A Father's Blessing - part one

(Author's note - What follows is the fruit of my writing while I was in Colorado last April. I wrote in what I believe was obedience to a clear directive from God. I believe I was supposed to perform this a monologue at my church on Father's Day. I won't be; not because of unwillingness. A pastoral decision came down that it won't fit into the plans for that Sunday morning. Whatever. You read it and be the judge. If you know anyone who has suffered a father wound, or know someone who has, encourage them to read it. Hopefully, you'll be challenged. I know I was during the creation of this piece!)

***Lights up. Chris begins walking across stage, whistling "Take Me Out to the Ball Game". He is on his way to his son’s baseball game, where he is the coach. He is dressed for the part - baseball cap, sweatshirt (or t-shirt) and sweatpants, sneakers. He is carrying a gym/equipment bag. Chris is early to mid 40’s, looking like a typical dad you’d see anywhere. As he crosses to stage center, he stops and looks at the audience. ***

You don’t mind if I cut through here, do you? I’m on my way to my son C.J.‘s Tee Ball game, and I’m running a little late. Seems like I’m always running a little late! But I’m really trying to set a good example for my son and his team. I love teaching the little guys how to hit and throw, My son CJ’s only six, but he’s the best player on the team. Yeah, he’s a real chip off the ol’ block.
See, baseball was everything when I was C.J.‘s age. My dream back then was to be a big league pitcher. I spent so many hours behind our house, throwing tennis balls up against the brick wall we had. I was Nolan Ryan, Tom Seaver, or Ron Guidry. (pantomimes a pitcher’s delivery) I threw twenty no-hitters a day! I’m amazed my arm didn’t fall off!
As I started playing on teams, my mom was at every game I ever played, cheering me on. She was my biggest fan. If I got a hit or made a great catch, you could always hear her above the crowd. And I think my mom invented the wave. Seriously! Like any kid, at first I thought she was embarrassing. But there was no stopping her. So I just smiled and let her do her thing.
My dad? My dad’s a different story. He didn’t come to my games. He was a quality control officer for an airplane manufacturer. He traveled a lot for his work. It wasn‘t strange for him to be gone three weeks out of the month. During one busy stretch in 1983, he was gone my entire summer vacation. Things weren’t much different when he was home. He may have been there physically, but emotionally? He was nowhere to be found.

Chris: (as 10 year old) Dad! Dad! I got three hits today! You should have seen it!

Dad: (face hidden behind newspaper, sounding less than interested): That’s nice.

Chris: Yeah, Dad! And I threw a kid out trying to steal second base. He must’ve been out by twenty feet!

Dad: (still uninterested): Son, why don’t you go outside and play. I’m busy now.

Chris: Ok, Dad. (starts to run away, but comes back): Oh, my next game’s on Tuesday after school. I’m pitching! Are you going to be there? Are ya?

Dad: (no hesitation to think about it) No, I’ll be out of town. Now go on outside. You’re bothering me.

Chris: Dad, do you think I’m a great baseball player? Do you think I could be a pro some day?

Dad: (oblivious to Chris’ question) Mary, get me another beer, would ya?

That’s how my dad was to me. Cold and distant. Over time, I stopped seeking affirmation from him. I desperately needed it. But he never gave it. Soon after, I pretty much stopped acknowledging him altogether. We lived in the same house, ate the same food. But it was like we were total strangers. I’d ignore him, he’d ignore me. One big happy family, right?
Fast forward to my senior year in high school. It was the league title game against Middlefield High. Bottom of the seventh, runners on second and third, two outs. We’re down by one run and I’m up to bat. I’d already gotten two hits in the game. All I needed was a single and we’d win. As I’m walking to the plate, I look over at the bleachers to where my mom usually sat and who do I see? It’s my dad! He’s here! He actually came! Just in time to see me in my moment of glory! I felt like I was back in Little League again. I wanted to jump and scream,

Chris: (Jumping up and down, waving arms) Dad! Dad! Look at me, Dad! I’m up to bat! I’m going to win the game for our team! Aren‘t you proud of me, Dad?

I’d never been so nervous! The bat was shaking in my hand. I worked the count full - 3 and 2. Then I must’ve fouled off ten pitches in a row. At that point, a hitter is just guessing what the pitcher is going to throw, and he prays he guesses right. I was looking dead red for a fastball, belt-high. He threw me some slow curve ball about a foot off the plate. I was so fired up for the fastball, I think I finished my swing before the ball even left his hand. Strike three. Game over.

And I’ll never forget my dad’s words to me as we left the ball field:

Dad: I can’t believe I missed work for that, Chris. And what was with the last swing? You looked like a girl out there!

I never played baseball again after that. I had scholarships to play ball in college. I turned them all down. I just didn’t have the heart anymore. I left home the next day, too. There was no big argument or speech. I didn’t defend myself to him, tell him he was wrong. I just moved out. That was it. He didn’t want me around. Well, he got his wish.
I wanted to get as far away as I could for school, so I worked it out with one of the schools that offered me a scholarship, USC, and applied to their business school and was accepted. Eventually, I got my MBA and started working for a big company in San Francisco. Within two years, I was named an assistant Vice-President. I was labeled the new hot shot. I could close deals that guys with twenty years experience couldn’t finish I was the subject of cover stories in big time magazines. I had my Mercedes in my private parking spot, the corner office, and a staff of 45 all by the time I was 30. If you could see under the surface, you’d see a man who hated himself. Because I could see very clearly that I was becoming the one thing I dreaded the most...my father. I saw him in my little mannerisms: the way I’d hold a pen or rub my nose under my glasses. Deeper? I found myself wounding people at work the same way I had been wounded -

Chris: (Takes sip of coffee, swallows hard, then screams) Karen! What’s this? This coffee is garbage! For the hundredth time, I take my coffee with three sugars and one creamer. Come on! Can’t you do anything right? I mean, it’s a simple cup of coffee! (Pause) Yes, you should be sorry. Now make it right and don’t let it happen again!

The senior VP’s all loved me. They called me driven, a fiery perfectionist. I called it hell. I wanted to be encouraging, kind. But I couldn’t find those emotions in me. It’s like I wasn’t programmed with all the right parts. I would go home at night and sit in silence, trying to figure out how I got here. I would pretend my dad was in the room. Some nights, I’d scream bloody murder -

Chris: (yelling at his father) You know, I hate you! There! I said it. You’ve punished me for all these years and here it is. Thank you so very much for screwing up my life! Look at me! I ‘m a monster! People are scared of me! I have no friends! I can’t keep a girlfriend around because I can’t stop being what you turned me into! I’m thirty, I’m going out of my mind, and it’s all your fault! I wish you were dead! I hate you! I HATE YOU!!!!

Other nights it was more -

Chris: (crying) Why, daddy? Why did you leave me? Why did you do this to me? Why didn’t you say you love me? I want you to hold me! Daddy, I need you! I don’t want you to go away anymore. Be with me, Dad. I love you. I love you.

Part two next week. Walk with God.