Merry Christmas from Mike, Molly and Pat

I've always loved Christmas music. Well, everything but "The Christmas Shoes" and "Dominick the Donkey." Here are two Christmas songs I hope Michael holds dear to his heart. I love U2's version of this song. It makes you realize it's still good to believe in thing even as you grow up. "Little Drummer Boy" is my favorite Christmas song. I love the idea of adding "Peace on Earth" theme to it.

A gift from Tolkein

Gandalf talks to Frodo about violence.

Emerson on nonviolence

Peace cannot be achieved through violence, it can only be attained through understanding.
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Dr. King and the spirit of nonviolence

“Nonviolence means avoiding not only external physical violence but also internal violence of spirit. You not only refuse to shoot a man, but you refuse to hate him.” --
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Dr. Franklin's thoughts on peace

I hope...that mankind will at length, as they call themselves reasonable creatures, have reason and sense enough to settle their differences without cutting throats; for in my opinion there never was a good war, or a bad peace. 
-- Benjamin Franklin 
Why am I posting quotes about nonviolence?

On Jesus, Gandhi and nonviolence

As a child, I thought strength and courage were shown through the ability to dominate someone or something.
I thought peaceniks and pacifists were people who lacked the courage to fight.
Things changed in college. First, I read about the philosophy of Jesus, someone I thought I knew. There was a moment in the book that talked about Jesus' pacifistic teachings. Turn the other cheek. Blessed are the peacemakers. All that stuff. It was hard for me to accept those teachings. The ideas that you don't fight back, that diplomacy is a worthwhile tool, weren't macho enough.
The book didn't dwell on those teachings and, well, neither did I.
But a seed was planted.
Growing up, my father always told me I could buy a book whenever I wanted. He didn't really say so in words, but through his actions. If I went to a store and asked for a toy, a CD or a movie, I usually wouldn't get it if I didn't have my own money. But if I asked for a book, he always bought it.
When I moved to State College for my junior year at Penn State, I spent a lot of time in the bookstore. I was supposed to buy textbooks, but there were these other books that interested me. I called my dad, hoping to give him a list of possible Christmas presents.
Instead, he said, "Buy them. Don't go crazy, but buy the books you will read and I'll pay you for them."
It was a conversation that changed my life.  There were so many things I wanted to learn about.
I was interested in politics and picked up Bob Woodward's "Shadow," which examines the legacy of Watergate. It fostered a love of journalism that still grows in me today. I have also read every book Woodward has written. I picked up "The Three Musketeers," and "Don Quixote" hoping to read a classic tale or two. To this day, they are two of my favorite novels.
But the biggest purchase was a collection of the writings of Gandhi. I had no connection to the man, but something called me to that book.
It is, to this day, the hardest book I have ever read (Well, other than "Walden," which I still haven't finished). It challenged me in ways I never expected.
It sparked a respect for the politics and way of life that is nonviolence.
I realized, through Gandhi's simple prose, that it often takes more courage to not lash out. It also got me respecting nonChristians more than I ever did - which interestingly made me understand the teachings of Christ more deeply than before.
Don't get me wrong, I do think there are times when you have to act out to protect yourself. I'm not 100 percent in agreement with Gandhi. Because I don't have the courage to be.
I'm afraid to die. I'm afraid for the people I love to die. It is that fear that allows me to think it is OK to turn to violence when necessary.
Of course, I think soldiers serve a valiant purpose when they defend our country, which makes me think it's an even greater sin when leaders send them into danger for reasons that are not solely for our country's or an protection or defend human rights on a global scale.
Of course, I think a police officer has a duty to protect the public and a person the right to defend his or her home.
But I still believe that non-violence is the right course of action nearly 100 percent of the time.
After Friday's attack on a Connecticut school, and the feelings of rage it brought out in me, I feel the need to recommit myself to the ideas of nonviolence. It's why I'm publishing a quote espousing nonviolence every day.
I can only hope it will make me a better father, husband and citizen.

It is what is in your heart that matters

While you are proclaiming peace with your lips, be careful to have it even more fully in your heart. 
-- St. Francis of Assisi.


Why am I posting quotes about nonviolence?

