Perseverance

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When it’s time to go to bed and your child is demonstrating a quality that many people including adults are lacking, you have to just nod your head and tip your cap in Derek Jeter style.

I’ve done every teacher/ parent move in the book. He gets a five and two minute warning and then it’s time to head off to bed, but this kid is persistent. He tried it all… and he continues to try it all.

• I need to pee.

Even though you insisted 60,000 times you didn’t have to pee three seconds before this statement?

• I’m thirsty.

Impossible because you literally are holding a cup full of apple juice.

• I had a bad dream.

You have to be sleeping in order to dream… I call BS on this one.

• Please leave the bathroom light on because it’s so dark outside.

It’s night time. It’s supposed to be dark out.

• I want a hug and a kiss.

I gave you a hug and kiss when we came upstairs and the fourteen times I put you to sleep tonight, and when you asked for a drink… I see a pattern here.

• I have to tell you a secret in your ear

Unless the secret consists of you telling me you’re going to sleep right now, then I don’t want to hear it.

• Where’s Peppa Pig? I need my Peppa, George, Susie Sheep and Pedro Pony!!!

You mean the same Peppa Pig that you just threw across the room and said get this out of here?

• I’m really squished right now… there are too many stuffed animals in my bed.

Why the hell did you put them all in the bed in the first place?

After all that… the most effective move he made… the move that showed he won’t give in… the move that will define him is this:

When all else fails, curl up in the fetal position and pretend to be asleep!

Nice work kid… a tip of the cap to you:

Field of Dreams

Lets start out with the negative… on the drive to Jackson’s first baseball game… In the course of a seven minute ride to the field he asked, “are there yet,” 27 times. I was sure as sure as soon as we get there he’d want to go home.

There were, however, a lot of positives in his first game. Lots of great points to build off of. At such a young age players haven’t had a chance to develop bad habits, so establishing proper technique and having the time to work on skills no matter the child’s age is always a plus.

Which brings us to Jackson’s first “official” T-Ball game. Jax showed incredible speed, a quick first step and the ability to cover all positions as evident from his first time playing the field. About 12 seconds in he took off into the outfield, crossed over two other fields, went down a massive hill and literally into the parking lot of the next school before anyone could even get within shouting distance.

Later that inning… he took off for a second time. He was found in the woods a few minutes later.

Although he seems to show above average skills as a fielder and the speed to be a plus base runner, it was at the plate where Jax showed off his major league ready skills.

Batting three times in three innings he went 3-3 with three runs scored. (Mind you everyone went 3-3 with three runs scored. However not one other child hit from both sides of the plate. I’m not sure if he’s going to stay a switch hitter, and it’s clear he doesn’t have the sweet swing of Will “the thrill” Clark just yet, but I’ll pretty impressed with a barely four year old hitting righty and lefty in his first game.

 

 

I had fun… he had fun… and he looked damn cute doing it! The only thing better them playing the game yourself, is watching your son play it.

The Bonds of Baseball

A few years ago Marc Fisher, of the Washington Post wrote, “Baseball has lived for the better part of a century on its unchanging character, its role as a bond between generations, its identity as a quintessentially American game that features a one-on-one face-off of individual skills tucked inside a team sport.” For almost 120 years baseball has been dubbed the “national pastime.” 

Children still take to Little League fields every spring, some on pace for the college scholarships and others are content to stand in right field picking dandelions and looking at airplanes fly overhead. The song “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” is still as well known as any on the radio and writers and directors have used baseball to tell amazing stories like, The Natural, Bang the Drum Slowly, Shoeless Joe (the basis of Field of Dreams) and The Sandlot.

This is a game that has stood the test of time. A game that to this day has not succumbed to the fast paced mentality that other sports thrive upon (at least not totally). Baseball is and will always be a game handed down through the generations. From father to son and son to grandson, baseball will always in and of itself stand for family and transition. In an ever changing society there has always been one constant in life… baseball

Baseball belongs to me. It belongs to my grandfather and to my sons. The memories can never and will never fade. The thought of my grandfather standing across from me on the other side of a sprawling, beautiful manicured lawn plays over and over in my head like an old silent movie. It’s as vivid as is it were yesterday. Shopping for my first “real” baseball glove. Watching him intently as he showed me how to break it in. Oil it, tuck a ball inside just right and wrap it up with twine. I still have that glove. It smells like days past, like Charles Place, like a younger version of my grandfather when he was still able to move without pain to show me how to field a ground ball like the Scooter… it smells like baseball.

