To Susan Young, my biological Mother:

You gave me life, then you gave me life experiences. When we moved to Oregon in 1975, and then Idaho in ’78, I didn’t like it very much, yet you still found all kinds of things to make things interesting. Camping, fishing, skiing, and great road trips. When I turned 11 and I wanted to move back to live with my Dad, you made it happen. I know that could not have been easy. When I reached high school age, and got great at baseball, I would always pass up playing all-stars in the summer to come see you. When I got to be 16 and decided that I really wanted to stay and play, you understood. Another decision that could not have been easy. The next year you came to Boston, for the first time in years, to see me graduate. It was great having you here. After you left you were diagnosed with M.S. That was nearly 24 years ago. In that time I have seen you go through the ups and downs related to the disease. Through it all you have always been a fighter. Refusing to let it beat you or define you. A fact that anyone who really knows you would ever doubt. Unfortunately, during this time period we have seen each other a whole lot less. Life can do that sometimes when people live so far apart. It has only been with my move to Dallas that we have had the chance to see each other every year. I am so grateful for that. I know that we haven’t exactly had a typical Mother/Son relationship, but I have always felt your love reaching out to me, no matter where in the world we were. Just know that my love for you was always doing the same thing.

To Madeline Chick, my Step-Mother:

Where do I start? In the beginning I would consider our relationship to be somewhat indifferent. We got along pretty well, and had some real fun together, but there was always a little something missing. Even today, I’m really not sure what it was, but something was absent. Then I reached my teens and everything went to hell. At the time I was convinced it was all you, but now I can say it was likely all me. Somehow, no matter how badly we got along, you still managed to have some semblance of faith that I would turn things around. How you did it is beyond explanation. I was a complete dumbass and I’m surprised you didn’t just choke the shit outta me. Thankfully you didn’t and I actually did start to wise up. Somewhere along the way I began to realize how much I loved and respected you. You were my Mom, not my Step-Mom. In many ways, you did more to mold me as a human being than my real Mom, because I had spent so much more of my life with you. Before long, we began to build a strong relationship and now it is about as good as it gets. I am truly appreciative of all the lessons I have learned from you. The easy ones and the hard ones. I hope you know that I cannot imagine having a Mother any better than you. I love you with all my heart and always will. You’re the best.

To Nedra Griffin, my Mother-in-Law:

Gigi. There are so many things that you have done that I am so thankful for. We met in the 90′s but by no means had any type of relationship. You were just Alicia’s Mom. Then she moved to Boston to be with me and things changed. I remember when you would call to talk to Alicia. I would see your number on the caller id and I would always answer the phone instead of just handing it to her. I truly enjoyed that 1-2 minutes of banter we would have before you guys would talk. You always cracked me up. I used to think that you had some Boston DNA in you because you could drop an F-bomb with the best of ‘em, and your sarcasm was spot on. Not typical traits from a Texan. Ever since we moved to Dallas in ’08, you have done more for my family than I can ever thank you for. From letting us stay with you during our transitional periods, to taking care of Quentin and Addison on nearly an everyday basis. I know it has not been easy for you at all, but you’ve done it anyway. Quite honestly, I don’t know where we would have been without you. When other men bitch and moan about their Mother-in-Laws, I rave about you to anyone who asks, and that’s no bullshit. I am honored to have you in my life and I love you dearly.

To Alicia Chick, Mother of my Children:

I don’t think it’s any secret what I think of you. You are my wife, my friend, my world. More importantly, you have given me 2 unbelievable children, while also assuming many motherly duties with Aidan. For someone who had no parental experience when she came to Boston, you definitely hit the ground running and learned on the fly. Together we learned the do’s and don’t of parenting very quickly. When it came to having our own child, I knew you would do great. I can still remember you waking me up at 6am on Thanksgiving morning, in 2006, to tell me you were pregnant. You were officially a Mother. It’s been over 5 years since that day and you are proving to be excellent at it. I love when I am watching them and one of them does something that reminds me of you. It always puts a smile on my face. You are engaging, smart, and caring and that is constantly apparent when I see the way our children are maturing. You always remember the little things and are quick to quietly remind me when I am not doing something I should. You are stern, but fair, and your children always come first, as it should be. On the flip side, your kids absolutely adore you with every fiber of their being. Seeing the complete joy in their eyes when you would come home from work everyday. Every. Single. Day. Simply awesome. You are everything that a Mom should be. You do a phenomenal job and I am so happy to know that our children have a Mother like you. I love you, Babe. You’re the best.

