Several images flash through a father’s mind upon learning he has a son. Visions of great deeds and heroic ventures (feats far surpassing the father’s achievements) are followed by flashes of the grueling parental work necessary to achieve such glory. Then arrives a thrilling and less encumbering image: that of a couch, some chips, and a TV. A son is the ideal mate to watch one's favorite team!
No more halftimes destroyed by a friend that has to go home to a demanding wife! Fortified by shared passion for a team handed down from one generation to the next, games are transformed from marital distraction into the very roots of male American family bonding. What a deal!
Such hand offs are a social requirement in some societies. In Brazil, where the world’s eighth largest economy is swayed by the performance of their beloved "A Seleção", a son that fails to revere the yellow and blue will disgrace his father. Being an ardent Duke fan and alum, I understand this ... because you are my traitor son.
"Daddy, I'm a Maryland Terrapin!"
I was shocked. One moment I was your father, the next, a violated DNA delivery machine. I'd been seducing you into the Duke Nation, fulfilling your destiny and my vision (or perhaps the other way around). Yet "Go Duke!" chants rolled sleepily off your tongue into bored nothingness. This sudden alignment with the Twerps was a titanic disaster.
I had Joe to thank at Addie Bassin's Wine Shop. An ardent Maryland fan, he plotted against me. All it took was a timely lollipop to buy your allegiance. I sealed the deal by overreacting, "WHAT ?!?!?!?!" My theatrics were not only entertaining, but the Luke-mind is adept at identifying leverage. Becoming a Maryland Terrapin was a new chip to play!
|"Poddy" by Luke Weller|
Your sense of humor is evidence of an awakening emotional intelligence that thrills me. You identify subtle interpersonal undercurrents and play off them. Honestly, you are becoming a complex and highly entertaining person. I'm so proud of you.