The center of nonviolence

At the center of nonviolence stands the principle of love.
-- Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Why am I posting quotes about nonviolence?

Committing myself to nonviolence

The massacre in Connecticut has left me filled with a mix of three emotions: sadness, disgust and rage.
Its' OK to feel sadness for the victims and disgust for the action, but it is never good to harbor rage.
So I have decided I will try to spend time thinking about empathy and patience.
I would like to Michael to grow with a father who showed him how to live a nonviolent existence.
Now that doesn't mean I don't look forward to watching movies like "Star Wars," "The Lord of the Rings" or "Harry Potter" series.
Tales in which right overcomes wrong sometimes includes a violent clash. But I don't want him to watch movies where people are violent for the sake of glory, power or bloodlust.
To commit myself to a more nonviolent lifestyle, I am going to try to fill this space every day until Dec. 31, 2013 with at least one quote about nonviolence, it's virtues and its challenges.

What it's like in a newsroom when bad things happen

Gun violence in schools is a fact of life in today's America.
That's the one thing none of us can deny.
My wife teaches in the School District of the City of York. She has for four years. Before that she taught in the South Western School District, at Catholic schools, in her home town of Waverly, N.Y. and in Rochester, N.Y.
I have no doubt in my mind, after watching my wife care for me and our son, that she would lay down her life for a student.
Too often, in today's world, we vilify teachers. We complain that they're public servants and shouldn't make so much money. We moan and groan about their pensions. We argue about what they can teach our kids.
Sure, there are some bad teachers out there, but most of them deserve more respect than we as a society give them.
A couple times each year, I'm reminded about how dedicated teachers are. I'm not just talking about the tragedies that engross our nation.
It's not that rare that the police scanner at work says that Molly's district has been locked down.
When that happens my heart aches.
Terrifying thoughts run through my head: Is she safe? Is she suffering? Are her students safe? Is she lying in a puddle of blood?

It needs to be said

I don't think I've held Michael this tightly since the night he was born. I hugged him and Molly in our kitchen and I prayed for those children in Connecticut. The kids in the school, the teachers, the first responders, and, yes, even the villain who took the lives of so many innocent people.
I prayed for him because one day he was a child like Michael. A child who smiled, who took a first step, who giggled at the things children giggle at.
Oh, I know he did terrible, atrocious, unforgivable things today. But his inhumane actions do not take away the fact that at one point he was a child of promise. Of hope. Of love.
I've never understood how someone could take a life. Any life, for that matter. But to take the lives of children is inconceivable.
Look, it's inevitable that this country will one day overcome its issues with gun violence. At some point, we're going to cast aside the wingnuts and dingbats, settle down at the table and have a grown-up conversation about how to solve this problem.

Why we named our son Michael Scott

When people found out we named our son Michael Scott, many assumed it was because of the character on "The Office" played by Steve Carrell and created by Ricky Gervais.
Sure, I'm from the Scranton area. Sure, Molly and I love the show. But anyone who names their son after a bumbling boss from a sitcom has issues. OK, we have issues, but not those issues. Anyway, it's about time we explained how we chose his name.
The funny thing is that so many people thought I'd name our son after a Major League hero.
Everyone joked that we'd name our son Cole, Cliff or Roy after one of Philadelphia's Four Aces, or Chase, Ryan or James, after one of the Phillies cornerstone players (Utley, Howard and Rollins). Even Molly thought I might push for a baseball name. 
I told her that if I was ever going to name my son after a ballplayer that I could be talked into Christy Mathewson or Lou Gehrig, but the only player that means enough to me to name a child after him would be Jackie Robinson.