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY

The day you were born I was a 23-year-old dumbass. I didn’t know a damn thing about what it was going to be like to watch your mother give birth. You were already about 3 weeks late and so your mom had to be induced. We had waited all day for her to go into labor, so when it finally happened I was ready to go. I can’t recall how long it took for you to pop out, but when you did it was about the most insane thing I had ever seen in my life. Thanks to the internet, it is no longer in the top 10. When the nurse pulled you out, cut the cord, and cleaned you off, you had the most ridiculous conehead. It was so bad, I thought something was wrong with you. Of course, it was completely normal, and within a couple of days you stopped looking like an alien. It was a long, hard day on your mom, but by days end, you were both resting nicely. So began the journey.

For your 6th birthday we took a trip to Dallas. This would be the first time you would meet Alicia. We drove to San Antonio for the weekend and went to Six Flags and Sea World. I still remember the fact that you were actually tall enough to ride most everything. For cryin’ out loud, you were only 6. We hit your first real roller coaster and had a blast. I still have the pic to prove it. Later we did the lazy river ride and managed to stay dry. Well, when I say we, I mean you and me. Alicia got soaked by the big bucket dump. Too bad for her. 30 minutes later we stood on the bridge at the bottom of the flume and got completely annihilated by the splash. If I had not been holding on to you, I think it would have blown your butt right off the bridge. The whole weekend went great. Our first true father/son event. Awesome.

A year and a half later, we made the first official trip to D.C. to celebrate Thanksgiving with my Moms side of the family. It was the first time I had seen my grandparents in almost 10 years, and probably 15 since I had seen my Uncle, Aunt and cousins. I was so happy to have you with me for that trip. The whole weekend was excellent and your behavior was fantastic. I could not have been a prouder Dad. When we drove back to Boston, we went at night to avoid traffic. You tried so hard to stay awake through the night, but unfortunately, you didn’t pull it off. I look back at that ride home and still remember that hilarious song parody we heard on the radio………”Put it in a frame, and hang it on the wall.” I have never been able to find that song on the internet. Man, we laughed so hard. It was perfect.

Around your 10th birthday, we decided to get a dog. After lots of searching, we had finally chosen one. In the days leading up to getting him, we had all picked a name we each liked. Alicia wanted Toby. I wanted Fenway. You wanted Dallas. We were going to decide when we got home on which name to go with. On the way back from picking him up in N.H., we had to stop at the pet store to get all the things we were going to need. While Alicia was in the back of the store, you spotted a tag maker at the front of the store. You grabbed me and told me we needed to get him a tag. I told you we couldn’t get one until we officially decided on a name. Without missing a beat, you said that you would vote for Fenway then. It made perfect sense to me, so the tag was made. When we got in line to pay and Alicia saw the tag, she wanted to know what happened to the vote. Again, without missing a beat, you said there’s no need to vote because you’re gonna lose 2 to 1 anyway. We now had a 4th member in the Chick clan. We should have named him Stupid.

Then came my wedding day. You were my best man. You looked amazing in your tux. I was so glad that I chose you. I couldn’t think of a better way to show you how much you meant to me, on the most important day of my life. Virtually everyone who attended the wedding said something positive to me about you. How mature you were being. How handsome you looked. How happy I looked to have you there, by my side. It was phenomenal. I don’t think that I had ever loved you more than I did that day. You truly made my day complete in every way, and I could not have been more elated. We were now a family.

In addition to these few specific events, there have been numerous other, but no less important memories. The day you finally figured out how to block a shot in basketball, and then proceeded to swat the crap outta every ball that any kid on the other team attempted to shoot. I thought you were a star in the making, but sports just wasn’t really up your alley. All the days of listening to you get better and faster at playing Smoke on the Water on your guitar. Then listening as you actually started having a play list of songs you knew. It saddens me that you have drifted away from the guitar. I think you were most at peace when you were playing. However, just like the sports, I never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do. You deserve to make your own decisions, even if I don’t always agree with them.

So, now you’re 18 years old. It’s almost impossible to believe how fast you got here, but you’re here. I just want you to know that even though the road has been a little more than rough along the way, I will never judge you for being who you want to be. I just hope that you will always value my advice and won’t be afraid to ask for it…….ever. The world is what you make of it, and your word is your bond. Don’t be untrustworthy, work hard, and always be there for the people you value most, and sometimes for people you don’t even know. Loyalty is the backbone to a life well lived. I am confident that your future is bright. I am proud of you, and I love you very much. Happy Birthday.

I believe that when a person dies, they just cease to exist. No after-life, and no heaven or hell. The light just goes out……..for good. Most believers find that kind of thinking just as sad as my friend does. The reason for that sadness is because of years and years of conditioning, combined with a complete inability to consider any alternative possibilities. It’s these alternative ways of thinking that make the life of THIS atheist, far better than any believer could possibly imagine.

