I’m writing this post as I sit comfortably on my Acela train on the way to Philadelphia listening to the Warriors vs. Cavs game (booked especially for you Deepak) getting texts from my wife about the trials and tribulations of her evening which consisted of a never ending game of whose bed is this anyway. So, given this context, it’s quite possible and understandable that none of these top 5 will come to fruition. Remember, these are just one man’s musings about his ideal Father’s Day experience(s). Perhaps your man is more mature than me, or has better fashion sense, or doesn’t struggle with the same insecurities I have about his athletic prowess as a 5’8 Jewish kid who kept waiting for puberty to add the extra six inches I felt I needed to get that baseball scholarship to Stanford. But I digress, here is my top 5!
Wardrobe labeling system:
I’m pretty sure that if I was a superhero, my moniker would be Captain Clash, capable of blinding you into submission with a lethal combination of brights and stripes. I have a decent selection of ties, shirts of all iterations, but every single fucking time I try and figure out what to wear for a meeting, I invariably have to ask Emily, whether it matches. You think I know that patterns on stripes can work, but when you have a pinstriped suit, your options are limited unless you’re going solid on either shirt or tie (or both). Fuck me. I only recently learned that black wasn’t a color but rather a shade. Is my request too much to ask? I need you to explicitly identify which shirts go with which ties, and with what pants because I’m flummoxed. Truly, make a grid, label it, take pictures of various outfits with either approve or a big x through it. I don’t care what the system is, just can I have one. It’ll be the gift that keeps on giving for both you and me.
Tickets to an annual sporting event:
Look, I’m going top shelf on some of these. So, Celtics vs. Knicks at MSG would be killer as would regular season Pats or Sox tickets (and if you can somehow convince the boys to come with me to a game, that’s a bonus). But, I’m about to go to the NBA Draft next Thursday, an event which is three years in the making, ever since the Celts pulled off the coup that was the KG and Paul Pierce trade with the Nets. Like many Celts fans I know, game 1 of the Eastern Conference finals was more important to me as Lottery Night, and my heart was a bit crushed when we only got the 3rd pick, but in Danny we Trust. So, what’s next? Well, I’ve never been to an All Star game in any sport. Ditto to the Final Four. My buddy is currently at the Warriors potential close out game with his wife (update: they lost), now that’s what I’m talking about. I never said these were all realistic ones, but hey, a man can dream can’t he?
Tickets to a music festival:
I think it was 2005 that we went to Bonnaroo for an epic music experience. Friends from philly and from college all gathered to party for 3 days and listen to music. Interestingly, the highlights from that weekend were hearing John Mayer shred on guitar with Herbie Hancock as part of the Headhunters and the fact that they had a batting cage set up at the festival. Yeah, David Ellowitch, you go make your drum, I’ll be right here at the cages reliving my childhood at Fox Point, Route 44, and the Classical High baseball team. The lineup was insane and included the likes of Government Mule, Trey, Bela Fleck, Jurassic 5, and the list goes on and on. Now, 3 kids later the festival ship has sailed, but maybe, just for a day, we can retreat to acting like 25 year olds again. I actually saw that the Roots have a festival in NYC but the dates don’t jive with our schedules. I mean seriously, is there a cooler mother f’er than Questlove. Since that can’t happen, what about me, my lady, and the Real Slim Shady?
I think this was given to me for Father’s Day two years ago. The actual festival was 1-5, but the limo ride was a clutch touch. And if you think we came home to help with bedtime, you don’t know how I roll. Just chalk this up to a day minus your husband because the day can’t end with milky, bathtub wars, or the previously documented songs to get your kid to go the F to sleep. And really, this could be a brewery tour, a winery tour, or whatever you fancy? Are you a toy bank collector, a picture of nectar? Do you crochet or play croquet? The list is practically endless. The point is, this was a day where we could hang out with dudes, all other dads in the times I’ve gone, and not talk about kids. Truly, it’s refreshing as I’m sure ladies’ nights are when you’re not talking about kids, but secretly we hope that you’re talking about how dead sexy your men are, which you’re not, but we wait up for you anyway because hey, it could happen.
Field Day . . . but for us:
Truth be told, I didn’t attend Miles’ field day this year, but he loved it. I kind of heard it was a little lame because the games were a bit soft, but make no mistake, a day like this for me would be legendary. Back at Schechter we celebrated Lag BaOmer, which is a holiday that celebrates fire, bows and arrows, and the Kabbalah. Now, let me clarify something about our version. We didn’t build a bonfire from what I recall nor shoot a bow and arrow, and come to think of it, I’m not sure we studied the Kabbalah on that day, but we had Field Day, and that shit got real. So, would I be looking to relive my youth at one of these? Damn straight. Bring the women, bring the kids, and let us get some testosterone out with various athletic pursuits, and then 5 minutes in quit because injuries have put us on the 15 day dl, so then we just grill out and chill out. But man, that would be a glorious day.