The hypocrisy of many "Fighting Irish" fans

My parents constantly took me to Irish events as a kid. Music festivals, stores with Irish merchandise, bars* with Irish regalia on the walls. So I regularly heard about the persecution of the Irish by the British, the wealthy, the British, the media and the British. I remember hearing a man at an Irish Cultural Society gathering railing against Harrison Ford - my favorite movie star - because he had the gall to be in a movie that depicted the Irish as drunk war-mongers. This was when "Patriot Games" came out, so I was probably about 10-years-old. I still hear relatives complain about being persecuted today, as if the Irish of today have the same problems as the clans in Killarney during the 1700s and 1800s. Ewan McGregor's character in "Angels & Demons" was changed from Italian to Irish and that was cited for Hollywood's hatred of the Irish. Of course, Hollywood loves the Irish**, but that's beside the point. The point is that many of my relatives, and other proudly Irish people, see the world mocking them at nearly every turn. Except, of course, the one that's most obvious. The Fighting Irish of Notre Dame University. Let's start by stating the obvious: If you love Notre Dame because it's a very good school, because its football team has a wondrous history, because you root for some of the kids on the team or, simply because you like the colors Blue and Gold, that makes perfect sense. You're 100 percent within you're rights there. But if you love Notre Dame because they have an "Irish" football team, you are being, quite simply, moronic. Especially if you're quick to point out the rampant persecution of the Irish. Let's look at the facts. Notre Dame was founded, not by Irish, but French Catholic priests. Well, at least it wasn't founded by the British. The athletic teams weren't known as the Fighting Irish until decades after they took up football. It's still unclear as to where the name first came from. Some claim in was because of an alumnus with a sports column in New York. Other claim it was because either Michigan or Northwestern fans were mocking the squad by chanting "Kill the Irish." Either way you look at it, they were called the Fighting Irish because of their tenacity and grit. That's something for the Irish to be proud of. If fact, people should have been proud of the Irish connection up until 1965. That's when that hideous leprechaun officially became the mascot. Prior to that it was some Irish terriers. Now, however, with their pugnacious mascot ready to get into fisticuffs at the drop of a bowler, it's insane that anyone who complains about portrayal of the Irish in the media would ever think that mascot is OK. Think about it. He's the same stereotype that angers many proud Irish. So if you like Notre Dame for a rational reason - the history, the scholarship, the campus, the colors - then, by all means, keep on rooting. If you love them because they're "Irish," an don't mind the pugnacious Mick brandishing his fists, then keep on rooting. But if you think they're "Irish," and are easily offended by other portrayals of the Irish, you're nothing more than a hypocrite. * Sure, you could make the joke that my being brought to bars as a child is a sign of being brought up Irish Catholic. I'd say my love of family, willingness to lend a hand to those in need and determination are signs of being brought up Irish Catholic. Being at the bar was just a sign my parents made bad decisions. ** Ahem, John Ford. Ahem, Edward Burns. More evidence: An Irishman has played James Bond and, now, Abraham Lincoln. Two of the greatest heroes in British fiction and American history.

Being thankful on Nov. 1

A lot of my Facebook friends, namely Joan Concilio and Courtney Cashour, will spend this month posting what they're thankful for every day. Since I can't figure out how to schedule Facebook posts, I'm going to knock this out in one rip. Nov. 1. For the first time, I can be thankful for having a son. Michael has given us so many things to be thankful for. His smile. His hugs. The way he makes other people smile. The way he cries whenever he sees Randy Parker. The past 11 months have brought so many unexpected joys.

Michael is ready for Sandy

The 10 movies I can't wait to watch with Michael as he grows up

As the entertainment editor, I have to put the movie reviews in our weekly entertainment section.
Today, thanks to its upcoming rerelease in 3D, I was reminded of "Finding Nemo."
 If you haven't seen it, you're cheating yourself. Not only is it one of the finest movies Disney and Pixar have put out, it's one of the most enjoyable movies of all time.
While I was editing the column, I thought about Michael. Someday we're going to watch it together.
I've thought about other movies that I'm going to enjoy watching with Michael as he gets older. But some of these movies, like "The Sting," "Jaws" and "The Shawshank Redemption," we'll have to wait a bit to watch together. Plus, I don't know that he'll particularly enjoy those movies.
But watching some kids movies with Michael will be such a blast. Here are the 10 Movies I can't wait to watch with Michael as he grows up.