For starters, I don’t go through my life worrying about whether or not the things I do are a sin or not, and whether I will have to ask for forgiveness for them later. I have a much better concept, whereas I choose to just be a good person. Not because I want my golden palace and eternal life when I die, but simply because it’s the right thing to do. What a novel idea. Conversely, the fear of burning in hell for eternity doesn’t fuel my good behavior either. I certainly don’t find the idea of using reward or punishment as motivation for being good, a viable tool unless it’s for a child. Insert completely sarcastic comparison here. Ultimately, I believe that people would be far better off if they just wanted to do the right things in life because they were the right things to do. Especially when this is the ONLY life you have. Great segue.

Imagine, for a second, that someone you have known and loved your whole life, was going to be the first person ever to go on a never ending trip through space. You would never be able to see them or talk to them again. Wouldn’t you attempt to do as much with that person as you possibly could before they left? Now, imagine that you were the one going on that trip. Wouldn’t you try to see and do all the things you wanted to, with as many of the people you consider important in your life? I’m sure the answer to both of these questions would be yes. That is exactly the way an atheist goes through their life. Living our lives to the fullest because we accept the fact that our time is limited. We have only this one life, and it is incumbent on each and every one of us to maximize it. In doing this, you remove any excuses from the equation. You do the best you can with what you have. No regrets. I guess that would make Bobby Valentine an atheist. Huh? Oh nevermind.

In the end, I could say that I feel just as sad for believers, as they do for me. Needing a set of guidelines to be a good person, instead of doing it out of common sense. Believing that you will see someone you love in the after life, while simultaneously crying about all the things you wished you had said and done with that person. That makes no sense. That should be something an atheist does, because we know we won’t have another chance. For a believer, that seems hypocritical. In my opinion, a true believer shoud never cry at the passing of someone. If I believed in the heaven that a believer does, and my Dad passed away, I would be completely psyched. I would be calling everyone I know to tell them the great news. “Dude, my Dad went to heaven. How awesome is that? Lucky bastard. If you can see me right now, Dad, how many fingers am I holding up?” All the while laughing my ass off. That would be awesome. That’s not what happens though. Everything about the believers beliefs is a giant contradicion and is completely confusing. When the people I hold most dear to me meet their end, I will hope that I have done all that I can with them, and also that they know what they meant to me. If not, that will truly be a reason to be sad.

It had been a couple of months since the first time I had actually touched on the subject of moving back to Boston. In the nearly 3 years that we had been in Texas I had always joked around about it, but it wasn’t until I began showing my wife pics of houses for sale in Massachusetts, that we actually began talking about it. Actually, I think I was the only one talking about it. She was just listening. However, one day, after taking her to lunch, I pulled back up to her office to drop her off, and made another comment about the idea of leaving Dallas. At that moment, she made it clear that she was done listening. We were not moving back to Boston, and I needed to just get over it. Ouch!

In the days that followed, I began to think that maybe I was just being selfish, and was only putting my interests first. It wouldn’t have been the first time. I think everyone can make bad decisions, when driven solely by self-satisfaction. All we can hope is that we have someone in our lives, that we trust, to help point out the error of our ways. This seemed to be the case here. Then one night, everything changed.

We were sitting in the living room, on a Saturday night, having a couple of drinks. The kids were asleep, and we were watching a movie….The Time Travelers Wife. For the record, not bad for a chick flick. It was about 20 minutes from the end when it happened. A scene in which the 2 main characters are in the kitchen with their daughter, making dinner. The daughter turns and looks out the back door and says, “Look, it’s snowing.” As she runs to go outside, you can see that it is dark out, and the flood light is making every single flake glow as it falls to the ground. I look at my wife and make the off-hand comment, “It’s too bad our kids will never be able to experience moments like that.” I didn’t mean it to be anything other than a wise-ass remark. It certainly wasn’t the first time I had expressed my thoughts on how lame the holiday season in Texas was, and how bummed I was that our kids would never have the true winter experiences. However, this night was different. For the first time, I realized how I really felt about things, and that it wasn’t just about me.

Without describing the nature of the conversation that followed, I think my wife finally understood how much better I felt things could be for our family in New England. I’m not sure she completely agreed, but it was apparent that she was at least willing to re-open the discussion.

The weeks and months that followed had many ups and downs as it related to the idea of moving. We discussed many options, but as of this past January we had decided to renew our lease, and couch the topic until 2013. However, through a series of events, we completely changed course and decided that we would try to make it happen this year. The only true difficulty in this decision was the fact that I had a job opportunity that would require me to be back in Boston by April 1st, and therefore I would have to leave my family in Dallas until my wife could find a job. It would likely be about 3 months before that would happen, but we thought it was something we could handle. Now I’m not so sure.