Baseball is a form of communication in and of itself and I don’t mean the language of the game or the intricacies of how someone might describe the perfect swing of Teddy Ballgame or Junior. It’s a silent language that doesn’t need to be spoken because it’s the silence of the game that speaks volumes. I sat at my grandfather’s feet as he relaxed in his chair. We barely spoke during innings. We watched, and he inserted stories of Mickey Mantle and Joe DiMaggio. It was like I was there. Most people my age never saw Gehrig or Berra play… but I did. Through my grandfather’s words I saw Murder’s Row torment pitchers and watched Maris and Mantle chase Ruth.

No one can ever take that from me. No one can ever tell me those things didn’t happen. They are history, they are symbolic to me. The sound of a baseball snapping as it hits your glove. Feeling the vibrations that ring through your hands and arms as your bat makes connection with your favorite pitch (low and inside- something I could pull).

Practicing robbing home runs in front of Pop’s shrubs led me to firmly believe I would be the starting shortstop for the New York Yankees when I grew up… (damn you Derek Jeter).

Regardless of whatever happened to my dreams of becoming an all-star infielder, I’ll never really know… but what I do know is that soon the name Fragola will again be running out of a dugout and taking his rightful place on a baseball diamond.  Jackson starting t-ball is about the single most exciting thing I have been looking forward to as a parent!

Buying his first baseball glove and then a father and son’s first time ever playing catch. (Yes I cried a little in the sporting good store).

Playing catch with my son is more than father – son bonding time. It is a family heirloom that gets passed down from generation to generation. One that I look forward to sharing with boys of my sons. It’s also an an opportunity for me to share my passion for the game and share stories of players like Rickey Henderson, Don Mattingly and Ken Griffey, Jr as my grandfather did for me with the best players of his time. And I look forward to being able to tell my sons about the old days when packs of baseball cards were only a few dollars and rookie cards were all the rage.

Super proud dad moment. The first time your son wants to go through his baseball cards on his own… thanks @Topps for keeping the family tradition alive. #BaseballCards #Topps

Soon I’ll just be a dad in the stands or maybe one day even a coach in the dugout. But for now I’m content passing on the love for the game to both my sons, one of whom has finally begun his amazing story as a baseball player.

PS: ThrowBack to ’86: I wasn’t much of a power hitter in case you couldn’t tell from those scrawny arms… but man could I lay down a perfect bunt.

Bronx Born Brainwashing

brain·wash: ˈbrānˌwôSH,ˈbrānˌwäSH/ (verb)gerund or present participle: brainwashing; make (someone) adopt radically different beliefs by using systematic and often forcible pressure.    “the organization could brainwash young people”

synonyms: indoctrinate, condition, reeducate, persuade, influence, propagandize, inculcate “the evidence is compelling that these cult members were indeed brainwashed”

You’ve read the above definition right? Good. Then you clearly know that my sons being Yankees fans is in no way brainwashing.  You are BORN a Yankees fan.  You aren’t made one. You bleed PINSTRIPES.  I grew up a Yankees fan because the Yankees are in my blood.  Bronx born, Pelham raised… Yankees for life… 

… so what if it takes a little NYY nightlight to help make sure my youngest is on the right side? 

It’s not brainwashing if it’s in your blood!  

Project Big Boy Room (New York Yankees Style)

img_0911-1Jackson’s transition to his bigboy room was was what you do expect… a little hard at first with a few nights wanting to sleep in his old room. However for the most part he was excited to have a new room, with a big bed and most of all he was excited to help create it.

I wanted to have him help (in all reality he does have more DIY skills than I do… and is by far a better painter). Case in point: how is it possible to slice your finger open while opening a can of paint… img_0918 But I digress… the room was a navy blue and we decided to go with Yankees Away Jersey Gray with a large blue accent.  Everyone knows that the easier part of painting stripes or lines is using a laser level to make sure everything is straight.  But not Jax and I. We go by eye, or eyes, I mean between us we have four.  I’m sure the lines came completely level.

From there the gray paint just went on with ease… went on the floor, the windows, the dogs, Jackson, in my eye my eye… the ceiling… you get the picture. Ohh yea… Peppa Pig’s tent also recieved a little touch up as well: img_0942-1   Luckily the decorative hand towels were within walking distance and provides us an easy cleanup.  img_0912-1

Meanwhile, we both went to work on separate projects for the room. Jax created his own personal Mini-Monet painting

…and I transformed an old step stool into a Yankees baseball card collage.