Michael at the bat

Why we loved Shane Victorino

There are three types of players who really bring joy to fans.
The first is the Ken Griffey Jr.-type star who makes the game look so easy they inspire awe from the masses.
These players are very rare. You might have four or five in a generation.
Fans know they do not have the talent of these players - the Albert Pujols, Joe DiMaggios and Mickey Mantles of the world. The grace and beauty of their game separates them from the not just the fans, but other players as well.
The other type of player that really connects with fans are the ones who look like they understand how blessed they are to be in the big leagues.
Maybe it's a player who runs out every ground ball and plays with unparalleled intensity. Think of Pete Rose or Chase Utley.
These players help build up the deception that any man can play this game. Their gritty determination overshadows the ridiculous skills they possess. Rose had uncanny hand-eye coordination, the balance of an Olympic gymnast and the sheer strength of an NFL line-backer. Utley, meanwhile, entered the Major Leagues with the speed of a Division 1 point guard, the arm strength of an NFL quarterback, and a lot of power.
The third player is the guy who plays the game with so much passion and joy that fans can't help but think, that's how I would play.
That's Shane Victorino. When Shane Victorino confronted Hiroki Kiroda during the 2008 NLCS, demonstrating wildly that it wasn't right for Kuroda to throw at his head, every blue-collar fan in Philadelphia said, "That's right, Shane. You tell him."
When Victorino laughed at some strange event on the ballfield, every kid in Philly thought, "Yeah, that's how I'd react."
When Victorino cried after Harry Kalas died, he found a permanent place in the heart of every fan. We all thought, "He gets it. He gets us."
Would Philadelphia fans have loved Victorino, had he not developed into an All-Star talent? Yes, Phillies fans have a history of adopting players like Victorino. Think of Tug McGraw, Garry Maddox and John Kruk.

Why my son is already a Nittany Lion - Class of 2024, here we come

I don't know what the future has in store for my son, but I imagine the August of his 18th year will include going to orientation at Penn State.
Maybe he'll start out at University Park like his cousins Sarah and Shannon. Maybe he'll start out at one of the satellite campuses like his father and many other family members did.
Either way, we'll be starting his collegiate career at a university that is not defined by a monster and the misdeeds of a few but by the excellence of the many.
He'll be going to a university that counts among its former students: the screenwriter behind "Casablanca," Pulitzer Prize-winning journalists and award-winning authors; the scientists who helped discover the vaccine that protects against cervical cancer; the doctors who developed the heart pump; the inventor of the Slinky; the CEOs of Nike, Fisher-Price, Goldman Sachs and U.S. Steel; actors, writers and directors who were parts of Oscar-winning films; Nobel-Prize winning scientists and the man behind  the Mac.
And that doesn't include the recent crops of graduates. They now have a chip on their shoulder. They're looking at the world saying, "Doubt us? Go ahead. Watch what we're about to accomplish."

Michael has finally picked his favorite player

Mike and the Phanatics

A thank you to those who've made our country what it is

My three favorite days of the year are Christmas, Opening Day and the Fourth of July. So today - celebrating Michael's first Fourth - is pretty special.

The fourth is the perfect holiday. You can spend time with family and friends outside. You can eat great food, watch and play baseball all day and tuck into bed after a night of fireworks.
But I also want Michael to understand the sacrifices people have made for him.

Should Penn State shut down the football program?

One of the first things I did with my son was sing Penn State songs to him. The Fight Song. The Alma Mater.

I surprised myself when this happened. He was born just a month after Jerry Sandusky, Tim Curley and Gary Schultz had been arrested. At that point, I was still pretty angry with myself.
But I shouldn't have been surprised.
As angry as I was with Penn State because of its entanglement in the child sex scandal, The Pennsylvania State University is still a huge part of who I am.
Looking back, I was even wearing a Penn State sweatshirt when I held Michael for the first time.
But I am - and always will be - still proud to call myself a Penn State fan.
Part of that is because football, and yes, Joe Paterno himself, are far down the list of things that make me proud to be Penn Stater.
I tell you this in case this is the first time you've ever stumbled upon this blog because the next sentence is going to be a doozy.

Why Michael is awesome

Like every rational person on this planet, I think "It's a Small World" is one incredibly creepyass song.
For the purpose of this story it's important you know that.
I've downloaded a bunch of fun Children's songs and pop songs for Michael. Songs like "When You Wish Upon a Star." Well, last night I adde a particular creepy kid's song.
Tonight, as I got Michael ready for bed, I pulled out our Phillie Phanatic and Chase Utley puppets. He loved playing with them while "Crocodile Rock" and " You've got a Friend in Me" played.
The night was going well.
Then "It's a Small World" came on and all hell broke loose.
Mick burst into tears. He slapped the Phanatic. He but Chase.
When the song came ended and "High Hopes" came on, everything went back to order.
I now know for certain I have an awesome child.