While I was spending all my time trying to get anything and everything in order for my wife, before I left Texas, most importantly Skype, so we could talk every night, to help make the transition easier on the kids, I was convinced that she would inevitably be the one having the most difficult time with this plan.  Having to manage an already busy lifestyle without a husband around to share in the duties, seemed like a difficult task. Breakfast, daycare, work, dinner, tubby’s and night-night. As any parent knows, it’s a lot of work.

Meanwhile, I would be 1700 miles away, in my hometown, with all my friends and family around, and no real responsibilities. Just get myself up everyday, get my tail to work, come home, eat dinner, watch tv, Skype with the family for 10-15 minutes and then go to bed. Sleep late on the weekends and hang out with the people I have not seen in years. It really was a little unfair, but a seemingly necessary decision in order to achieve the ultimate goal. At least I thought so.

Today marks the 10th day since I have been able to hug my children. It is a seemingly simple activity that we did 10 times a day, which means I have now lost out on 100 of them. It is one of a dozen mundane things that take place in the course of a typical day in every family. Although it’s not the first time I have gone a few days without these experiences, this time is different. I’m not visiting Boston, I’m living here and I couldn’t be enjoying it less. I no longer think that my wife got the short end of the stick. I would gladly trade places with her tomorrow. I would rather be running myself ragged to keep up with my kids, than to be away from them another day. It is killing me more by the minute, and I am really beginning to question whether or not I really want Boston this badly. I’m not sure I do anymore.

Ultimately, I have no idea what the future holds for my family. One thing we knew going in was the fact that if my wife could not find a job by the summer, that I would just pack up the car and go back to my job in Dallas. The real question is whether or not it’s worth it. Do I just suck it up and stay miserable for the next 3 months because “IF” my wife finds a job, and we make the move, it will all be worth it, or do I just chalk this all up to a failed experiment and get my ass back to my family? Only time will tell. If this pain continues, that time may come sooner than expected. Stay tuned.

At some point during the course of the day we decided that my Mom and I would get the rubber kayaks that we had, and go down the river that was in the campground we were staying at. We got everything together, including our fishing gear, packed up the vehicle, and my stepdad Mark took us to the campground about 5 miles up the road to put the boat into the river that would eventually lead us back to our campsite. I couldn’t wait.

We got to the spot where we were going to get into the water. I was so excited to catch some fish. Little kid tackle box….check. Pole….check. Stringer….check. Bait….check. Snacks and drinks….check. I am all set. The river was very slow moving and calm. Hardly what anyone would call dangerous. At least that’s what we thought.

We pushed off from shore and started our way down the river. My line was in the water within the first 2 minutes. I held my pole between my legs and kept the paddle in my hand to steer my way down the river. BAMM! I got a hit. I grab the rod, set the hook, and procede to reel in my first trout of the trip. I remember yelling to my Mom, who was about 50 feet from me, that “I got my first fish.” We were off to a great start.

As we meandered down the river, things continued to go good. We had been coasting for about 30 minutes and I had 4 trout on my stringer. At one point, I remember pulling in my line because we saw some fisherman up ahead, wading in the river and fly-fishing. We steered buy them carefully and exchanged some kind words. For the record, I had more fish than they did.

Before I had a chance to recast my line, we noticed that the water was starting to get a little more choppy. My Mom and I had never been further than 50 feet away from each other, so she hollered to me that we need to pull off to the shore. I grabbed my paddle and followed her to the right side of the river. We got to shore, pulled are kayaks up on the land, and decided to walk down river to see if things looked okay. The water was definitely moving a little quicker and a little more choppy than it had been, but all in all it was a pretty clear path down the river, so we decided to continue. I wish we could have seen further.

As a precautionary measure, we decided to use the stringer to attach our 2 boats to each other. It seemed like a good idea. A way to stay close together, in case things got too rough. My Mom told me to just paddle with her until we got back to calmer water. Then we could pull off and detach from each other and go back to enjoying a ride down the river. The parameters were set, and we pushed off.

At first, it all seemed kinda fun. A little speed, a few bumps, going left, going right. To an 11 year old, it felt like I was white water rafting. Awesome, right? Not for long. The speed and bumpyness quickly became a little more than I could handle. In addition, it was becoming increasingly hard to paddle as well as my Mom. Then the stringer broke, and we quickly were separated from each other. Even at 11, my mind was saying, “of shit.” I was on my own.

