My 12-year-old son Jacob and I have come to an understanding regarding my annoying behaviors, when he plays baseball. For games I am coaching, on the way to the ballpark, we would scan the radio for a “closer song” to pump us up. You see in Major League Baseball, usually the closer runs to the pitching mound to an intense rock anthem. It is intended to strike fear in the opposing team, pump up the closer, and get the crowd on its feet. The most prominent example was probably Mariano Rivera entering New York Yankee games to Metallica’s “Enter Sandman.” Since I liked to use Jacob as my closer, I encouraged him to use Fall Out Boy’s “My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark (Light ‘Em Up).” The song has nothing to do with baseball, but oh what a rock anthem to use when coming in to shut the door on your opponent.
For games where I was not coaching, I preferred playing head cheerleader. This role developed over time into a standard set of cheers for the crowd, in addition to one of my favorite rituals, teasing whatever player was assigned to stand in foul territory and warm up the Right Fielder. My favorite cheer, [one side of crowd] “Let’s Go” [the other side] “Red Sox!” My favorite teasing moment, which I only used once to perfection, where I belted out like Alicia Keys, “That boy is on fire!” Yes, strange, but very funny in the moment. Trust me.
Now for today’s dilemma. This Winter, at a new school, Jacob joined the Speech Team. He really seems to have a knack for it. He really seems to enjoy it. Only problem, what to do with his extra extrovert father at the tournaments? Well, I think we’ve figured this out. Before the event, I can be a little silly. Loosen Jacob up a tad. Get him relaxed and distracted. Not embarrass him in front of his new friends. Behave and be normal at the event (very hard for me to do). Be silly again afterward. Ah, a strategy that works for society, as well as Dave.
So today on the way to the tournament, we scanned the dial. Even though it wasn’t a save situation, a “closer song” seemed appropriate. That’s when a musical gift from above came on the radio, Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It.” Perfect!
Behave at the event. Check. Even I can do that for two hours.
Go to Mall of America (MOA) afterward, where money tends to vanish and you can feel free to act however you like. There’s so many people, no one will even notice or care. Perfect!
Venting with a little post speech event silliness in the exorbitantly priced, but still fun, MOA photo booth.
Now I just need to refrain from dressing like Dee Snider at the next Speech Tournament. You can do it, dad. It’s a brave new world, be strong.