally had the clubhouse’s first floor framed, but that slipped my mind, when I was bending over to do something on the ground floor in the sandbox-to-be; I stood up, hit one board with the back of my head which launched me forward where I cracked my nose on another floor board.  I was knocked out for a few moments.  When I came to, I saw stars (not Drew Brees), and of course, blood gushing from my nose.  My dad helped me inside to get some ice, and my 3year old yells, “Mommy, come quick, Daddy still hasn’t finished the playground!”  Never mind the fact that I was losing pints of blood by the second.  She was right; the playground construction may have taken a bit longer than planned.

Now, to the sequel…

In a well coordinated effort thanks to P&G, KaBoom! and the NFL, the Leeward YMCA of Waipahu now has a playground.  Time to construct: 6 hours or an NFL Sunday Doubleheader.  I learned many lessons while witnessing this miracle (well, not really a miracle when you have a plan and people that know a “2×4” is a piece of wood.  I always thought it was “8.”).

Lesson 1 – Invite a handful of NFL Players to help.  The number of volunteers was much higher than I had, about 249 more than me (Thank you Dad).  I’m not saying these people wouldn’t have shown to build the local youth a playground.  I’m just saying that people did NOT help me build my playground (I don’t blame them). Having Drew Brees, Matt Ryan, Matt Cassel, Wes Welker, Jahri Evans, Jerod Mayo, Matt Light, and Hall of Famer Marcus Allen may have helped me.  I have them all on speed dial now for my next playground.

Lesson 2 – Invite the US Military to help.  This was like a day off for these women and men.  I took a lemonade “pause” every 30minutes.  The members of the military are like camels.  They must store their liquid somewhere or they’re just really, really tough.  It was like they never took a break.  They must train for stuff like this.  No worries, I took their break for them.

Lesson 3 – Have T-Shirts made to commemorate the event.  P&G sponsored this event in line with the “NFL Play 60” campaign with the focus on getting kids to be active at least 60 minutes a day to combat the plague of childhood obesity which currently affects 1 in 3 U.S. children.  I really could have used a couple of T-Shirts for my Dad and me.  I’m calling P&G next time.  I already have the motto, “Save Jeff 60” with the focus on helping me build a playground, so that I’ll have 60 days of my life to give to something other than building playground.  .

Lesson 4 – Have an energetic MC and a DJ playing cool music.  Give it up to Kenny Altenburg from KaBoom! (more on KaBoom! in Lesson 5).  Kenny had the mic, and kept everyone “pumped up” for the entire day.  He’s a great guy with tremendous energy.  I’m thinking about hiring him for Cooper’s 5th Birthday party.  I was willing to grab a hammer for him.  Well, he had someone talk me out of that because he had heard my reputation, but point is; I was “all in.”

Final Lesson, Number 5 – Call KaBoom!  The entire reason for KaBoom! is to build play spaces (see playgrounds) to keep kids active.  They’ve now built 1,921 playgrounds.  So, I’m thinking that they probably know what they’re doing.  The idea for KaBoom! came about after someone heard my first playground story.

So, mark it down.  I have now helped build 2 playgrounds in my life.  The first with my Dad (He’s the man), and the second with the help of the U.S. Military, the citizens of Waipahu, P&G, KaBoom! and the NFL.  And, guess what, I now know what a Phillip’s Screwdriver is…It’s a play call by the San Diego Chargers Quarterback.  See, I’m always listening to my buddy Drew.  I have to go now.  My cell is ringing.  It’s Drew and the fellas.  They need my help again.  Play on!

For more information on P&G’s commitment to Child Wellness, visit Take it to the House.

This post is part of a series from my time with my wife in Oahu covering the ProBowl and Community Blitz for P&G. Danielle was compensated for her work, however all thoughts, opinions and experiences relayed in this post are mine alone.

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The Machine

December 8, 2010 By 14 Comments

With all due respect to the great Albert Pujols, my wife, Danielle Smith is “The Machine.”

