Ode to a Brother
The Birchman said...
When Danny and I were kids I used to make him suffer something fierce. I'd force him to wrestle me: "You and the dog versus me." "Okay, Derek...." I was 6 grades older, and I'd body slam him into a pile of pillows until he gave up. He finally realized our 20lb. mutt just barked and ran in a circle, but it didn't stop him; for the life of me, I can't remember him telling me no.
When he was really young, I remember teaching him square numbers. He was in Kindergarten, at MOST, and I made him memorize 1-10 squared. "Hey Danny! What's 5 squared?" "Twenty-Fiiiiive!" I don't know if I ever told him how proud I was. Once, a few years later, I taught him about liquid volumes. I heard in school (probably from a math teacher) that many people- especially children- have trouble discerning volume-differences when one container is very tall and thin (but of low volume), and another is very very wide, yet short (and of much greater volume). As a 7th grader I explained the concept once, and he understood. Unlike the square numbers talent, we couldn't show this off, but I was even more proud.
As a kindergartener, he dominated his AYSO soccer league. They played on those stupid-short fields with the nets that looked like tall hockey goals. Saying "Danny Dominated" is a gross understatement; the kid imposed his long-blond-haired will upon the entire league. I went to almost every game, and watched with a mixture of pride and envy when a pack of children trailed after my brother, as he scored goal after goal after goal. Stopping at 3 is also an understatement: DanMan routinely scored all 6 of his team's goals. I was out of my element and pretending playing for a local Flint squad, for heaven's sake. I was the older brother....
In our family, baseball was easily the sport of choice. The OldMan was baseball player. I was a decent baseball player. DanMan... he was a baseball player, GodDamnit. I saw him make plays as a 2nd or 3rd grader that I could not have made in my prime as a highschooler. I remember sitting on the metal bleachers at a local Overland Park little league field, making polite conversation with someone's father, watching the kid play third base. Somebody hit a sharp groudball to his left: he layed out, gloved the ball clean, and threw the runner out at first- with 60ft. bases mind you- from his knees with a step to spare. He stood up, dusted himself off, kicked at the dirt in front of him, and held his pinky and index fingers up, turning his head to make sure everyone saw: "Two down."
Even before then, I recall my travel baseball team coming to my house when he was a kindergartener, making him demonstrate his absurdly precocious skills for hours on end. 11 year olds watching in awe as a 6 year old hit a wiffle ball or played catch with the aplomb of a little man that didn't know better....
The little fucker started-and kicked serious ass- on a JV basketball team at a school of 2100+ as a FRESHMAN. He played in the state playoffs on one of the best varsity teams in recent school history as a SOPHOMORE. He started most games on a great GB basketball team as a JUNIOR. His junior year, he took more charges and drew more offensive fouls than anybody in the conference; he singlehandedly changed the momentum in critical spots in more games than I can count. I don't think I ever told him how proud I was, seeing him flop on his tall ass after drawing a ref's attention just moments earlier, clapping his hands and pumping his fists after working SO hard and SO intelligently for a much-needed and uber-underappreciated turnover.
We're a baseball family, though, so my proudest moment was when the DanMan started the first game of the varsity baseball season at second base as a sophomore. Parents bitched.
He led the team in hitting.
I just wish I could let the kid know how proud I am of him....
Hey
I just got back from Notre Dame for the Michigan game (if you can even call it that). I'm pissed though...I got a picture under Touchdown Jesus, but it was such bad quality you'd think it was Field Goal Noah...Or the less liked Pass Interference Mohammed
But anyways...Those Tigs aren't going away just yet. Cutting it too damn close though...
Little brother speaks. You know, there's not much about my life I'm proud of, but neglecting my younger brother must be one of the best decisions I've ever made. I've been a pretty awful example for DanMan, but if my absurd farce of "OlderBrotherhood" even SOMEHOW contributed to:
1) Intense UofM fanhood
2) Creative religious humor
3) Intense Detroit Tiger fanhood
4) The grammatical knowledge that led to his capitalization of "Field Goal Noah" and "Pass Interference Mohammed"
...well... I suppose I can consider my life a success, so far.
When Danny and I were kids I used to make him suffer something fierce. I'd force him to wrestle me: "You and the dog versus me." "Okay, Derek...." I was 6 grades older, and I'd body slam him into a pile of pillows until he gave up. He finally realized our 20lb. mutt just barked and ran in a circle, but it didn't stop him; for the life of me, I can't remember him telling me no.
When he was really young, I remember teaching him square numbers. He was in Kindergarten, at MOST, and I made him memorize 1-10 squared. "Hey Danny! What's 5 squared?" "Twenty-Fiiiiive!" I don't know if I ever told him how proud I was. Once, a few years later, I taught him about liquid volumes. I heard in school (probably from a math teacher) that many people- especially children- have trouble discerning volume-differences when one container is very tall and thin (but of low volume), and another is very very wide, yet short (and of much greater volume). As a 7th grader I explained the concept once, and he understood. Unlike the square numbers talent, we couldn't show this off, but I was even more proud.
As a kindergartener, he dominated his AYSO soccer league. They played on those stupid-short fields with the nets that looked like tall hockey goals. Saying "Danny Dominated" is a gross understatement; the kid imposed his long-blond-haired will upon the entire league. I went to almost every game, and watched with a mixture of pride and envy when a pack of children trailed after my brother, as he scored goal after goal after goal. Stopping at 3 is also an understatement: DanMan routinely scored all 6 of his team's goals. I was out of my element and pretending playing for a local Flint squad, for heaven's sake. I was the older brother....
In our family, baseball was easily the sport of choice. The OldMan was baseball player. I was a decent baseball player. DanMan... he was a baseball player, GodDamnit. I saw him make plays as a 2nd or 3rd grader that I could not have made in my prime as a highschooler. I remember sitting on the metal bleachers at a local Overland Park little league field, making polite conversation with someone's father, watching the kid play third base. Somebody hit a sharp groudball to his left: he layed out, gloved the ball clean, and threw the runner out at first- with 60ft. bases mind you- from his knees with a step to spare. He stood up, dusted himself off, kicked at the dirt in front of him, and held his pinky and index fingers up, turning his head to make sure everyone saw: "Two down."
Even before then, I recall my travel baseball team coming to my house when he was a kindergartener, making him demonstrate his absurdly precocious skills for hours on end. 11 year olds watching in awe as a 6 year old hit a wiffle ball or played catch with the aplomb of a little man that didn't know better....
The little fucker started-and kicked serious ass- on a JV basketball team at a school of 2100+ as a FRESHMAN. He played in the state playoffs on one of the best varsity teams in recent school history as a SOPHOMORE. He started most games on a great GB basketball team as a JUNIOR. His junior year, he took more charges and drew more offensive fouls than anybody in the conference; he singlehandedly changed the momentum in critical spots in more games than I can count. I don't think I ever told him how proud I was, seeing him flop on his tall ass after drawing a ref's attention just moments earlier, clapping his hands and pumping his fists after working SO hard and SO intelligently for a much-needed and uber-underappreciated turnover.
We're a baseball family, though, so my proudest moment was when the DanMan started the first game of the varsity baseball season at second base as a sophomore. Parents bitched.
He led the team in hitting.
I just wish I could let the kid know how proud I am of him....
posted by Derek at 10:51 PM
1 Comments:
I hate my younger brother. He's a little homo. Most of my posts about how much I hate teenagers and people on Myspace are based on him and his douchey friends. I hope he runs the Mercedes our parents bought him off a bridge. Yours seems cool, though.
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