Riding Home with Dad

[johnyandell]

Let's get your thoughts on Barry Buss' latest "Riding Home with Dad"

[barrybuss]

What "That" was

Greetings,

When I started looking in to the circumstances around why so many peers of mine chose not to put their own children in to the same junior tennis experience we all grew up with, the one answer that ran through all of their explanations is "I would never put my kid through that"...

Much of what I wrote about was trying to discover what the "that" was they were referring to. Further discussions led to the the most common referred to experience we all shared, that being those long drives home. The things that would get said, or not said, on those long treks home were experiences many of myself and my peers never forgot, and sadly they were not just isolated incidents from our youths. They were every tournament that didn't end with a winners trophy coming home with us.

The point of this piece is not to condemn those who were emotionally in over their heads re their children's tennis. Tennis is hard, parenting is harder, tennis parenting is very complex. What I hoped to do here was shed light on a not very healthy aspect of our sport that happens far more than anyone cares to discuss that in my opinion, could and should be handled better by all parties involved.

Instead we have an entire generation of great tennis players and athletic gene pools sitting on the sidelines, no longer involved in the sport. Yo could fill a small library with all the knowledge and wisdom sitting idly dormant in homes the world round. It shouldn't have to be that way. If anyone should know better how to raise a talented teen, one would hope it would be a parent who had played themselves. There just has to be a more temperate response than the one adopted by my generation. Hopefully my work will start a discussion about how to handle those difficult drives home just a little healthier

[klacr]

I've experienced those drives. They lasted an eternity. When it was a good victory the drives never seemed long enough. When it was a tough loss, or my willingness to come to net that was both relentless and reckless made me look like a Kamikaze rather than a modern day player failed, those drives were tortuous.

I've been there and many others have before. Many before me and sadly many long after me.

The question arises concerning those parents who used to be the "long drive home" juniors and raising tennis kids. Do these parents learn from the abuse of their past and treat their kids better, or do they simply follow the same path because that's all they know and how they were raised?

Yes, we have a new generation, but what memories does that generation hold from its childhood. As competition gets tougher, tournament entries become more expensive along with cost of travel and equipment, more pressure is put upon kids to excel. To beat their friends, their neighbors, their rivals. That's the world we live in. Is it right? Is it wrong? Or is it just how society has evolved, or devolved for that matter?

Nice work Barry.


Kyle LaCroix USPTA
Boca Raton

[GeoffWilliams]

There is nothing like the pain of losing after you worked so hard on improving. The only way to feel better about it is to decide to. Sampras lost 19 times in a row after switching to a one hander. He knew it was just part of the process and was not hurt by it. That was a decision handed to him by his mentor, the child molester Fischer.

[sdinulescu]

As a son and a father I am dissapointed in Tennisplayer for publishing this. You are calling "I'd like to pop you in your fcking mouth" (dad) a graceful literary style?
As a physician I believe Mr Buss needs professional help, and should not use this publication- and its readers- instead of a counseling group session

[jeffreycounts]

As a son and a father I am dissapointed in Tennisplayer for publishing this. You are calling "I'd like to pop you in your fcking mouth" (dad) a graceful literary style?
As a physician I believe Mr Buss needs professional help, and should not use this publication- and its readers- instead of a counseling group session

I actually found the last few paragraphs, with its stream of consciousness style, to be a brilliant way to convey what a young, tormented kid must have felt on those awful rides home. Barry writes that he was too young to understand why this was happening - why the one guy in his life who was supposed to protect him, and love him, and support him, was instead treating him with cruelty and condescension. It's a heartbreaking story. It's also a courageous story. I can't imagine how difficult this was for Barry to write.

Surely as a physician you understand that abusive parents can literally break their children. And that one of the finest, and most elegant ways to deal with abuse and terrible experiences as an adult is through words. We celebrate writers who have the courage and the gift to put these feelings and experiences into words. And we also learn from them. Instead of banning Barry to the censorship bin, how about we use his writing to reflect on our own experiences as sons, as Dads, and as kids going through the junior tennis experience. And that maybe, just maybe, if we treat our own kids with respect, and love, and protection, they will grow up without the torment, and the burden and the rage that Barry was left with.

John can tackle the issue of publishing Barry, but as a member I personally have found this series to be absolutely riveting and heartbreaking. In fact, I just ordered his book because I'm getting impatient reading it piece meal.