I also refinished Jackson’s bedstand (that was once my dads and the was mine) from the red color in the nursery to blue, and added a few finishing touches:

Then it came time for the bogboy bed assembly. 14 trillion parts, yet according to the directions I would only need a Phillips head screwdriver and an allenkey… I needed a wrench, a hammer, some screws, my screw- gun, wood glue, and five zip ties.

Smartly, after seeing me assembly his bed, Jax decided to nap on his beanbag chair… on the floor: img_0976-1

From there things started coming together and we were able to add a few more Yankees details to the room to help add to the theme.

The final corner stones of the room came last as I added the three feature pieces.

1. The first being the actual second base that was used in the first game Jackson ever went to at Yankee Stadium (Derek Jeter’s 2nd to last home game) signed by Jeter and mated with the ticket from the game, the Jeter retirement patch from his jersey and our picture from the game:

2. The second is an original signed artist print by Bill Lopa which was also signed by Mariano Rivera. This painting is HUGE and looks amazing mated with navy blue suede: IMG_1636

3. Last, but certainly not least… what New York Yankees Room is complete without the famous Yankee Stadium Facade?  IMG_2567  …add to that, Jackson’s Yankees newborn photo on canvas and that’s a wrap… img_2778


PS… Yankees theme or not… had to have a Harry Potter tribute too:  

RE2PECT  2️⃣

It’s supposed to be cloudy and pour all day… but on the seventh day God called the Bronx’ Native Son home to the Stadium he built to retire his number forever… and the Heavens parted. RE2PECT 🌞 2️⃣

Growing up my grandfather talked about how indescribable it was watching Mantle and DiMaggio play. The aura that they exuded was legendary and defined a generation. To us, to me… Derek Jeter is that generation defining player. He is and always will be the greatest Yankee I’ve ever seen play. I just hope Jax and ni Oliver can watch someone they can call an iconic Yankee too. I love this picture and was stoked to get a shot of us two with Jeets in the background. #NYY #DerekJeter #RE2PECT

Today everyone is cheering for: 

DEREK JETER 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 DEREK JETER 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 DEREK JETER 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 

https://chroniclesofanewdad.com/2014/09/24/the-house-that-jeter-built/

Undercover Santa


I have this theory about Santa that literally might blow your mind so I hope you are sitting down as you read this…

We all know there is only one Santa and his helpers come to malls to help Santa out while he is busy getting ready for his big night. He can’t be bothered with food courts and cell phone kiosks… Santa is making his list and checking it twice. He’s doing competitive eating practice drills so he can stretch his stomach for 793 trillion pounds of cookies that he’s gonna cram into his belly on XMAS eve.

I want you to think about literally every single Christmas movie you’ve ever seen. Think about the plot of every single holiday film, there’s at least an 85% chance the guy we met this weekend at the mall is actually Santa Claus. I’m so convinced that Christmas time is Santa’s time to come down and check in on what’s actually going on… sometimes he needs to get a closer look at a particular kid before he puts him or her on the naughty list. So what better way then to sneak into “Santa’s Workshop” behind the mall fountain and tap the fake guy out. It’s like a holiday version of undercover boss.

This one was so obvious to pick out though. The beard, the jolly laugh where his belly jiggled like a bowl full of jelly… you can’t fake that HO HO HO… you can practice it all you want, but even the best actors can’t completely imitate a Bronx accent or perfectly convey the voice of a character they are playing (except Allen Rickman… he is THE Professor Snape, he was perfect). There was something about this Santa’s HO HO HO. It was smooth and rolled off the tongue like it was natural to him… you know why? Because it was. This Santa was literally a saint. No “helper” Santa could have that much patience. No way, no how.

That brings us to the waiting line to meet Santa… Jackson screamed, yelled, ran, jumped and tried to attack Mrs. Claus (mind you that’s what you get for being all up in a two year olds personal space). There were a few children ahead of Jax and they pulled Santa’s beard and kicked him in the shin. What did Santa do? Smiled and calmed the child down with a reassuring touch and no break in character. Then Jackson arrived. I was so nervous, I apologized proactively and even asked one of the elves if Santa had good heath insurance. Jackson, the child with limited “sit still” ability was mesmerized by The Jolly Man in Red. It was instantaneous. This was nothing a mere mortal could do. This was the work of a Saint… Saint Nick.

I am so confident (I’ve seen The Santa Clause, and Elf and Miracle on 34th Street)… this guy was actually Santa Claus. I know that I’m going to see him in a few weeks smashing cookies in my kitchen and he’s going to give a small head nod and a knowing wink. And I’ll nod back. A “Jetereske” tip of the cap for not kicking my kid out of line at the mall when so many other “helper Santas” would have.

 

Hey Santa: