Cowboys & Camping

In my humble opinion, one of the most enjoyable parts of being a parent is doing all the firsts. You know what I am talking about. Everyone documents their child’s first anything. First cry, first food, first smile, first time rolling over, first time pooping something that actually resembles poop… “firsts” are so special because they are the first!! Also, I am a really sentimental guy — no shame — so the first time Nolan does a variety of acts will always be held deep as special memories for me.

Along this vein, I have a God-given talent to pair special memories with or around a sport/sporting event. I recall back to literally the night after I met my wife because she was at a Nuggets game — Friday December 3. I remember more than one trip to see my grandparents in Texas because of sports; one trip during the 2001 Super Bowl where the Ravens beat the Giants and one during the NBA Playoffs where my Opa’s favorite Spurs took on Chris Paul, Tyson Chandler, and the Hornets. I also will always remember our family vacation for Labor Day 1998, as it was my first Broncos football game — Monday Night Football vs the Patriots. I also remember that night because my brother got a full beer spilled on him by some weird stranger. Seriously how could you forget THAT?!? I don’t connect everything to sports but it is rather easy for me to do in most cases.

All that being said, this past weekend was filled with two very exciting firsts for Nolan. Most exciting for me was that this weekend was my son’s first Wyoming Cowboys football game. Right now, it is inevitable that one of the 50 page views I’ll get on this blog post are asking themselves “Where the &*(% is Wyoming??” My only hope is that this page view is from California and that they do not ever, ever find out where it is located. To everyone else, I say this: Wyoming Football and the University of Wyoming holds a large piece of my heart. I was born and raised in the great state, and spent four years earning a bachelor’s degree from the school. I also spent many nights of my childhood listening to the velvet voice of Dave Walsh calling football and basketball games on local AM radio, and it was his nearly insufferable sidekick Kevin McKinney that at one point made me want to enter journalism broadcasting. I ended up in engineering, and I actually love K-Mac now so…things change. I follow the Pokes (suck it, Oklahoma St) with the unrivaled passion.

Standing outside the stadium in front of my “brick in the wall”. GO POKES!

The opportunity to introduce my 7-month old son to the joys of Cowboy football last Saturday ranks up there with storming the field after the 2009 New Mexico Bowl victory and the 44-0 drubbing of that state school in Colorado a few years back. It was a beautiful day in Laramie, especially for being mid-October. The wind was “calm” at only 15 mph and the air was crisp and balmy at 35 degrees for most of the game. My little man was bundled up in more layers than an onion, wearing an awesome WYO jacket and an even cooler giraffe stocking hat. The football was good — great even — as the Pokes ran out to a huge lead against New Mexico, let them climb back into the game, and then crushed their Lobo hearts. A moment I’ll never forget was the first WYO score. The Wyoming Army ROTC has a cannon they shoot off after every score and during the National Anthem. After that first score — a Shaun Wick run after an explosively quick 1-minute 33-second opening drive — I immediately put my hands over Nolan’s ears to shield the BOOM, and then celebrated with high-fives all around. I laugh even replaying it in my head days later, but a part of me is proud that the parental instincts overcame all.

The other big first for Nolan this weekend was his first pseudo-camping trip. Grandpa and Grammie recently bought a camping trailer, and this was the first time that we got to see it and stay in it. It is a far cry from the camper they had when I was a baby, and is way nicer than the big fifth-wheel trailer the family had when I was growing up. We had so many fun trips going camping though, fishing and four-wheeling and just enjoying both the beautiful outdoors and family. Staying in a KOA campground this last weekend made me really miss all of that, even if we weren’t truly camping, which has Mrs. Pickle already mentally preparing for the day when I come home and say, “Babe, we’re buying a camper”. It was so much nicer to have your own “home” instead of a hotel room, and a lot cheaper too. I realize that Nolan won’t remember most of this first camping trip, of course, but there was one piece of it that really meant a lot to me. When it came to sleeping arrangements, it was Grandpa on the top bunk and Nolan on the bottom — barricaded by an assortment of objects to keep him secured overnight. Why such a little thing made me smile so big, I don’t know. Maybe it is because I love seeing how much Nolan means to him, and to my mom. It reminded me of back when I’d go to a summer camp, and you always wanted your buddy to sleep in the same bunk as you — you know?

So there are two more “firsts” checked off the list. Next up for our monster will be crawling, teeth, and sitting up on his own which leaves Josie and I wondering where 7 months went. In any case, I can’t wait for the days when Nolan will be out in the garage, “helping” me with a project and listening to Dave Walsh call out another WYO win..