[klacr]

As a son and a father I am dissapointed in Tennisplayer for publishing this. You are calling "I'd like to pop you in your fcking mouth" (dad) a graceful literary style?
As a physician I believe Mr Buss needs professional help, and should not use this publication- and its readers- instead of a counseling group session

Very honest and welcomed post. Thank you sdinulescu. A few points...

1) It is the decision of Mr. John Yandell to publish this excerpt from Barry Buss' book. John would only publish this if he thought it was interesting and meaningful to his subscribers and in the best interest of his website. Speaking with several forum participants, they all seemed to enjoy it.

2.) I was unaware that tennisplayer.net required Pulitzer Prize winning authors to submit work on here. A graceful literary style is not what Mr. Buss is going for nor should he. He's talking about the unhealthy aspect of the sport of tennis involving parents and their children, specifically his experience. He does not state that every tennis parent is abusive so please don't take offense. He's dealing with tough memories and raw emotion and sometimes colorful vocabulary gets used. It does not make it right or wrong, but it does make it genuine and I appreciate the author for that.

3.) Good writing has a tendency to stir emotion, create inspiration and elicit a response. This particular piece, although what you may not deem "a graceful literary style", certainly seemed to draw out the three qualities I listed above from you.

4.) I'm sorry you are dissappointed in the article. The great thing is that it is your choice, based on experience, to never read this article or any other article by Mr. Buss again. There are numerous gems within this website and I encourage you to find one that peaks your interest in a positive way.

5.) Your medical recommendations are appreciated. Perhaps Mr. Buss is several steps ahead of you and has seeked professional help. He also was willing and courageous enough to share his experiences with the tennisplayer.net audience. I'm sure writing this book was a cathartic experience for him and maybe even for those that are reading it. Although I'm not a doctor, I do play one on the internet . My medical experience and knowledge is telling me the author was sharing a poignant moment in his life with us. As uncomfortable as some parts may have been for you to read, I can assure you that it was not meant to offend, it was just meant to be honest.

6.) I'm not writing this post to be disrespectful to sdinulescu (I'm sure he's a great guy and a tennis lover like the rest of us) or to start trolling on message boards. That's not who I am or what I'm about. I'm just an ordinary guy that tries to stay positive, help others and try my best to avoid negative criticism on people, players or authors. If I cannot find appropriate words to express my disagreement then I usually leave it alone. I come on tennisplayer.net for educational purposes and to have fun. This is my escape. I love this site and all the contributions from everyone. We all have our opinions, I just wish we could keep them positive or try to express our outrage in a more civil manner. I certainly am a fan of free speech and applaud anyone willing to share their thoughts on tennis. Thank you.

Kyle LaCroix USPTA
Boca Raton

[bottle]

I'm sure, as klacr suggests, that sdinulescu is a great guy. The monikers in the previous sentence indicate that both guys are very cool. (Read the word "sdinulescu" out loud. Hear how it rolls off the tongue.)

Also sdinulescu is a physician and physicians save lives-- even those of people like me who are less reactionary than they.

If I had ever reacted to the politics of a typical physician while in his office I probably would be dead.

And I do think that reacting to potty-mouth language the way sdinulescu did is politics. Unless he is Emily Post in drag.

A literary argument could be made, of course, that a writer as effective as Barry Buss need never go scatological or that just a little obscenity goes a long way out of all proportion and you only have to do it once or twice.

On the other hand, Buss got published, and I'm sure a little potty-mouth helped in this quest.

Let me tell you from personal experience: Getting published when you are not famous and you have just written a tennis book or tennis book query even if it is very good is no small feat.

[johnyandell]

sd, et al,

Tough stuff no doubt but real. Barry has heard from multiple contemporaries who don't wish public identification who had illustrious junior and pro careers who have said this piece resonated with their experience more than anything else in his book. Tellingly, many of them have avoided exposing their own children to tennis.

I think we need to look at the toxicity that the sport can create if the parents do not understand the forces working on the child, the worst of which are often of the parents' own creation.

If Barry chooses to respond I will let him note (or not) the steps he has taken over the years that have gotten him to the point he has reached in his life and the meaning of this writing in all that.