ESPN has a “promo” where “the greatest baseball player on the planet” is portrayed as a machine due to his consistent high level of success, constantly getting the job done without failure.  Albert has nothing on my wife.

Let me take you thru a typical day in the life of Danielle “La Maquina” Smith.

6am – Alarm goes off…Time to get kids ready for school…she’s not a morning person, so don’t talk to her, but you’ll see why she’s not a morning person in just a few short paragraphs.  I do talk to her; it’s amusing to watch her not respond to me (wait a minute, that happens regardless of time of day).  PS…She’s the most beautiful woman on the planet when she first wakes up.  That is not a joke.  I truly believe that.  I’m fortunate that my wife is one of those women that are naturally stunning (no makeup needed).  Yes, I’m lucky.  So is she, I’m quite a catch in the A.M.  I have fantastic morning hair.  Imagine the hair of the offspring of a Peacock and a Rooster.  That’s me (Random thought: I’m into roosters by the way, more to come on them later).

7am – Prepare kids’ breakfast, feed dog, listen to husband’s funny jokes (Me being a morning person is wonderful for our marriage), converse with neighbor’s kids who carpool with our little ones, and complete approximately 20 Tweets, Email replies, and FB updates all while still laughing at husband’s jokes.  I love the morning J And, dang, my best material hits me as the Rooster crows.  PS…We don’t have a rooster, but I’d love to have one some day.  Note:  Put that on my Christmas List.

725 am – Take kids to school while belting out “Raise Your Glass” by Pink.  That’s the Truth.  If you know her or will see her soon, ask her to sing it for you, Very Entertaining.

830am-1115am – Depending on the day, it’s one of the following…Either,

  1. Perform on Camera for a local Marketing company on the most recent Commercial Spot
  2. Meet with Owner(s) of a St Louis based PR firm, Elasticity.  Now, those guys are funny.  I wonder if they tell her jokes in the morning meetings.  I wonder if she laughs.  Huh, this is all running through my head right now.  If she laughs at their jokes and not mine, oh, I’m going to be so … Okay, so anyway
  3. Write and Write and Write … Blog Posts, Tweet Replies, emails, IMs, DMs, FBs, ETC.  I don’t know what ETC means, but it seems like it ends all lists.
  4. Room Mother at both Delaney and Cooper’s School.  There is 1 Room Mother representative for both kid’s schools and guess who it is?  Yep, THE MACHINE
  5. Speak to local groups, High Schools, any and all community organizations, local DECA chapters, woman’s groups, ETC (there’s that acronym again).  My wife will talk to anyone (as long as it’s after 8am).  She’s more giving of her time than Mr. Swatch (that was punny).  Danielle is always willing to help out in anyway she can.  See her website motto of “Give good, get good.”  She gives of her time over and over and over again, and she “gets” to be married to me.  Good deal for her and for those she gives to…

1145 am – Pick up Cooper from School

1215-330pm – Be a Mommy to Cooper.  See, Coop is a very energetic, sports fanatic who’s smarter than the average bear.  He says to me the other day, “Dad, I don’t like to take naps because I’m afraid I’ll miss something.”  That’s Cooper.  He’s 4, and he’s all hers for 4hours a day Monday thru Friday.  Whew, I’m tired just thinking about them playing baseball and football and soccer and basketball and wrestling and hockey and…I’ve asked her to play sports with him, so that he can continue to sharpen his hand-eye coordination and get continue to fine tune his muscle memory.  I’m sure she does this for me, ahem, I mean … for him.

330pm – Delaney arrives home from school

400pm – 500pm – Help Delaney with her school work and prepare a wonderful feast for all of us (I clean, so I do my part.  I’ll do a post on “Marriage:  It’s the ultimate team game” some other time, but this post is all about THE MACHINE)

500-502pm – She eats.  Like a bird.  That’s good for me, because I clean up the leftovers.  I’m a raccoon.

600-730pm – It’s Family Time.  We read books, play hide-n-go seek, go to soccer or softball practice (depending on the time of year), dance around the kitchen to some random “GLEE” version of a current hit.  Long Live the Warblers!!!  It’s this 90 minutes of the day which is the best for me.  I love it.  Plus, I can do the worm, so the dancing thing is a blast.

