Old Wahoo vs. Old Man Winter

Winter arrived today, and Old Wahoo is ready for Old Man Winter. Lately, I've taken a passive-aggressive approach to the old, cold dude, but this year I vow to bring back my old short-wearing, fist-shaking, ice-defying ways. I can't stand winter, from hockey to WWJ's Winter Survival Team to the two worst words in the English language: wind chill. 

This year I will prevail. Some may say it is folly to challenge nature, but I have a unique combination of stubborness and stupidity to take Old Man Winter down. 

Not Ready for Cool School

Old Wahoo took the Moose to Car City Records the other day to try to sell some old CDs.

That was a mistake, because Old Wahoo's ego took a hit as he did not quite fit the cool quotient.

Car City Records looks like a record store should - dusty and musty with tons of CDs and vinyl records stashed in cardboard boxes. Nothing fancy, but plenty of street cred.

Old Wahoo, of course, lacks street cred, and there's nothing more loser-like than rolling up to the record store in our Town and Country van. I waltz in with the 2-year-old in one hand and a stack of CDs in an old soup box in the other. I look around and see and hear nothing. Not even crickets.

Finally, I spy the clerk - a late 20s guy with a receding mullet and pale skin except for the black circles under his eyes - sitting in the corner, trying either to ignore or hide from me. His attitude doesn't dissuade me, though. I walk over and ask him if they buy used CDs.

"Yes, but the young country on the top isn't a good sign," he said with as little emotion as possible.

I tried to shrug off the rebuke.

"You mean you don't want to buy my Taylor Swift CDs?" 

I laugh.

No reaction.

After a moment, he speaks again. "It's just not our audience," he said flatly.

I recognize the obvious. I don't fit in there. Never have, never will.

That's fine, I guess, though deep down I wish I was hip, that I was cool, that this guy wanted to buy my sweet "Storm Front" disc by Billy Joel.

I always think my kids still think I'm cool, and I guess I hope they think I always am.

But there will be a day, if it's not already here, when they think I am anything but cool.

That's OK. 'Cause I'm not.

And it didn't need a trip to Car City Classics to figure that out.

An APBA Replay

Old Wahoo fondly remembers the summer of 1981. At age 8, I had just finished my second season of T-Ball, playing second base for the Reds, who won a dramatic playoff for second place (clearly my Little League highlight). 

I lived for baseball. I watched every game I could - loved the Game of the Week on NBC with Joe Garagiola and Tony Kubek. I was a baseball geek.

Of course, there was one major problem in 1981. A players' strike wiped out the middle part of the season, robbing six weeks of baseball from fans and causing the Cincinnati Reds to miss the playoffs despite having the best record in the National League.

But Old Wahoo's dad saved baseball that summer, at least for me, by ordering APBA Baseball, a dice board game that allowed fans to play their own ballgames and seasons with "real players" based on actual statistics. 

So during the strike, my dad and I replayed the 1980 season. My dad had played APBA as a kid, and now he was passing the fun on to me. 

Dad made up a schedule and pitching matchups for all the games, and then we dove in. Dad quickly taught me the rules - how the big, red die was the tens number, and the white die was the one - and how to use the various charts for each situation (i.e., bases empty, runner on first, etc.)

I wanted to play all the time, and soon I was playing games while Dad was at work, faithfully keeping score so we could keep season stats. 

(But Old Wahoo did skew the stats a bit. Chagrined to find out that Reggie Jackson actually struck out - a lot - I would sometimes give ol' Reggie a couple extra rolls until he came up with a roll of 66 - a home run - or at least hit a double. My dad, of course, was up to my tricks, and he would shake his head disapprovingly when I told him that Reggie had another two-homer game against the Orioles.)

We were true geeks, and I'm sure my mother and younger brother thought we were nuts. But it got us through the strike, and for baseball nuts, that was great.

Recently, the New York Times had an article about the annual APBA baseball tournament, and it took me back to the games with my dad. (The Times' baseball blog, Bats, also had a post about a 1956 APBA replay.)