[klacr]

sd, et al,

Tough stuff no doubt but real. Barry has heard from multiple contemporaries who don't wish public identification who had illustrious junior and pro careers who have said this piece resonated with their experience more than anything else in his book. Tellingly, many of them have avoided exposing their own children to tennis.

I think we need to look at the toxicity that the sport can create if the parents do not understand the forces working on the child, the worst of which are often of the parents' own creation.

If Barry chooses to respond I will let him note (or not) the steps he has taken over the years that have gotten him to the point he has reached in his life and the meaning of this writing in all that.

Thanks John.

As I said in Post #3, it's important to learn from these experiences and gain an understanding of how it happens and what we can do to prevent it. The biggest tragedy in all this is that when these incidents happen, tennis loses a fan and a potentially great player. I'm sure it's already happened enough times to kids that had the talent but lost the desire due to the abuse.

Kyle LaCroix USPTA
Boca Raton

[stotty]

My throughts...

There are weaknesses in these articles, in terms of perspective.

We never actually get a true sense of what the father is really like. Barry has so far given very little indication of his father's character, personality. We get very little idea what his father actually "yelled", said or did that was so abusive. We get mostly Barry's mental reactions and thoughts. Too much effect and not enough cause...or details of the cause.

The mother, so far, has featured very little in the articles...assuming there are more to come...maybe she will later.

Barry seems to have turned out all right, so one parent must have been doing something right....perhaps the mother. When both parents are extreme or dysfunctional, children rarely turn out all right...in fact they never do.

In Marlon Brando's book Songs my Mother Taught Me we get an excellent perspective of Brando's father in terms of his abusive nature and character, and how in the end Brando towered above his father in every way imaginable. The problem with dominant fathers is they leave themselves poorly prepared should their children eclipse them...having spent so many years in the dominant role.

Barry's situation may be similar to Brando's but it's so hard to tell because we aren't actually getting that much insight in to Barry's father as a man....or Barry's mother.

Sorry if you are reading, Barry. If you write articles like these you must expect some turbulence. I feel your story is very valid and certainly warrants being on Tenniplayer. And I believe what you say. I would just like more perspective on your parents as people.

I disagree with the physician who posted. This was his first post in three years as a member...what a way to start! Despite my criticism the articles have been clearly well received and as such their appearance on Tennisplayer is thoroughly justified.

I would, however, agree with the physician about using the "f" word. There are far more powerful ways to get the same message across. I never swear, never have...it's just my thing.

[barrybuss]

Thanks for the great responses..

Well done all. Maybe I should have a mole come in to every debate and call me some form of bad name to fire up the discussion some. To the physician, no offense taken. Obviously my writing hit a sensitive nerve with you and I apologize for that. But the reality of the world we live in is not every family is The Walton's and there are no style points when confronting abuse in all its various manifestations...as a helpless young kid stuck in a car on a long drive home or even as a middle aged adult trying to communicate an experience in words in the hopes of a better understanding of some complex issues.

A special thanks to John and Tennisplayer and all of you who have shared your insights and thoughts about some pretty tough issues (stick around, there's a little happy coming next month). For those who have not been in the trenches with the sport from your earliest memories, tennis can be portrayed as one big red carpet event where everyone is happy and healthy and loves kids and puppies and can't wait to show you what's in their bag. The harsh reality for so many of us is there is a dark undercurrent running through the junior development process that my work has taken from the dark and in to the light. The goal here is not to indict tennis culture or tennis parents or my parents for that matter; tennis is hard, parenting is hard, tennis parenting is pretty tough...the goal is to learn from our mistakes and to provide a healthier environment for the next generation of kids to come.

Re a couple of the critiques about my parents and having a fuller understanding of them and how they comported themselves. First, I appreciate your manners and thoughtful word choice in your critiques, but fire away. I've been putting myself out there for a bit now and the criticism is welcome. I have enough fans, if I want to improve as a writer and a communicator, it's going to come from thoughtful critiques, so don't be bashful.

One reason my work has resonated so throughout the tennis community is what I have tried to do is give voice to the voiceless in all this junior tennis stuff. All this talk about junior player development yet a disturbing lack of input from the juniors, past or present. And one of the reasons for that is we as kids in the thick of chasing greatness as young tennis phenoms don't really have our voices yet. We can't sit Mom and Dad down when we are twelve and say "Gee Dad, when you chastise me verbally for choking away a match, that hurts my feelings and could you not do that anymore" We lack the cognitive development and the emotional maturity to put in to language how we are feeling to the experiences we are having. But don't think for one second you're not going to know how I feel about things. You just have to have your translator working in high gear.