Initially, being detached from my mother’s boat was making it easier for me to control mine. I was keeping my boat straight and was getting down the river pretty well. I just kept waiting for everything to start calming down so that I could relax a little bit. My Mom was about 30 to 40 feet in front of me and I was just following her lead the best that I could, but as we came around another bend, relaxing became the furthest thing from my mind. We were way beyond “oh shit” here.

The dilemma was a huge tree lying directly across the river. Although the water was about 5 feet deep, the top of the tree must have been resting on something because it was only 50% submerged. One whole side of the tree was almost 2 feet above the water line. The only way past was a space about 8 feet wide, on the far left edge of the river. My Mom was already over that side and I saw her paddle through. Being that I was in the middle, and the water was moving fast, I would not be so lucky.

The nose of my kayake went directly into the tree, and shot straight up into the air. Everything in the boat, including me, fell into the water. As my rod, tackle box, and goodies were floating down the river only 2 things remained. The boat, and me. Unfortunately, I had my upper body draped over the tree, with my legs being pulled through the space under it by the current. All the while, being unable to see because my boat was caught in the current in such a way that it was actually over my head, instead of downstream. I was in trouble.

Somehow, I finally managed to release the boat and get it off of me. As I held the tree I watched the boat go down the river. Unbeknownst to me, my mother had already paddled to shore, about 150 feet away. Before she had time to think, she saw my boat and everything that I had in it, coming down the river without me. She grabbed the kayake quickly, and got it on land and then began running upstream, to where I was.

Meanwhile, all I was doing was holding on to this tree for dear life. I apparently had just enough body above water to keep the current from pulling my legs, and me, under. For a few minutes, I was screaming for help at the top of my lungs. Surely, my Mom can hear me. Better yet, maybe those fisherman we saw could hear me. They couldn’t be that far back, could they?

Then I saw my Mom coming and was so relieved. I thought to myself that she would certainly be able to figure out how to get me off this log. I had a really good grasp on it and felt confident that I could hold on as long as I needed to. My Mom began wading into the water near the end of the tree. Her plan was to get on it, and walk out to where I was and pull me out. It made sense to me, and I knew she could do it. After nearly an hour of trying, it would be painfully obvious she could not. Now I’m beginning to realize that holding on is getting very difficult. This time I actually do have time in my head for an “oh shit.”

My mothers next plan was to go get a kayake and try to come get me in that. She would put in upstream, paddle down, and try and pull me out. So, off she went. As she walked out of sight to retrieve the boat, I was telling myself that this idea was also going to fail. What the hell was I gonna do?

Inevitably, I decided I was going to have to take a risk on my own. The whole time I was holding onto this tree, which had been about 90 minutes so far, I had become aware of the fact that there seemed to be a lot of space around my legs. My thought was that if I just let go, and got pulled under the tree, I would likely just pop back up on the other side. I had a life jacket on, and I knew how to swim, so it appeared to be quite simple. Now, I just needed to do it.

It all happened super fast. I took a deep breath and let go. Just as I had predicted, I went right under the tree and popped right up on the other side. I caught another breath of air and just started swimming my ass off. Going downstream sideways and trying like hell to get to the left side of the river. I was definitely having difficulty swimming, as the water was very cold and having been in it for so long, my body was not reacting as it normally would. Somehow, through it all, I made it to shore. I got out of the water and sat on a rock that was right there. “I can’t believe I made it.”

Within a minute, my Mom comes walking up the shore, dragging a kayake. I can’t really remember if there was a tearful embrace, or just a “holy shit, are you ok?” moment, but we were certainly glad to see each other. After resting for a few minutes and calming down, we decided to leave the boats and walk to find help. Who would have thought that this would be equally as difficult.

We must have walked through the woods for five hours. It had been dark most of the time. We had no flashlight, and if not for a clear night and a bright moon, I don’t know how we would have made any progress. Inevitably, we came across a dirt road. We didn’t know where it lead to, but we decided to follow it in hopes of finding something.

We probably did another 45 minutes of walking before we finally came across a campground. It appeared that most campers were already asleep, but one section had a few lights on, and we could hear voices. I’m not sure what story my mother told these people, but in just a couple of minutes we were getting into some mans pickup truck and heading back to our campsight.

As we arrived back at camp, there were lights everywhere. Police, fire and rescue, and dozens of campers. ALL looking for us. They had literally just decided to call off the search for the night. It was unreal. My step Dad, my Mom and I had a huge hug. The EMT’s checked us out, while the police asked my Mom a bunch of questions. Eventually, everything calmed down and all the flashing light were gone. I think I fell asleep in less than 2 minutes.

We had been dropped off less than 5 miles upstream, at around 5pm. It was now 1:30am. We had been gone for 8 1/2 hours. By the time anyone noticed that we were running late, the ordeal on the tree was likely already over, and we were already lost in the woods. They found our boats, but were thinking they washed ashore, so they had only been searching the water.