Happy Cowboy, Happy Camper

A(nother) New Adventure!

The last couple of weeks have been extremely exciting for me, personally. Let me back up to a long, long time ago — when I was just a wee young lad. I may have mentioned it before, because I seem to find some sort of pride in this little fact, but my parents used to set me in front of a sports game and I would be content for hours. I trace all of my fanatical following of sports back to this early childhood development. Through the years my love and passion for the world of sports grew, and probably reached an unhealthy level. I like to think that after I met Mrs. Pickle I came back to earth a little bit and rejoined reality, which happens to include a lot of things other than sports. That all being said it is a rare day that I do not watch some sporting event, or SportsCenter. When I am in Calgary on business, I even prefer SportsCentre.

It’s 9 minutes long and worth it all.

No really go back. Watch it.

Are you done? Did you at least get to the Thanksgiving joke? Ok then, let’s proceed.

In the driveway of my house I used to spend hours playing 1-on-1. By myself. While commentating the game. Myself. I mean I was the cake and I ate it too. For a long time while growing up all I wanted to become was a sportscaster and/or sportswriter. Then I got older and realized the world of sportswriting is just downright cruel. Did you know that not everyone gets to work for ESPN?? I decided to head a different direction for my career, and I couldn’t be happier. But — as all who know this blog know by now — the Jar is never at rest. We always find one more thing to do; one more adventure to embark on.

So without further adieu I am letting all of my 7 tremendously dedicated followers know that I have joined a MLB blog for the Colorado Rockies as a staff writer. (Please don’t panic, it is not a full-time position and I am keeping the job that currently pays the bills/mortgage.) The blog is called Rox Pile and I am very, very excited to join them in analysis of the Rockies. What can I say, childhood dreams die hard! Feel free to follow along and give me any feedback you’d like. Just don’t say anything controversial, or mean, or just plain hurtful. Because I know each and every one of you, and I will hunt you down.

Just kidding.

But seriously.

Go check it out!

 

Fandom and Impending Fatherhood — Part 1

Fatherhood and Fandom don’t usually coexist. At least not in the early years. If you try to impose coercion on the two, legend suggests your wife may find a new place for you to sleep. Maybe by the time high school sports roll around, a father is allowed to indulge again in the hours upon hours of ESPN that consumed his college years. But just about every young and/or new father I see says “Huh? There was a game on last night?” to which I politely respond “YES YOU BUFFOON!!”. I am beginning to realize that it will not be long before the stupid, sleepless gaze stares back at some fatherless dude as they tell me about the amazing games I missed last night while I changed yet another loaded diaper. Yet sometimes fandom just can’t be stopped.

As a baby myself, I have often been told that a swing chair and a basketball game would keep me quiet for hours. There is a rumor (unfounded?) that my first words were “alley-oop”. Ok maybe they were my second words.

I couldn’t have been more than 7 when I had my first taste of being a fan. My high school football team was ridiculously good at that point in time, or at least they were good for Wyoming 3A. Dad would take us down on Friday nights to watch the game. I remember only one player from that time — Cody Nicholson. He was a stud running back. I remember in one game he ran literally untouched 90 yards for a score. One night in McDonalds I asked for his autograph. I can’t make that up.

Not a lot of Colorado Rockies fans can say they saw a Rockies game from the friendly confines of Mile High Stadium. That’s right, for the first two years of their existence my beloved Rockies played on the Broncos’ hallowed ground. I still remember sitting high above right field and watching the Braves come to town, straining to see all my favorite players. I was even lucky enough to go with my Dad, uncle, and cousin and sit 4 rows above the “dugout” one night. Those images are blazed into my brain.

Most people also couldn’t tell you what they were doing on Monday, June 10, 1996. It was summer; I was 9, and the Stanley Cup Finals were in Florida. Late into the night (and actually on into Tuesday morning) I watched the Colorado Avalanche win the Stanley Cup. It was significant to me for many reasons: It was the Avs first season in Denver, it was a three overtime game that was tied 0-0 until a defenseman ironically and fittingly knocked in the game winner, and it was after midnight and I was still up. It was one of the greatest nights of my life. I can still remembering silently exulting as Patrick Roy jumped up and down on the ice. I wanted to jump up and down so badly but Mom had been upstairs just a couple of OTs earlier to tell me to go to bed. She obviously didn’t know what was on the line and I didn’t need to wake her back up to tell her. After the Avs won the 2001 Stanley Cup, Mom brought my brother and I home Avs pennants. I think she got it.

