Crevasses and Alpines

Not having the firsthand experience of fatherhood, I can only imagine that one of the most satisfying moments a parent can experience is helping your child gain understanding of a concept that will remain constant throughout life.

My siblings and I were blessed with great teachers in our parents. More often than not, however, they taught us to teach ourselves. Sometimes the lessons were, and still are, rather painful. My father's lessons were sports related and taught through the Socratic method. He would ask questions, each answer followed up by another question. The process allowed me to refine my thinking, clarify my thoughts, and find an answer for myself. Dad wasn't Reverend Maclean, but he was close to it.

Sometimes the messages are incomplete and sometimes difficult to understand. But as the good Reverend preached, complete understanding isn't always possible.

A pivotal moment in my life occurred almost exactly sixteen years ago. It was late October/early November and the World Series had just ended, the A's sweeping the Giants. You may remember The Bay Bridge Series interrupted by an earthquake moments before Game Three started. My dad started off the conversation by noting that the A's had played in the previous year's World Series, but lost to the Dodgers 4 games to 1. Picture Kirk Gibson limping around the bases in Game One pumping his fist while Dennis Eckersley scratched his head wondering what went wrong with that backdoor slider.

The manager was the same, by dad pointed out. Furthermore, the team roster was essentially the same from the previous year. What had changed, he asked.

My first thought was that nothing had changed. If anything, the Athletics just got a streak of luck and rode it on home. But that was the easy, and incorrect, answer.

I thought for a moment then the correct answer slapped me across the face: it was experience.

In 1988, the A's met their goal of getting to the World Series, true. But borrowing the analogy of Richard Nixon, they had to walk through the dark valley in order to understand the majesty of the peak. Sometimes, lessons can only be taught through losing.

Now, I have a further, less poignant, answer. In 1988, Canseco and McGwire weren't properly juiced. The difference was not cerebral, it was chemical.

But sitting in that passenger's seat, the insecure teenager looked over at his father and caught a satisfied glimpse that the walls of ignorance had been breached.

On a similar but unrelated note, I've been listening a lot to Sinatra, but the older and wiser Sinatra. The Sinatra looking back on his life and singing that his regrets were too few to mention, but more as a way to convince himself and not the listener.

The song that has been stuck in my head for the past couple of days is Cycles, which essentially reinforces what my dad taught me, or what I taught myself when I was almost exactly half the age I am now.

So I'm down and so I'm out, but so are many others
So I feel like tryin' to hide my head 'neath these covers
Life is like the seasons after winter comes the spring
So I'll keep this smile awhile, and see what tomorrow brings
I've been told and I believe that life is meant for livin'
And even when my chips are low, there's still some left for givin'
I've been many places maybe not as far as you
So I think I'll stay awhile, and see if some dreams come true

There isn't much that I have learned through all my foolish years
Except that life keeps runnin' in cycles
First there's laughter, then those tears
But I'll keep my head up high although I'm kinda tired
My gal just up and left last week, Friday I got fired
You know it's almost funny, but things can't get worse than now
So I'll keep on tryin' to sing, but please, just don't ask me how