September 28, 2004
No sports today
Today is a non-sports related entry. I can't write about sports all the time because 1) I really don't have that much to say and 2) what I do have to say probably isn't that original anyway. So, if you are hear to read about the Twins, or the Vikings, or the stadium issue, sorry to disappoint.
Yesterday I posted a picture of my younger son playing video games. As you can probably see, he really gets into it. He jumps around and screams and generally works himself into a sweat playing any type of video game. It is very humorous to watch. Another thing that is very humorous is that if I'm playing with him or against him, he will also start to talk trash to me. Yes, my six year old son will talk trash, but not just any type of trash talk, six year old trash talk. Let me explain. Our favorite game to play Super Smash Brothers, a game in which you try to whomp the other player off the playing field, so he is constantly saying to me, "Hey Dad, I got a present for you! BOOOOM!" as he tries to smack me. And whenever he does he'll usually follow that with a "Uh huh, its my birthday! Its my birthday!" However, the coup de gras of all trash talk, the one I hear most often happens either when he really lays down the smack on my character or when he beats me. He will quote Finding Nemo when Marlin and Dory fend off the Glow fish. He will sing to me, "No eating here tonight, eating here tonight. You on a diet!" That is when I know things have really gone his way and I have been truly humbled. Trash talk from a six year old. You gotta love it.
Yesterday I had an adventure. But it really probably won't strike you as that exciting. Much like six year old trash talk, this is an adventure only a 31 year old father of 3 can have. So, I was riding the bus home when I remembered, "Uh oh, my bus pass is screwed up. The meter probably won't take it." Sure enough, when I went to pay, the meter read "MISREAD" and it spit my card back out. Usually this wouldn't be a problem since the bus drivers are pretty nice about that. But this is the second time this has happened and I knew that the bus driver on my transfer would be on to me, or think I am trying to rip him off. So, in other words, I had to walk home from the Louisiana Transit Center, at least a 3 mile walk.
I know, boo hoo. Exercise would probably do me good at this point, anyway, so I started walking. And walking. And walking. Quite frankly I was getting sick of it. Then I saw the Minneapolis Golf Club golf course. Now, one thing you probably don't know about me is that I practically live on the Minneapolis Golf Club golf course. This isn't because I am rich, or because I have a membership, though. I have heard that a membership costs upwards of $40,000 a year, so I was of the opinion that I would never set foot on the course, which is kind of sad since I live so close to it. Heh heh, you probably know where I am going with this.
I live on the west side of the course, and I was walking on the northeast side. I looked through the yards of the houses on the course and I noticed that unlike the poor saps like me, these folks do not have a fence between them and the course. I had a choice. Either I could choose to walk another mile, at least, around the course on the street to get to my house, or I could cut through the course and save myself a considerable amount of walking. I said to myself, "How can they keep me off the course? I practically live on the course! I am their neighbor! They should welcome me on the course!" And so on. The justifications of a desperate man.
So, needless to say, I sprinted up through one of the yards on the course, and I quickly found myself stepping on my first fairway of the Minneapolis Golf Club. It was beautiful. Then the panic struck. I am an idiot! I am trespassing! And not only that, I am trespassing on some really, really rich guys' property! So, I start to run. And much like my cat when she gets outside I start to run without really knowing where I am going. I mean, I had never been on the course before. I would run across a fairway and then duck into some bushes to catch my breath and make sure no one saw me. And then I would race across another fairway like I was an East Berliner trying to escape into the west. Around fountains and tress, past water hazards and sand traps, it was exhilirating and very tiring.
I thought to myself, "How is this better than just walking around the course?" as I grew more and more tired from the constant running, but I was determined to make it across without anyone seeing me. Finally I reached my goal. The Golf Club swimming pool. It is on the street I live so I knew where I was, and I knew where I had to go. However, to get there I had to cross the driving range. If ever there spot someone would see me, it was on the driving range. I take a peek to make sure no one is there, and I sprint across. Out of the corner of my eye I catch a big flash, a reflection of light, and in a panic I whirl around a look at what I was sure was my eventual captor. I thought, "You won't take me without a fight!!!" as I prepared to launch myself into the freedom of the street, but lo and behold it was just a huge mirror reflecting the sun light. Strange, I thought. I guess these rich golfers want to make sure they look really good on the course.
With my final bit of strength, I climbed the hill to the street. I had made it. Looking back on it now I probably could have just leisurely strolled across the course. Would they have really cared? In fact, they probably did see me from the club house over-looking the course. I can just imagine a grounds keeper looking down at me and saying, "Hey Joe! Come over here and get a load of this guy. He thinks he is a fugitive or MacGyver or something." Ah, but it was the thrill of the run. The thought that maybe I was doing something wrong and that if I was caught I would be in big trouble. I have never felt so alive!!!
And I saved myself a ton of walking. Thus ends my story. Back to our regularly scheduled programming.
I have to know... did you have the Mission: Impossible theme going through your head as you were stealthily going across the course?
Also, just so all the readers here know, I have seen Shane and Anders play this game and have heard the trash talking in person. Don't let Shane fool you, he's trash talking back to Anders. Anders wins quite often though.
Posted by: Cheesehead Craig at September 28, 2004 9:34 AM
I can't believe you have this golf course experience after the swimming season is over. NEXT summer, I am swimming in that pool if it kills me. And no, not the boring, expensive, legitimate way. I am jumping the fence!!! Any tips? Great story, too funny.
Posted by: Wife of Cheesehead at September 28, 2004 12:36 PM
Ha! Yes, Mission Impossible was going through my head! I should have mentioned that. And yes, I also do my own fair share of trash talk. I have to show these kids how it is done.
And Rachel, what would you have had me do? Just stroll up to the pool and jump in or something? Next summer we'll have to race across the course together!
Posted by: Shane at September 28, 2004 1:02 PM
Dude, You jump the fence and swim in the pool at night until the cops come. About next summer, why wait, I think this will be the new sport event in the suburbs: the Minneapolis CC 1.75K Run/Walk.
Where do I sign up?
Posted by: Running Wild at September 28, 2004 8:27 PM
I read through all the stadium stuff mumbo jumbo and came across this commentary about no sports today and had to laugh! I pictured my lanky brother trying to look undercover and un-noticable, running across the golf course. It nearly brought tears to my eyes. Thanks for the good laugh. My comments will be brief, My brother got the good writing gene. Is there such a thing?
carrie senske-big sister
Posted by: Carrie Senske at October 5, 2004 12:51 PM