October 8 Sunday Scribblings

Jim is an average Joe. He watched his son play football today... and his team lost. Jim was on the sidelines cheering the team on all they way, even cheering with the cheerleaders and telling them, "You girls rock!" Jim's son is age 8 playing football for the first time. Jimbo isn't getting any younger. At age 37, he is getting to relive some of his own football glory through his son, although today wasn't so glorious. A 38 to 19 loss, to be exact. But Jim yelled till his lungs were tired and his throat was raw. That's what he does every weekend.

Jim is about six feet three inches tall, in pretty good physical shape with curly blonde hair and a cleanshaven face. Not handsome by today's standards, but not awful to look at, either. There are two things that endear him to his friends and the ladies. Not his height, nor his physique, nor even his golden hair. Not his high school football trophies, and not his $90K job, either. Not even the red Mustang GT convertible that he drives. One thing is his infectious laughter, laughter that comes from deep within the belly. Sincere laughter. The kind of laughter that comes from truly enjoying everything life has to offer. The other thing people find is they are hypnotized by his clear turquoise eyes, the kind of eyes that remind you of the ocean, that you could dive into and swim in the coolness of their translucence.

So, why is Jim alone at the game? He's not a wife-beater. He's not a cheater. He's not even a penny-pinching Scrooge. So what is it? He's too nice. Yep. Too nice. His wife left him for a man of more drama and mystery. His heart was shattered. Since then, he's found that the women he dates don't want to be treated chivalrously. They seem to expect a man to be uncouth, foul-mouthed, selfish schemers, and when they find he isn't, they leave him.

He's a good dad, and the kids come first. There are two. The 8 year old and a 4 year old boy who would rather paint that play sports. But that's okay with Jim. Although he wishes both his boys would be interested in football, he is completely accepting of the differences in his children. He shares custody of the boys with his ex-wife, and the two of them get along as though there never was a disagreement between them. There probably wasn't. Jim would've hung the moon for Patricia if she'd let him. There just wasn't enough excitment for her.

So Jim is alone at the game today, just like last week and the week before that, wearing cut off jeans, sneakers, and a plain white tee shirt, screaming his head off and encouraging the boys to do their best. Was it different for him in high school? Well, that's another story.