I almost drove down to Crowley to see my grandson Major this morning, but I remembered that he is in school, but then I thought, He’s not really IN school, cause he’s home schooled, but then I decided that maybe home school really does count, and that I shouldn’t go barging in even during home school, cause his mom might take offence and make me take a test or something, and then I’d just end up embarrassing myself not being able to pass a K-garden test and all, so I just went golfing instead. 

The reason I was thinking so hard about heading to Crowley to see Major is because I went to Amber’s blog page this morning and saw a picture she had posted. The picture was of Major and the caption says, “Majors first black eye.” and all of a sudden when I saw the picture I got the warm and fuzzies, and considered it a confirmation that he really is my grandson and not just some kid they found under a rock beside the road five years ago and decided to tell me he was my descendant. 

Now I know about now you’re thinking, “What in the world is Grump talking about?” so allow me to explain. Major loves sports, all sports, if you take him to a restaurant where he can see a TV, and there is a game on, you can forget about visiting with him, because he is too busy shoveling in food and watching the game to visit. Here’s another thing, unlike me, but like his dad, he is good at sports. I think he likes baseball best of all, with basketball coming in second, but golf runs pretty high on his fav list too. Anyway, Major got this black eye playing baseball with a friend. Seems he was standing a little too close when the friend started swinging the bat. The good news is that it was a plastic bat, but the impact was solid enough to leave its calling card. 

Below is a copy and paste from Amber’s blog. 

Last night after he’d had some time to think about it, Major decided that he was at least a little bit glad that he was going to have a black eye. “After all,” he said, “I am a tough guy. Tough guys get black eyes sometimes because they are busy doing boy stuff. I can’t just tiptoe around the tulips.” 

Yup, that’s my man! If you’re going to play sports you gotta be tough. His dad knows that first hand…because I was his coach. Let me tell you a couple of stories about my idea of being tough. Now keep in mind I’m not the one claiming to be tough, I’m saying this is my idea of being tough. 

When Josh was nine or ten, Chip Bennett and I coached our boys in a little dribbler’s basketball league. Now Chip is on the wall of fame at ACU for his football skill. He was even drafted by Cincinnati. I think they may be a minor league team or something. Anyway we were pretty tough on the boys. I remember one game we played right after Beau, Chip’s son got his braces put on. Somehow during play Beau had been hit in the chops and one of the wires from the braces impaled him. That wire was sticking  completely through his upper lip. Time was called and he came to the bench with tears in his eyes holding his mouth. When Chip saw what had happened he pulled Beau’s lip free from the wire, bent the wire back in place and then told him to get tough or die. Beau did not come out of the game. 

On another occasion, Beau came by the bench on his way to the other end of the court, and said, “Kent, I think Josh is sick, he might need to come out of the game.” Well that sounded a little week to me so I told him to suck it up, and be a man. The next trip down the floor Josh made it to mid court, and hurled his vanilla milkshake all over the jump circle. Obviously time was called so the mess could be cleaned up, but when the job was done Josh stayed in the game. It takes a lot more than an upset gut to sit my boy on the bench.  So you can see why I love Major’s attitude about being a tough guy. He even told me a while back that the last time he got a shot he had just decided on his own that tough guys didn’t cry when they got a shot, so he didn’t cry when that nurse stuck him. 

I’m glad to know my man Major is a tough guy. He has a good roll model to look at. Josh got himself off of the football field with a messed up knee. And ole Beau…well I saw him get up off the field, look down at his arm, and then take hold of it with his other hand and head to the side line. On his way over to the coach he said “Coach I think I broke my arm.” That was one of those Sherlock moments, if you know what I mean. It was clear to see from the bleachers that his arm was broken, but Beau handled it like a tough guy. Course ole Chip was in the stands yelling, “I’ve had worse’n that on my eyeball!” 

So Major here’s to, you stink’n buffalo breath, I love you for being a tough guy. 

Till next time,

Grump