730pm-800pm – Bath Time, Prayers and Bed Time

Now, the fun starts for The Machine.

815pm-2am (many times as late as 3am) – This is when THE MACHINE is at her best.  See, Danielle is nocturnal.  She does her best writing, video editing, producing, and creative thinking at night. I, with one hand on the remote and one hand on my … wife’s leg, crash just after “Seinfeld.” (1030 pm local time).  That show is still funny. She continues to type, as I start to dream about…farm animals.

I do NOT know how she writes as wonderfully as she does at 2 o’clock in the morning.  Her writing is organized, well though out, has a purpose, inspirational and is easy to read.  And, she does all of this as the raccoon returns to his home while the rooster assumes the position.

Press “Start” to make a copy and see The Machine do it all again tomorrow.

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The Batter’s Box

November 30, 2010 By 1 Comment

(From the Daddy Diary Archives – Jeff wrote this a while ago… but it has somehow disappeared from the site…)

Dear Baseball Diary-

Dads all over this country are smiling from batter’s box to batter’s box tonight.  They’ve given their boys away for the hopes of someday wearing a ring, a World Series Ring.  We had a local kid here in St Louis that was drafted 9th overall by the Detroit Tigers.  So, one day Jacob Turner is studying for his Algebra final and fixing his hair for Senior Prom.  The next day, he’s the property of the same team that Ty Cobb, Hank Greenberg, and Al Kaline all earned “Cooperstown” induction…Oh, yeah, and he’ll probably become a zillionaire on top of all of that fun

So, after watching tonight’s local news with my son, I look at my boy.  Our eyes meet.  He gives me that look.  He nods his head as if it say “Dad, it’s a done deal.  Just give me the ball.”

He stands a towering 3foot2 when his blond mop is grown out, weighs in at 32pounds and throws in the mid 20s.  He can top out at 30mph after eating a pack of StarBurst.  His name is “Cooper” named after … yep, you guessed it.  Go ahead and ask him to count to 5.  He won’t give you the normal 1-2-3-4-5.  He’ll say…Ozzie, Red Head, the Babe, Iron Horse and Albert, all of whom are inducted or will be some day inducted into his town, ahem, I mean Cooperstown.

So, here’s a quick “heads up” for all of you Major League Scouts.  I got a ‘can’t miss’ prospect for you.  Check back in for the 2024 draft.  By then, he’ll be 6foot5, 215 pounds, long and lanky.  He comes straight over the top with a tall and fall delivery.  He tops out in the mid to high 90s, and has never thrown a breaking pitch.  The Professional Coaches will take care of that part.  He just worked on arm strength and mechanics since he was 3.  He loves the game.  He lives the game.  He was born, destined to pitch in a Game 7.

Hold on.  Wait a second.  He’s calling me.  What’s that Coop?  You want to go pitch to me.  You want to learn a 4-seamer grip.  You want to put on your shoe-shoe?  Oh, geez, you mean, you have to go POO-POO.

Well, we got a ways to go, but I can SMELL IT anyway.

Dad of a Hall of Famer-to-be

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The Vasectomy Experience….

November 24, 2010 By 11 Comments

The Vasectomy Experience Part II

(Prior to reading this post, please refer back to the Vasectomy Experience Part I from this past summer; it’s very entertaining, and you know what? Even if you’ve read it before, refresh your memory.)

When we last heard from our Super Hero, aka Me, I was receiving a consult for a Vasectomy.  Well, now the day has arrived, and passed for our fearless leader… and….

Jeff: “I’ve been wearing this Jock Strap for 6 days and it’s really, really starting to bother me.”

Danielle, the extremely sympathetic wife (insert all kinds of sarcasm here):  “Is IT supposed to look like that?” (IT should be typed in black and blue)

Jeff:  “Heck if I know.  I know this comes as a huge shock to you, but I’ve never had someone slice a hole into my man parts before, but then again, I’ve never had a bee fly down my shorts either.”