For when I cheated, or freaked out on the court snapping rackets, or folded under the pressure, or just flat out tanked a match, or as I got a little older, starting drinking and doing what not at night in direct contrast to my desires to be a successful young tennis player, I am communicating with you loud and clear that something just ain't right with how this whole tennis thing is going.

In the nebulous world of cause and effect, we're dealing with human behavior here and it's never that cut and dry. What part was mine, what part was his...if we were a boxing match, some judges may score a round my way, others his way. What I do know is that our dynamic was very unhealthy and my peers from my era who had front row seats to much of our dysfunction have been encouraging to write my story for many many years now.

Cathartic? Sure. Difficult to write? Incredibly hard. Had to write it fast for to swim in these waters too long I would have emotionally drowned. Did I turn out alright? Hey, the physician isn't all that far off, I've had to do a lot of work trying to make sense of things that happened that just don't make a lot of sense. What does one do with such an experience? Well before the book I had committed my professional coaching life to troubleshooting the similar toxic dynamics I saw in the kids and families I taught. I would love to tell you my story is the exception in the tennis world. Disturbingly far from it. But helping save some of these kids and families from potentially harmful outcomes is some of the most gratifying work I've ever done and likely ever will. Not exactly something I wanted to be an expert at, but when you're able to effect the quality and direction of a young mans life, it makes all the struggles worthwhile.

Again, thanks for all the thoughtful responses. Much more to come in the months ahead.

Peace,

Barry Buss

[don_budge]

Weird Scenes Inside the Gold Mine...The Doors

Just to cherry pick a bit:

To the physician, no offense taken. Obviously my writing hit a sensitive nerve with you and I apologize for that. But the reality of the world we live in is not every family is The Walton's...

The goal here is not to indict tennis culture or tennis parents or my parents for that matter; tennis is hard, parenting is hard, tennis parenting is pretty tough...the goal is to learn from our mistakes and to provide a healthier environment for the next generation of kids to come.

if I want to improve as a writer and a communicator, it's going to come from thoughtful critiques, so don't be bashful.

One reason my work has resonated so throughout the tennis community is what I have tried to do is give voice to the voiceless in all this junior tennis stuff.

starting drinking and doing what not at night in direct contrast to my desires to be a successful young tennis player, I am communicating with you loud and clear that something just ain't right with how this whole tennis thing is going.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9IIn3R6_50

From "The End"...Jim Morrison and The Doors...WAKE UP!!!

The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he
Paid a visit to his brother, and then he
He walked on down the hall, and
And he came to a door...and he looked inside
Father, yes son, I want to kill you
Mother...I want to...

http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=110&dat=19940502&id=sRRQAAAAIBAJ&sjid=8FUDAAAAIBAJ&pg=1818,2823282

Well it's been an interesting peek inside the gold mine of Barry Buss. There's been some damage and plenty of dysfunction. What's new? Everyone's got some baggage. More of less. It makes a better liar out of you in the end. But Barry has chosen the path less traveled and decided to make a clean break of it. Let the laundry out in public in the hopes that perhaps some of the other unwitting souls take note...and seek that higher ground.

The real truth of the matter is pretty simple but everyone chooses to make such a complex, convoluted mess of it that by the time we are done reinventing our stories it is always somebody else's fault. It's the parents, it's the school's, it's this or that. Always blaming one thing or the other. A lot of tennis players have their list of excuses prepared before they even take to the court. I always play better when the shit is crushing me. The thing that I like about tennis is that it really gives you a good lesson and many times a good spanking at the same time. It's all about you in the end...there isn't much wiggle room. You have to accept the reality of the situation...the responsibility is yours. You have to be full of yourself and learn to empty yourself of you at the same time. It's a juggling act.

So if you choose...you can make tennis a really WEIRD SCIENCE. It isn't that hard really. Read Barry's story. There are many different versions of it. It's no easy road...it isn't a straight and narrow path. Normally. I remember watching the mixed doubles parties at the old Dearborn Indoor Tennis Club back in the seventies. When husband and wife got together you could drop the doubles and substitute troubles...mixed troubles. So it goes with parent and child. It's a tough mix. The chemistry is weird. Possibly even weirder than boys and girls. Anybody ever had their heart broken? It's even worse than losing a tennis match if you can imagine that.