In the end, we found out that only one year earlier, a father and son both drowned in a spot only a few hundred yards past the tree. No bullshit. We never saw that far downstream, to know how much worse the river would get. It is likely that if it wasn’t for my inability to avoid that obstacle, my Mom or I, or possibly both of us, would not have survived that day. Thankfully, we did, and the memory of that experience will too. What a way to celebrate your 11th birthday. NOT!!

Now, I’m sure you’re asking yourself, “Where the heck is he going with this?” I’ll tell you where I’m going. I’m going straight to steroids in baseball. A, sort of, revisionist look at how the whole thing went down. More importantly, a look at why Jack Ryan could have saved the reputations of so many Hall of Fame players, if they just took his advice.

The reason why Jacks advice worked in the movie, is because he was asking The President to just tell the truth. He had been a lifelong friend to the victim, and denying it would have only raised more eyebrows. By admitting his friendship, he took the attention off himself, and put it back on the larger issue, which was his friends criminal involvements and who killed him.

We all now how the steroids issue was exposed. Jose Conseco was broke and he decided to cash in on Major League Baseballs dirty little secret. Hardly what I would call noble. Nevertheless, the bomb had exploded. Unfortunately, the vast majority of the public didn’t believe him, so the players AND the league thought they could deny it. The problem is, that the vast majority DOES NOT mean everyone.

Some journalists and investigative reporters started digging, and before long, they began substantiating Conseco’s claims. Little by little, the vast majority wasn’t so vast anymore. With each passing weak, more and more information started coming out. Meanwhile, the denials from the players started piling up. Just as Jack Ryan had intimated, with denials come more raised eyebrows. Then BALCO came along and completely removed all doubt about steroids in sports.

Certainly, this is not exactly new news, but that’s not my point. Remember, “You can’t disarm a bomb after its already gone off.” That, however, is exactly what Major League Baseball and the players tried to do. Guess what? It failed miserably. Now, a who’s who of Hall of Fame worthy players, may NEVER get in, and they have nobody else but themselves to blame. Not because they used steroids, but because they denied it.

Imagine, for a moment, that when the evidence began building up, and the Commissioner decided to move forward with the Mitchell report, that the players got out in front of it. Before BALCO. Before Congressional hearings. Before testing. Just a group of players, young and old, journeyman and star, standing together, shoulder to shoulder, admitting the problem that they had in baseball, and wanting to fix it. Not pointing blame or asking anyone to feel sorry for them, but just an honest explanation of how they had gotten to this point.

What an idea. Honesty. Something that most people would have understood and accepted. Maybe not at first, but inevitably. Furthermore, in an effort to keep the players involved, from being thought of as the only ones, you get some high profile, and not so high profile players, from the 60′s and 70′s, to stand up and be counted for the “greenies” and cocaine use of their era. All this truth would do wonders for the current batch of players who are going to have trouble getting in the H.O.F. How can you keep someone out, when users are already in? You can’t change the past, but all the current confessions make it hard to deny admission to the present day guys. The traditionalist voters would make a stand for a few years, but in the end, the players that we all know deserve to be in the Hall of Fame would get in. Eventually, the story would be history.

Unfortunately, the players AND the league blew it. Most baseball fans believe that steroids use was rampant from the late 80′s until about ’05. Probably a lot closer to Conseco’s 80% than we thought. However, all parties involved thought that they could disarm a bomb that had already gone off. Thanks to their stupidity, the Hall will be missing many deserving players. Most notably, the best 5 tool player ever, and arguably the best pitcher ever.

The funny part about it, is that they could probably still do it now, and salvage their legacies………………..but they won’t. It’s truly sad.

Assuming 25 years is considered a generation, take this example. In 1962, there were approximately 70 million smokers in the United States. In ’87, it was 80 million, and today, it is down to 60 million. Presuming that half of the smokers in ’87, smoked in ’62, and presuming the same for todays smokers, that means there have been about 140 million smokers in the U.S. in the last 50 years. This number is likely higher, but a higher number would only make my point more valid. I wanted it to be hard on me.

So here it is: About a half million people die every year from cigarette related deaths. Over 50 years, that’s 25 million people. Some of the 25 million aren’t even smokers, because second hand smoke is bad, too. Even if 24.5 million of the deaths are actual smokers, that equates to about 16%. This means that 84% of smokers will never die from cigarette related death. Yet, the people against smoking will merely cite the fact that 500,000 people a year die from cigarettes, because they know that’s a big number and it gets attention. It’s a manipulation of the numbers. I still think it is bad for you, I just don’t agree that it’s as bad as they want you to believe it is. Hell, 300,000 people per year die of issues related to obesity. You can die from eating too much food. It’s all about moderation………..and genetics.

