He's a Man

It was in the wee hours of Feb 23, 2002 when I was awakened to drive to the hospital.

The same hospital I was born in. The same one my father died in.

And now, a few hours later, the same hospital that my son was born in.

Sean is 18 today.

I suppose it's safe to say that he's not just a man but that he's the man. Yet, it's always been that way with him.

I've written so much about him that the stories are likely tiring.

Sean is full of surprises. The explosive smile of his baby years has turned into a weapon that he keeps hidden behind the angst of a teenager.

He's weary beyond his years yet still has that naivete that, as a father, I like seeing.

He is his own man. Sean, as I always say, is Sean.

The affection and the hugs have gone behind a wall. It's OK, but of course, it's not OK.

As parents, we wrestle with everything. We want them to not be us but, at the same time, we want them to be happy. I don't want him to make the same mistakes as me.

I worry so much about exactly how I've screwed this great young man up. I worry about -- well -- everything.

But I'm also so proud. Like I said, he's full of surprises.

Need to tell someone a secret? Tell Sean. He'll listen (at least I think he's listening) but it won't go anywhere.

Glance at a report card and stare in wonder at all of the 90s on it because school seems like a place he just goes to because he has to. Yet there's more behind those eyes than you'll ever know.

And his humor? That's his biggest surprise -- his best weapon -- of all. He can rip off a pun or one-liner that can cut the toughest person at their knees.

Sadly, I can't cite examples only because they're, er, private.

We've seen a lot in 18 years. New Orleans, Virginia, Vermont, Canada, Cooperstown, North Carolina, Pennsylvania.

People scoff at the adventures to Waffle House or Wawa or Golden Corral. Well, laugh away. It's part of the adventure. Sean has that marvelous way about him.

Another drive to South of the Border? Sean wouldn't have it any other way.

Every time I think he's seen enough with his "old man" (yes, I get ribbed about my age all the time) he signs up for something else.

He could pass on weddings at this point if he wanted to. Nope -- sign him up.

He doesn't have to trudge down to North Carolina to hang out with family. Yet, he wants to do it. He loves doing it. He loves the road trip and whatever we do down there.

He's also a surprisingly traditional person and I hope that's a trait he carries with him forever.

It's true he doesn't go to many games with me anymore for one reason or another and it's sad but OK. I've dragged him to enough places that he generally knows where he likes to go (Brunswick) and where he doesn't like to go (Wonderland of Ice, Bridgeport).

He's taken in the world of minor league baseball from Fishkill to Aberdeen and college basketball from Newburgh to Long Island.

When I told him that Mahopac and John Jay are playing baseball this May at Dutchess Stadium, his enthusiasm was immediate. He and his two friends (Will and Chris) can join me as "color analysts."

We'll set broadcasting back to its very beginnings, I fear.

My boy has become a man. A good man.

The world is there for him to do whatever he wants.

For today, I'm sure there's a cake for him.

I won't see him and that saddens me, of course. But I'll see him again soon.

He graduates this June, so the emotions will just keep rolling.

To quote The (12th) Doctor -- the show we have bonded over: "Laugh hard. Run fast. Be kind."

Happy birthday, kid. I mean, dude. er. Bruh.

So many nicknames.

Sigh.

Happy birthday, Sean. Make wishes. Dream big. Then go get it.