The game itself is pretty strange. It's a visceral game in the end. I remember reading in Psychology Today about forty years ago that tennis symbolically was like two guys trying to castrate each other. You have the racquets as swords and the balls represent testicles. Ouch! You really knock yourself out to win. You go to great lengths to prepare yourself. The coaches, the equipment, your game. You try to get all of your ducks in a row but the reality is that tennis mirrors life in many respects and your life can creep into your game at the least expected or unwanted moment. It's not a game of perfect...99.9999% of the time. Word salads evolve. Racquets are broken...hysterical behavior. It's all in the game son. But then in the end you put on a fine showing at Wimbledon or even just your local championships or just somewhere special and all is forgotten...all is forgiven. But deep down inside there is always that dark side.

It's a weird science...I am telling you. Coaching the game? You've gotta be a shaman. You lead them to the dark side and back again. Not for the feint of heart. Have I lost any of you yet? I can't tell. It's hard to hear your heads shake from here. Coaches are so skeptical of each other. Suspicious. Looking to discredit anyone that differs from one's own precious perspective. So the coaches are often psychotic with jealousy and inferiority issues...let's face it many coaches simply didn't make it at the level they wanted to so they took up coaching. The same can be said for many teachers. So you throw in an impressionable kid who's parents have some kind of dream for them...a dream of their own and not of the kid's. What have you got? A recipe for trouble. Dysfunction...or worse. Psychodrama.

Let me tell you a little story. It's a most horrible tragedy. It makes Barry's trip look like an amusement park ride. A trip to the beach. Once upon a time in Grosse Pointe, Michigan there lived a man named Ken Angyal (pronounced "Angel") and his wife and his son Thad. Ken was a product of the old Hoxie group that was legendary in the Detroit and Michigan area. The group ruled and dominated the tennis scene and had the cohesiveness of the old Aussie Empire of tennis. So Ken was pretty successful to a certain extent and he had the fire inside of him. His only son was Thad and it seems that he put this pressure on him to be something that he perhaps was not cut out to be. The father's tendency to pass on their dream to the son without taking the son into consideration. Afterall...he might have another dream of his own.

I remember Jeff Stasson...who was coaching Thad at the local community college coming to me and talking to me about the psychological nature of Thad. Thad had him perplexed. He didn't know where to begin. Thad seemed to be withdrawn and there seemed to be something eating at him. Gnawing on his young soul...like a rat gently nibbling at his heart. It showed up in his game. Far too often. He asked me to speak with him as I had a pretty good reputation with working with the difficult boys to work with. I told you I was a shaman didn't I. But anyways...we used to have this group of guys that used to play doubles on Wednesday nights and Thad was part of that group one night. His father used to play with us occasionally too. So I tried to talk to Thad...but it lead to nowhere although I think that we could have connected if we had followed up. I could have reached him. I know how to engage...read minds. At least get a good impression...a good profile. I struck a nerve when I asked if everything was ok with him...he looked at me as if there was something to say. I had a funny feeling.

One day I stopped at the donut shop on my to work at the Ford Rouge Plant in the morning. I picked up my coffee and my cinnamon roll plus my copy of the Detroit Free Press and saw the headline. Something about a fire...about a shooting. People were dead. I didn't look at the details or the names. I had to get to work. Later on I read the article. I remembered the look on Thad's face when I spoke to him. There was something to say. But it wasn't said. Then one night...how can you explain such a thing?

So...to the physician. I understand your reticence. For your son. You want to protect him from the evil in the world. It's understandable. And Barry...that was just plain gentlemanly of you to apologize. But no...it isn't the Walton's. Certainly not all of the time. In fact... we all live in some kind of emotional pain. I am convinced of it. I love tennis. It gives me a place to go. To act out my crazy impulses. The impulses turn into wicked slice serves into the ad court...really menacing stuff. Designed to hurt. To kill. To make my opponent wish that he was never born. I want to humiliate him...but at the same time I want to look like a hero doing it. I want to shake his hand...after all but dismembering him. Head hunting...that's a nice way to put it. It's something worse. It's a fine line I am telling you. The chemistry can be volatile. It can be a WEIRD SCIENCE. There is no way around it.