Explanation:  During the procedure, Dr Shnip (yes, that was his real name…if you believe that, please call me up because I have some egg yoke to sell you…pain meds talking) says to me…

Dr Shnip:  “Okay, Jeff, I’m going to first administer some lidocaine on the right side to numb that area.  It’s going to feel like a bee sting.”

Jeff:  “Dr., have you ever had a bee fly down your pants and sting you in that section?”

Dr Shnip:  “Why, no, I guess not.”

Jeff:  “Then, how may I ask do you know that it’s going to feel like a bee sting?  I’ve been stung by a bee on my arms and legs, but never on my … ahem, you know…down there.”

Dr Shnip:  “Okay, good point, so, what are you doing tonight after you leave here?”

Author’s Note:  This is where Dr. Shnip tries to take the patient’s mind off the fact that he’s purposely cutting a hole into his …

Jeff:  “Great Balls of Fire!!!  I can still feel that.”

Dr Shnip:  “Oh, sorry.  I guess we need to give a little bit more of the numbing medicine.”

Jeff:  “You know Dr., I’m in no hurry if you aren’t.  How about you sting like a bee then fly like a butterfly for a moment while the numbing medicine does its thing?  Just a thought…

Dr Shnip:  “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Dr Shnip finishes up the entire procedure in about 15 minutes.  Nothing to it…until…I walk to the waiting room, where guess-who is waiting?  A 3-foot-6, 4-year old boy.  I’m 5 foot 11 and ¾ inches (some would say 6 foot, but my brother and wife remind me all of the time that I’m not 6 foot, story for another day), thus the 3 and a half foot terror-in-tennis-shoes is heading right for my mid-section…

Cooper:  “Daddy!!!”  (thump, I think, I’m not sure, because I’m still numb down there, thank God)

Danielle:  “Coop, Don’t touch Daddy, he’s sore in his boy parts.”

Jeff:  “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy nameeeeeeeeeee…”

Cooper:  “Oh, sorry, Daddy, you want to play some football?”

Jeff:  “Hmmmm, Coop, we may have to wait a few days before we play football.  Deal?”

Cooper:  “I guess.  We’ll just wrestle when we get home.”

I’m not going to give you each day of progression on how I felt during the recovery period.  I’ll spare you those details.  You’re welcome.  You owe me.  I will give this advice to all men out there who have not had the pleasure of this experience quite yet…

  1. Jock Strap is mandatory.  It keeps everything in its rightful spot, plus it made me feel like I was back on the ball diamond in high school.  I would pop an advil with a bud light, close my eyes and imagine hitting line drives into the gap, sprinting to third, then diving head first into the bag, when thump, the dog jumps right below my belt, leading me to advice point #2.
  2. A Pillow is mandatory.  It’s a defense mechanism.  IT really doesn’t hurt that much unless you walk into your 4-year old Hall of Famer-to-be swinging a bat in the living room and he catches you on the backswing.  And, no, I’m not deterring him from swinging a bat in the living room.  Some things are worth it.  We’ll all remember this during the 2024 Major League Draft.  I took one for the team this past week.
  3. Frozen peas are mandatory.  Yes, they reduce swelling, but there’s more to it than the frigid feeling down at the South Pole.  The peas tend to separate, surrounding and protecting IT from evil outside forces.
  4. The remote control is mandatory.  You, absolutely, do not want to move up and down too, too much.  I recommend the second weekend in March (Madness), first weekend in October (Playoff Baseball and Football at the same time), or Mother’s Day Weekend if you can pull it off.  Just kidding Moms, on that last one.  Wow, that would be the greatest move of all time if you Dads made that happen and survived.  If any of you have, please, please tell your story, and let me know if you’re still married and/or still alive.

So, now, here I am typing away, on Day 6.  I’ve officially removed the “scrotum protector” and I’m heading back to the gym in the morning.  Whew, Jeff Snip (ahem, I mean Jeff Smith) is back!!!

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