Howdy Folks. Hope all is well with all of you. Holidays, in-laws, extended family, snow for some of us, sleet and freezing rain for others… it’s just a brilliant time of year. My wife and subsist on Eggnog loaded with brandy and Vodka tonics as far as the eye can see. My 3 and 5 year old daughters like water with lemon so they can sit on the floor, watch “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas” for the 94th time and look exasperated just like Mum and Dad. It’s family bonding time

My 3 year old actually said when I stated I was going out to shovel: “Where the hell do you think you’re going? The movie is not over – so that means your time on the floor with us is not over.” So, after getting permission from her to load up the Vodka, I sat back down, drowning myself in Whoville.

As I sat there I thought about me. I know selfish right? Being a dad, a husband, a brother and a son takes a toll. I have two sisters, mother, a wife and two daughters. I don’t think I have to tell you just how much estrogen fogs my vision, controls my life and creates issues out of statements. No offense ladies, but we men do believe in simplicity while most women believe in complexity. If something is easy there’s a reason for that… and women are hell bent to find that reason. Find out where the difficulty lies and exploit it, talk it to death, go over it… while men would just as soon relish the ease, wallow in all that is complete, void of questions.

Okay, I am tangent ridden here – sorry about that.

So I was thinking about myself; thinking about my days a soccer star in college and high school. I use “star” loosely, but this is my blog and my memories and in both, I am the Crispin Glover of the Indy Movie set.

As a man I have a “hero” complex. Most men do from conversation I have had with mates. Being the guy to do a tracheotomy with a pen in restaurant; being the guy who disarms the bank robber; the one who just happens to be at the right place at the right time and catches the baby being thrown out of the window to escape a fire. Try as I might, it’s hard to be second all the time. It’s hard knowing you’re a hero to your wife and kids, but never hearing it. I know my daughters think I’m the strongest man ever. I know my wife thinks… I better not finish this, because I have no idea what my wife thinks. I thought I knew that she loved the color blue. That turned out to be wrong. I thought she loved when I kissed her ear – that came crashing down in a “Ya know that thing you do – yeah, I hate that” conversation. Fun stuff.

There are certain movies that evoke this emotion the – I wanna be a hero, a tough guy with a heart of gold, a protector. Not so much hero, but men I would like to be or rather find themselves in a situation, a moment where I would like the opportunity to be. The beginning fight scene on the “island” in No Escape with Ray Liotta is one. The end of The Professional with Jean Reno is another. I want to be THAT guy.

It’s the same way with sports. Imagine being Joe Carter – game winning homerun to win the 1993 World Series. Michael Jordan, 1998 – over or rather around Bryon Russell – hand extended in a shooters finish to win the NBA Championship. Tiger Woods – Augusta 2005 16th hole.

I want to be that guy.

I would never trade the spot from where I write this. I do not bemoan my lot in life. I do however occasionally daydream. My kids are wonderful, never fight, will some day grace the covers of both Vogue and Time. So will yours. My wife is beautiful and smart and a Tomcat in the sack. So is yours. Daydreaming – see what I mean?

Who do you want to be if only for a moment; to be in that situation, do what they did?

On the ice in Lake Placid, 1980?

Aussie Annette Kellerman, 1907 attracting National attention as the first underwater ballerina in the New York Hippodrome?

Perhaps Dave Chen, member of the 2007 Chinese Softball League of Chicago Champion, Goodfellas and League MVP.

I’m out like Isiah, I mean Marbury, I mean Jalen...