I don't allow the parents to be on the court when I am teaching. But I love to talk to them about their children afterwards...or anytime at all. Each and every one of them is so important to me.

[don_budge]

What's in a word...take the word "fuck" for instance.

As a son and a father I am dissapointed in Tennisplayer for publishing this. You are calling "I'd like to pop you in your fcking mouth" (dad) a graceful literary style?
As a physician I believe Mr Buss needs professional help, and should not use this publication- and its readers- instead of a counseling group session

fuck...vulgar slang
verb (trans.)

1 have sexual intercourse with (someone)

• (intrans.) (of two people) have sexual intercourse

2 ruin or damage (something)

noun
an act of sexual intercourse.

• (with adj.) a sexual partner

exclamation
used alone or as a noun (the fuck) or a verb in a various phrases to express anger, annoyance, contempt, impatience, or surprise, or simply for emphasis

PHRASES
go fuck yourself an exclamation expressing anger or contempt for, or rejection of, someone.
not give a fuck (about) used to emphasize indifference or contempt.

PHRASAL VERBS
fuck around spend time doing unimportant or trivial things, have sexual intercourse with a variety of partners
fuck around with meddle with
fuck off (usu. in imperative) (of a person) go away.
fuck someone over treat someone in an unfair or humiliating way.
fuck someone up damage or confuse someone emotionally
fuck something up (or fuck up) do something badly or ineptly.

DERIVATIVES
fuck.a.ble adjective

ORIGIN early 16th century: of Germanic origin (compare Swedish dialect focka and Dutch dialect fokkelen); possibly from an Indo-European root meaning (strike) shared by Latin pugnus 'fist.'

USAGE Despite the wideness and proliferation of its use in many sections of society, the word fuck remains (and has been for centuries) one of the most taboo words in English. Until relatively recently, it rarely appeared in print; even today, there are a number of euphemistic ways of referring to it in speech and writing, e.g., the F-word, f***, or f__k.

As a son...but not a father. sdinulescu comments from the perspective of being a son and a father. Perhaps it is a matter of perspective. I have no son...no children. I have a dog...I have tennis students.

But what is in a word afterall. Well let's think about it for a moment. Objectively. Without hyperbole. Just the two of us. Me and you. Hmmm...

I would, however, agree with the physician about using the "f" word. There are far more powerful ways to get the same message across. I never swear, never have...it's just my thing.

My father never swears either. I have never heard him say so much as "shit". I swear it. He has never taken a drink of hard liquor...or a cigarette. This fruit took quite a tumble from the tree. Does that make him a saint? Not me? At least I don't have any illusions of sainthood.

But the word. In this case. It's a thought that wasn't expressed but maybe it needed to be. Then the whole thing would have been resolved. Or at the very least it may have cleared the air for a moment. Or not. Maybe things escalate. Ok...maybe it is best it was left a stream of consciousness and left unsaid. But there is the danger of things festering...without being expressed. Oh shit...what to do? Well it's out there or rather the cat is out of the bag here on the forum and in Barry's book. Why not? It's only a word. But the word says it all when fully engaged. I trust Barry...he was fully engaged. A youngster fully engaged in tournament tennis...where on the big stage it is the gladiator show. The coliseum. Dad's in the background pushing all of the buttons. All of the wrong buttons...or so it seems.

Today I was riding home from town...we live out in the country. The wife and I for a change. Usually I ride alone which is just fine by me. Silence...the golden silence. She wants to make conversation...you know how women are. Little things...chit chat. I'm more of a thinker...lost in my own thoughts. Imaginary conversations or nothing at all. I am content in the silence of silence. But anyways...today we left first thing in the morning in separate cars to take the car to the shop. She bashed in the front lamps the other day trying to park. No big deal...nobody hurt. So we were riding home together and it is perhaps the peak of color here in Sweden...God knows there are enough trees. It was just spectacular. The reds, the golds...against the green of the pine and the firs. It's hard to put into words because one doesn't often come across that kind of beauty here on earth.