With the fantasy sports boom, with all the technological challenges, it's hard to believe that the board game is still around at all. APBA has a computer game - my dad bought it, of course - but the traditional tabletop format remains its trademark.

Thanks to APBA, my dad and I bonded. My brother and I played catch with Dad after his work, and when it got dark, we played APBA.

It was the best.

Struggling to Stay Fit

Old Wahoo read a post today on the Washington Post's On Parenting Blog about staying active with your young kids. I thought it was a great idea to run together with other dads and their kids, but more importantly, the dads have found a routine that works and have stuck to it.

To me, that's crucial. I've started to run finally, and I like it, but if I don't stick to a routine, I get lazy. Why? Because I am lazy, and because objects at rest stay at rest. Conversely, objects in motion, stay in motion. 

Unfortunately, I'm good at coming up with excuses for staying at rest. I've got to watch the kids. I have too much work to do. I need to go to the grocery store. And the No. 1 weakest reason: I'm tired.

Fortunately, my wife bought me an iPod for my birthday, and she helped convince me to run in a 5K, which I did a couple of weeks ago in Alden, up on Torch Lake in northern Michigan. I was extremely slow, but I finished the race, which was the goal.

One problem: I've only run once since then. I need another race. I need to stay on track and keep rolling.

I'm interested to know how other moms and dads (and everyone else) find time to exercise. Let me know in the comments below or e-mail me at john.hetzler@gmail.com.

Now it's time to go running.

EDITED to fix e-mail address.

Putt-Putt for the @#!&*! Fun of It

As a kid, Old Wahoo loved miniature golf. I used to go to the putt-putt in Cradock with my brother and my grandparents, and I always wanted to play more.

So as a father, taking the three boys to play putt-putt should be natural. I should love it. I should enjoy the time spent together.

But after playing 36 holes of miniature golf for the not-so-small sum of $48.50, I hope I never see another putt-putt course. It was an excruciating experience in which the kids shut off their ears, ignored me at every opportunity and clowned around the area. Which, I know, is basically what kids do when they play putt-putt. I'm sure I did the same thing.

Still, I can't help wishing that the boys would follow some simple putt-putt etiquette. Such as listening. Or waiting until the ball has stopped before taking another shot. Or actually aiming before putting. Or holding the putter correctly. Or waiting for their partners to finish before going on to the next hole. 

After all, if they become good enough, they always could try the pro tour.

Moose on the Loose

Old Wahoo may be losing his workout partner because the Moose is ready to run away.

For about the past month or so, I've taken Matt on my morning runs, pushing him along in our giant stroller. He was really content in there for a time, but this week he started getting restless, possibly because I was running too slowly, or more likely, he just got bored of my out-of-shape, non-workout warrior routine. He started to stand up while I ran, untangling himself from his belt, and making it a not-so-safe situation, even though he thought it was hilarious.

Anyway, I thought about using duct tape to keep him down, but I figured the Moose is slipperier than any eel and would squirm away. At least he still does pushups and situps with me. Maybe I can get him to spot me with my lifting now.

The New Fatherhood

USA Today ran an interesting story on the changing nature of fatherhood. I thought much of the story was spot on, though I thinks it's always been "cool ... to be an active, involved father." I think more and more dads are tackling what were formerly "maternal" duties (i.e. changing diapers, carpooling, etc.) and that maybe never should have had gender tags on them. With women working more and more, and with the economic downturn, it's a trend that likely will continue and even accelerate.

For me, it's not always easy. Recently, Laura said that helping out with other people's children by baby-sitting, play dates, etc. was "the currency of mothers," which was meant as encouragement to me. I know it should not have, but it made me feel uneasy and somehow lacking, like it was an assault on my manhood instead of a suggestion to help me navigate fatherhood. For me, my ego still gets in the way.

What do you think? Has fatherhood changed? What are some of the challenges? How can I avoid letting my ego get in the way? Am I too touchy-feely?

SIDE NOTE: The USA Today article mentions DadLabs.com. I checked it out, and it's pretty cool.