Now, that’s not what I really wanted to talk about, but I just wanted to give an example of getting figures to say what you want them to say. I really wanted this blog to be about how large numbers can make people believe things that are not true. Case in point, the One Million Moms boycott of J.C. Penney choosing to use Ellen DeGeneres as their new spokeswoman. They actually believe that having one million members gives them some real influence. NEWSFLASH: There are 360 million other people in this country. You make up less than .3% of the population, you dumbasses. Unfortunately, in this instance, they are blinded by the fact that they think one million people is a big deal, because it’s a big number.

This way of thinking is also what is driving the gay marriage controversy. I would concede that there are more than one million people in this country against it, which is what is causing the delay in legalization. However, there are FAR more people in this country that are in favor of gay marriage, and all other gay rights, for that matter. Yet, whenever a large group of people think one way, they also think that makes them the majority. It’s ludicrous. Having a large group of morons that think like you, does NOT mean that the rest of us do. I guess in this instance, figures confuse, and the confused figure.

These examples only highlight the naivete of people. I “believe” that taxing the rich more, is a good idea. However, I “know” that the amount of money it would generate is hardly big enough in comparison to the actual debt. Therefore, it’s hardly the solution. See, isn’t that easy to figure out? I think so.

Now, grab a butt, head to J.C. Penney, support gay marriage, and enjoy your life.

I don’t think I have to tell you how proud I am of this team, and of every one of you as individuals. You have stepped on the field, week in and week out, and steadily improved in all aspects of the game. This is to be commended, considering the valuable members of our team that have been unable to play in a number of games this year. That being said, we never made excuses about those injuries, and the players who have stepped in have done progressively better as the season moved forward. Those improvements have led us to 10 consecutive victories, a trip to our 5th Superbowl in 11 seasons, and an opportunity to put all that we have learned this year to the ultimate test, in the single most important game you will ever play.

Now, in the other locker room is a team that has had their own set of adversities this year. With 2 games to go, the playoffs began for the Giants. They have played 5 consecutive win or go home games. 3 of them on the road. We have played 2. Both at home. They have been handling pressure since Christmas. Their defensive front is relentless, and their quarterback is playing as well as he has ever played. The debate about Eli Manning being an elite QB is over. HE IS ELITE! Get that in your head right now. If you walk out on that field thinking otherwise, than we’re going to be in big trouble. Additionally, they have an outstanding head coach. Tom Coughlin has one of the greatest football minds this league has ever seen. He took the Jaguars to 2 AFC Championship games, and he has the Giants in their 2nd Superbowl in 4 years. Make no mistake about it, this is a great team we’re playing, and they came here to win.

But we’re not going to let that happen. We are going to go out on that field for 4 quarters and DO OUR JOB. Plain and simple. Not because we want revenge for our week 8 loss. Not because we lost the Superbowl to them, 4 years ago. We are going to go out on that field, play Patriots football, and win this game for one reason, and one reason only. MYRA KRAFT AND THE KRAFT FAMILY!!!!!!! I don’t care about personal accomplishments. How many rings I have. How many rings Tom has. The legacy of this team. Our place in history. Dynasties. I don’t give a damn about any of that. My only concern is this game. This Championship. This trophy. In my entire career I have never wanted to win a game more than I do this one, and that’s because of the Kraft family. The loss of Myra Kraft was a huge blow to the Patriots family and I’ll be damned if we’ve come this far to let it slip away. I would give up every single accomplishment I have EVER had to be able to deliver this Championship to Bob Kraft and the Kraft family, and I know you all feel the same way. She touched us all differently but in the end, she meant something to all of us. I can’t think of a better way to honor her memory than to walk out of the tunnel tonight, play every play like it’s your last, leave it all out on the field, and BRING THAT TROPHY BACK TO NEW ENGLAND, WHERE IT BELONGS!!!!!!!!

Where do I start?

How does one truly encapsulate the raw emotion that is created within a person when they have a child? To put to words all the things that only a parent can understand. It’s a daunting task, to say the least. Especially, considering the fact that the people without kids, will read it and either “think” they understand, which they don’t, or become saddened by the fact that they have yet to experience it, which they shouldn’t. Ultimately, this will just be a small glimpse into what my life, as a parent, has been like.

Raising children is the most difficult experience that a human being can have, while simultaneously being the most completely joyous. Not a day goes by in which I don’t want to beat the crap outta my kids at some point, yet the love I have for them is deeper and stronger than anything in the universe. That feeling. That connection. That utter contentment, that comes from the innocence of your child, is virtually beyond description. But to those of us with children, it is a feeling that we experience every hour, of every day. And it is wonderful.