Welcome back, Chase Utley

One star back, two to go.

In fact, Chase dropped by High Hopes to talk about the Phillies chances to make the playoffs.

The Phillies are still in last place

I will not give up hope.

A great verdict; a terrible feeling

Tonight, Jerry Sandusky - a former Penn State assistant coach and a former hero of mine - was convicted on 45 of 48 counts involving the sexual abuse of children. Tonight, little more than an hour after the verdict was announced, I walked into my six-month-old son's bedroom and scooped his sleeping body up in my arms. He didn't wake up. But he smiled in his sleep, which brought me to tears. I held him close to my heart and prayed that he would never ever come across a monster like Jerry Sandusky.
That's when the fear really and truly gripped me for the first time.
I've spent the past seven months rethinking my feelings for Penn State - an institution that was more than a football team, a school or a sleepy town in central Pennsylvania. It was home. The safest place I could ever imagine being. But the monster that is Jerry Sandusky changed all that. Suddenly, I was worried if it was a place that deserved a child like Michael. Suddenly, my memories were tainted.
The journey back to adoring Penn State for the greatness it gives to this world has been hard but worthwhile.

Which player shall be designated Michael's favorite?

Tomorrow, Michael goes to his first game.
We're going to have to get him a jersey or bobblehead or poster.
Thankfully we already have a personalized "Abdalla" jersey (Thanks, Emily) and an "I am the fifth starter" T-shirt (Thanks, Erin and Jeff).

poll by twiigs.com

One of the best days of my life

If you asked me what would make the perfect Father's Day, I'd need these ingredients: Michael, Molly, friends and family. Dogs and burgers on the grill would be nice. Dr Pepper would be fantastic. Adding a little Indiana Jones would be great. Oh, and a Phillies' win would be icing on the cake.
Well, thanks to the Phillies' loss to the Blue Jays, my first Father's Day as a dad didn't reach perfection.
But I'll take today over nearly every other one I've had (Exceptions include July 22, 2006 - our wedding day; Oct. 8, 2005 - Penn State's win over Ohio State with Molly by my side; Oct. 21, 2008 - Harry Kalas screaming, Brad Lidge kneeling, the Southpaw hopping up and down at Travis and Jill Lau's house.)
Molly had to work in the morning and early afternoon, so it was the Mike and Pat show early on. He had some mango and pear baby food - smiling the whole time - and played with his new toy. He was playing on the living room floor while I did some errands. When I came back into the room he made his little screech and reached for me. I walked over and hugged him. He squeezed me tightly and kissed me on the cheek. It was just a fantastically beautiful moment.
The Phillies game hadn't started yet, so we were flipping through the channels for some background noise when I came across "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull." Sure, it's not the best Indy flick, but it's better than 80 percent of the movies out there. Interestingly, Michael seemed into it. But Dad kept distracting him. Rolling the ball to him. Making animal sounds - which always get a laugh.
Eventually, we threw the 2007 season highlight reel in. Almost forgot what it was like to have the Phillies play exciting baseball.
Then the friends arrived. The grill was fired up. Then the Wiffleball started. It was a slow start - Michael was tired, so he cried during the first inning (Jess said he was angry over not being allowed to sing the Star Spangled Banner.)
When all was said and done, it really couldn't have been a better day.  (I'll pretend the Phils didn't play)