We made our way out of the little city and out into the country. It was one spectacular scene even prettier that the one before it. After a while you think that perhaps the wife slipped a hit of acid in the morning coffee. It transcends the real...reality. The drive reminds me of northern Michigan...the Upper Peninsula even. Like a hallucinogenic dream. If you've ever been there in the autumn you know what we are talking about. But anyways...back to our word. The word fuck...the dressing on a word salad. You know me...I write and write. Sort of like Oblabla...don't you think so. Get to the point don_budge...how you go on and on. Or not? Do I waste any words or don't they all need to be said. I think that I economize but some might think otherwise. What do I care? To each his own. Or her own.

I don't use that word in writing but when I am talking in private...with somebody that I trust and am fully engaged with...I use it. A lot. It's part of my charm. I would like to use it more often in public speaking...like when you get the opportunity to speak the truth to power. It's the only word that they truly understand otherwise they take you for being mealy mouthed and a mincer of words. You have got to let them know...you are fully engaged. Ready. For any and all consequences. I never use that word in a tennis lesson...everything in it's place. Sometimes in the secretive corners of the Gold Mine. It's ok. Don't have a hairy.

So the wife and I are riding out in the country and all that I say three or four times..."it's so fucking beautiful". Somehow that says it all. Because what that means is that it doesn't get anymore beautiful than that. No matter what the picture or whatever dark thoughts or conversations are blowing around in the canyon of the Gold Mine...the only word that really says the totality of the scene is just that. It's so fucking beautiful. She understands. She has heard it all before. Her previous husband died of cancer. It's a word that expresses a thought. If anyone else thinks there is another word that can say it all like that word...just tell me what it is. That word says it in just any situation...all that it means is total engagement. Total fucking engagement. Nothing held back. Nothing to hold back. There is a freedom to using the word fuck. Casting off all of the chains...all of the expectations. All of the taboos or no-no's. Like wanting to pop the old man in the kisser. Because he is being a real jerk.

Like the caption under the photo of Barry in a t-shirt that says..."hit it to him"...he didn't have a voice. But he had a brain. He had emotions. He had a thought. He had been to the primal side of life through the conduit of junior tennis. The sometimes dark side. Sometimes feelings must be swallowed but they can turn to bitter poison. Might as well say it. Let it out. Otherwise...there can be consequences. What is worse? Express yourself.

It was a thought. Barry didn't say it to dear old Dad...even though he wanted to. The word stands...and so does Barry's freedom to use it. John's a bit different alright...and in this case he was fully engaged. Didn't give a fuck whether it ruffled some feathers or not. My kind of guy. Different. Barry too...my kind of guy. Imperfect and flawed but willing to make the ultimate attempt to come to grips...and sharing in the process. It's a little heroic when you think about it. Maybe not just a little either. I am just holding out for a happy ending. A glimmer of hope. But even so...Barry's story has been a big success in my estimation. Every word stand's on it's own. He's being honest and last time I checked honesty is a virtue.

And there is so little virtue left in the world today. Whether or not to tell your son...it's up to you. I am glad I don't have that decision to make. It must be one of the toughest a man makes on the face of the earth. To be honest with your son about the way it really is...where to begin? Well...tennis is actually a great place to start.

So I go to my window and I gaze out into nature. I think to myself...oh well...I won't say it again. But it is beautiful you see. It's beautiful on another level...a level beyond the normal scene one gets used to in the city...in civilization. In nature...it is a bit raw. Just like the word fuck is. It's a little raw perhaps. But out here in the wilderness that is what it is all about. That word! The trees are doing it...the animals are doing it. We are all doing it or attempting to do it. Trying to engage with all of our might. There is passion in life and sometimes it comes with failure. Great failure. Unspeakable failure. Sometimes there is just one word that says it all. On either end of the spectrum. But sometimes it is better off being left unsaid. Or is it? One must judge for themselves. One must have the freedom to do just that.

[hockeyscout]

I've experienced those drives. They lasted an eternity. When it was a good victory the drives never seemed long enough. When it was a tough loss, or my willingness to come to net that was both relentless and reckless made me look like a Kamikaze rather than a modern day player failed, those drives were tortuous.

You know, I never had those long drives home as a hockey player.

My buds bid.

If I ever had a son who played hockey I would ask him, "Do you want dads opinion, or a coaches reality assessment."

It's something every dad asks his boy in Canada, and most by the way don't want dad's opinion.