For me, personally, the journey began on April 26th, 1994. I remember looking at my son right after he popped out and thought, “Is he supposed to look like a conehead?” Of course, I was only 23 at the time and I had as much knowledge about babies as I did about quantum physics. Although, in retrospect, nearly 18 years have passed since that day and I have to believe I could have learned more about quantum physics during these years than I have about parenting. Who knows. What I do know is that I was undoubtedly immature for what was required, and equally unprepared for the effect that a child would have on me, emotionally.

Unfortunately, my son’s mother and I were not together. This presented me with situations that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Most notably, having to go days at a time without seeing him. At first, it didn’t matter very much. He couldn’t walk or talk, and was generally pretty boring. But then comes the first smile, the first laugh, the first Daddy, and of course, biggest of all, the first I Love You. Then it ALL changes. I think it’s because no matter how much that little person means to you, that meaning increases 10 fold on the day you know that you mean something to them, too. On that day, reality sets in and you know from that point forward, that you are living your life to make their life as great as you possibly can.

Of course, there is no guarantee of success. In the case of my first son, I made a lot of mistakes, as did his mother. We worked together, as best we could, to do things right, but have forgiven ourselves for the things we did wrong. At least I have. Our son has had his share of bad behavior over the years, but deep down he is genuinely one of the most caring and loving people I know. He is also very smart. Much smarter than he thinks he is. However, as is the case with some teenagers, he rarely applies himself. He’s also very lazy. More so than most teenagers. That is one of the hardest things to take as a parent. Mostly because you think like an adult and can’t grasp the idea of loafing it. You doubt yourself as a parent and constantly attempt to go back in your mind, trying to pinpoint where you began messing things up. That never works though. Ultimately, you have to stop dwelling on the past and think about the future. Sometimes it takes action to get your kids to straighten up and fly right. Sometimes tough love is necessary. Good parents know this, and do what they have to do. It hurts, and you hate it, but ignoring it and doing nothing could have much worse longterm consequences.

One of the biggest quandaries you will ever face as a parent, of a teenager, is trying to convince your child that you “understand.” NEWSFLASH: They Won’t Believe You. In their world, nothing is, as it was, when we were kids. They are the gatekeepers of the present, and we are just lucky that they let us get away with listening to LMFAO. They think we can’t possibly understand how it is for them today. You can tell them until you’re blue in the face about how you had “take the keys” parties in the 80′s, but they think you’re full of it. “You just don’t want me to have any fun” & “Tim and Mike’s parents are letting them go” will be the complaints du jour. Of course, when you tell them that you said the exact same thing to your parents 25 years ago, it will only compound the distain that they have for you, at that moment. You are now mocking them………..and enjoying every minute of it, I might add. Yes. Yes, I am.

Sometimes, after a long break in the action, you decide to give it another go and have more children. In a lot of ways, I think this is a good thing. You’ve had plenty of time to grow up and mature. More importantly, you have unlearned many of the bad habits that you had the first time around, and can attempt to do a better job this time. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. Chances are, I will just make all new mistakes this time. Oh well.

In the past 5 years I have had two more children. A boy and a girl. This time the family structure is intact. No part time parenting. An everyday commitment that requires many skills. Cooking and cleaning. Teaching, punishing, negotiating and rewarding. Best of all, kissing, hugging, loving and laughing. Although I know I’m not covering them all, as parents we appreciate all aspects of our job. In many ways, my youngest kids help to remind me of the all great moments I had with my oldest one. I am so thankful for that. It feels great to remember.

It also feels great to remember my own childhood. At 23, I don’t think I cared to remember, but at 41 it’s fantastic. Trying to think back to 1975, shortly before I turned 5, and extracting snippits of memories. Then looking at my boy, who is almost 5 and thinking, ” Man, that’s how big I was when “that” happened.” It’s crazy. Children are a window into our own past, in more ways than we realize. Not a single day goes by, where my two little ones don’t put a smile on my face. The strange thing about it though, is that it’s never for the same reason two days in a row. One day it’s an accomplishment, the next it’s a thank you at just the right time, or one day it’s because you quietly come around the corner in time to see your son fixing the covers on his sleeping sister, so she doesn’t get cold. Those moments, make anything bad about your day, disappear. They may cause you a great deal of stress sometimes, but when the stress comes from something other than them, they know how to make it all go away, with the simplest of actions or the most comforting of words. “Daddy, I love you” is the greatest stress reliever ever.

That is, of course, until they realize that those words might actually get them out of trouble. Then, the reality of parenting slaps you right in the face. Bastards.