Dilettante

Back with a new post for the first time in three months.  I regret the interruption and hope that what few readers actually pause here to inspect my muse understand why I've been where I've been.

One day I was certain I was on course to stick with my interest in grappling through the welcoming community at Foster Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and finally progress in this esoteric sport that I find both captivating and maddening as a practitioner.  The next day, I found myself foreclosed from class attendance, an essential ingredient in the recipe for success in the pursuit of grappling skill and promotion in the discipline of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.  My problem was, I was perfectly content in knowing I couldn't make classes this spring, being the father of a talented 13 year old baseball player working hard to pursue his own dreams of sporting achievement.  I didn't care that I couldn't play anymore.

Although I didn't mind sacrificing my practice to be my son's taxi service and personal athletic butler, I needed and found solace, as I always have, in a renewed effort in the gym, attending to my own physical fitness, alone.  I also looked after my son's fitness as the season wore on, and his new-found adolescent physicality wonderfully lifted his baseball performance this year, both at the plate and on the mound.  In a single week in June, he both hit a homerun and pitched a shutout, the latter against one of the strongest hitting teams in his very competitive select league.

And then on Father's Day, he hurt his pitching arm in bracket play at a travel tournament in another part of our state, his team crumbled behind him, and we slunk back to Seattle wondering what had just happened to his baseball dream.  The event of his injury forced me to consider, misty-eyed, his utter dedication to baseball, his dual crafts pitching and hitting, and compare his commitment to mine.  In that consideration, I came to realize that I was a mere physical dilettante; having tried so many activities in a lifetime indulgence in physical culture and having been only sorta good at each but master of none.  Including Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.  Especially Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.

So what the fuck am I really good at now?  I'll tell you what.  I may be a red-assed, jewish-atheist, city-lovin' goof draped in a superhero cape disguised as a physical culturist.  But I am also a fucking great father.  I know what I like and what I like doing, and I know what my midlife physical limitations will prevent me form ever doing again.  And knowing that stuff, I am happy to commit, fully, to being myself.  A dad.

With that, I plan to discontinue the 50-year old white belt blog in favor of a more full journal of my life as a dad.  Cliche blog maybe, but I don't do this for anyone but me.  No more linkies to blogs I like. Or fuck-all blog ads that don't pay shit unless the writer loads his grist with search words and such.  Just me, my family, and our modern life.

If you came here for the fighting, thanks.  I hope you'll stay.  If you don't, good travels and fare well.  Thanks for having read this crap.