I’ve watched an incredible Rockies comeback victory over the Red Sox in Coors Field with my Dad (“Dad, Jason Giambi is about to put this over our heads”… and then he did), watched Troy Tulowitzki hit for the cycle against the Cubs with my cousin, traveled to Phoenix to watch Albert Pujols jack two home runs with my brother, stormed my living room when Wyoming beat UCLA in the Las Vegas Bowl alone, and stormed the field when Wyoming beat Fresno State in the New Mexico Bowl with my best friends. I can even remember the first “date” I ever got with Mrs. Pickle (Dec 5, Denver Broncos vs Kansas City Chiefs). I once attended 4 pro sports events over 10 days in the middle of finals week (easier than it sounds). In fact I can pinpoint several huge events in my life purely based off of a sports event surrounding it. Sports and I just fit.

Because of all this, fandom is something I treasure to my core. To me being a fan is a lot of things. It’s not just wearing a jersey to every game (I don’t even own a jersey). It isn’t knowing every player’s bio down to the name of their goldfish for your team. In my eyes, fandom is much deeper. You feel the joy, you feel the frustration. It all becomes a part of you. This part of me is something that I really want to pass down to my son. I find myself watching games and going over in my head just how I could teach him why that play worked so well, and why this team struggled so much. I want to explain that sometimes pitching “backwards” is better because everyone is sitting on your fastball, and that running the draw play five times in a row sometimes opens up your receiver deep over the top.

Last weekend Mrs. Pickle and I went to a high school basketball game mostly because our neighbor is the head coach. He has been telling me how good of a team he has this year, how athletic they are. And they were playing the #1 team in the state, so why not check it out? We got there and it was standing room only (not preferred with a 6+ month pregnant wife) and after fighting for a couple of seats, we happened to find ourselves next to two very white dads and their sons who were probably 10-12 years old. After the first quarter the guys leaned down and were saying, “Hey boys what do you think!? Pretty cool huh? Think you could go out and hoop it up with these fellas?!?” I couldn’t help but smile. No, it wasn’t over the fact that we had just watched a bunch of high schoolers fly around and dunk it, while their two boys tripped over the bleachers going to get popcorn… I was proud that these guys took the time to pass down some fandom.

How do I plan to pass fandom down to my son?… Let’s just leave that for another day.

Violent Cuteness

What do Chris Brown and Baby Nolan have in common? ERRGH, wrong. They’ve both hit a woman. That’s right people, CB hit Rihanna. I don’t care if she asked him to do it, a hit is a hit.
Speaking of hits, this baby has got a mean right hook on him. Lately he has been demonstrating this new skill often and I have to be a quiet, measured mix of proud and sad. Proud that my son has a little fight in him, sad because when Mrs P gets a little fist in the ribs I would be stupid to laugh. But it’s funny! About four times (that I’ve witnessed) in the past week Mrs Pickle will all of the sudden jump, wince, and mutter “knock it off punk!”. It’s awesome. One night I was having a nightly conversation with the boy discussing the utter disgrace that is the pick-and-roll in the NBA, when WHAM! he got me. Right in the hand, which was close to my face. Not bad for a guy with his eyes closed! It truly is the perfect mix of violence and precious cuteness.

This kid really has a spectacular sense of timing though. Lately he has been keeping his mother up during the all-important nap time. I’ve tried to tell him this is not how you get on your mom’s good side but he doesn’t seem to care. I love it. He’s ruthless. The bad part is that apparently my snoring has been keeping the Mrs up at night. So neither one of us are in her good graces at this time. Won’t be the last time, I’m sure, but we really should help each other out ya know? Same team Nolan!

Ok so I think it’s pretty obvious what we have on our hands: a hockey player. Anybody else getting this? No? Let me help.
Ruthless – check.
Mild violence with a crucial right hook – check.
Cuteness to help land a smokin’ hot wife (a la Carrie Underwood) – check.
These three qualities are the crucial makeup of a hockey star. C’mon, it is well known hockey players (while maybe missing a couple teeth) have the hottest wives (how is Care-Bear #7!?) next to NASCAR drivers and, of course, engineers. And what do we all have in common? Innate toughness and missing teeth — you bet!

It’s becoming more and more apparent he is taking after his dear old dad.
Pure unparalleled awesomeness.

P.s. Mrs P: don’t worry about the whole losing teeth thing, it’s highly unlikely I’m right.

Disclaimer: The fact I’ve been watching hockey all night in no way influenced this post.