How time flies

Michael - slideshow dvd

It's hard to believe it's been six months since Michael first came into this world.
I keep saying it can't be. Our boy cannot be 6-months-old.
But he is.
Today I celebrated by taking him to Toys 'R' Us, in hopes of finding a toy for him. I had noticed a couple months ago that some toys say "Birth +" while others say "6-18 months" or something similar.
I pushed Michael up and down the aisles searching for the right toy. He's already got a glowworm thingy that he adores (Thanks, Brad and Sue) He already has a ton of books (Dad loves reading "Duckling Gets a Cookie," "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish" and "The Giving Tree" while Mom loves "Jazz Baby" and "Guess How Much I Love You." We both enjoy reading "Martin's Big Words" to him.) And he spends quality time with his Phillie Phanatic puppet and a train from Miss Darlene.
He was not old enough for the Transformers toys that looked so cool. Ditto the superhero toys. Some of the toys that fit in his age group looked cool, especially tool and kitchen playsets that teaches counting and color. But they were more expensive and I didn't want to buy them without telling Molly.
But each toy I looked at brought one of two thoughts to my head. The first, that I couldn't believe he would one day play with a toy like that. The second that I couldn't believe he was old enough to play with that particular toy. I'll probably feel the same way when we teach him to ride a bike and drive a car.

Molly's mowed over

Mark it down. May 24 was the first time Molly looked at me with a terrified expression and I could tell she was asking herself whether or not I was qualified to be a competent parent.
Yes, I'm shocked it took nearly six months, too.
The best thing is this: She was complicit in the whole affair.
She was rushing out the door to go to a York City School District concert when I asked her to help me put Michael into the thing that attaches him to my chest. (I can't remember it's name and it's too early in the morning to look it up. From here on out we'll call it the Iron Man Chest Plate.) I could tell she was excited because I had never used it before.
So she never asked why I planned to use it.
Not while she helped plop Michael into the Iron Man Chest Plate. Not while she helped pop it into place.
Then, as I followed her out the door, with Mick strapped to my chest, she asked what I was doing.
"Mowing the lawn."
She looked like Jacob Marley after he takes the bandage off his face in the George C. Scott version of "A Christmas Carol."

Move the curser to 3:35 and you'll see Molly's reaction.

"Are you sure that's safe," she asked. "Should I really leave my son with you," is what she thought.

"Yeah," I responded. When I realized this wasn't enough, I added that some of our friends had done it. I waited for her to fully turn into a mom and say, "Well if our friends jumped off the Route 30 bridge, would you?"

But she didn't.

She's not fully transformed into a mother yet.

When she left, I mowed the back of our lawn. The little man was indeed strapped to my chest while this occurred. 

So, was I a terrible parent?

poll by twiigs.com

Here's hoping they never forget Gary

I'll always love my hometown. Moosic, Pa., might not have the glitz an glamor of Hollywood, the style of New York City, the beauty of Paris or the history of Rome, but it's where I'm from so has a special place in my heart.
It's got my favorite ice cream stand (Bitty Bill's), my favorite pizza parlor (Dino & Francesco's), but most of all it has my favorite people.
The people of Northeastern Pennsylvania are, like the people in any small town, quite a group. They're not perfect and they don't try to be. They love to elect corrupt politicians from every part of the aisle, mangle the English language (They drink a "caffee" while eating a "couple, two, tree haatdogs," at a restaurant in "Troop" - which is inconveniently spelled "Throop." Yet they remember to say "tanks" to the waitress.), and consider a mixed marriage the wedding between a Polish girl and an Italian man.
Yet it is a place where most of the people - whether they've read "Don Quixote" or not - look at the world through the eyes of Alonso Quijano. They live to believe in things. It's in the very fabric of their being.
In the past few days the communities of Northeastern Pennsylvania, especially my hometown of Moosic and the surrounding boroughs of Taylor and Old Forge, have rallied around an impressive young man.

Wrap up games 33-39 and why I'm optimistic

Driving up to the house on Tuesday, I saw my father-in-law on the porch. He had been visiting since Sunday night, so I wasn't shocked to see him sitting there, working on his lap top.
What surprised me as I got out of the car was seeing Michael bouncing around in his jumparoo.
When he finally noticed me, he smiled. I love that smile. His dimples show up and his eyes seem to dance.
He even hopped a bit.
It was one of the happiest moments of my life.
It makes baseball seem so insignificant.

A great Mother's Day

My favorite memory of my Grandma Abdalla is from Mother's Day in 1993. I was 12 years old.
My family was gathered at her house in the west side of Scranton for some cold meat sandwiches, cold drinks and some good times.
This was during the summer I fell in love with baseball.

Games 26- 32 Wrap ups - Something's gottah change

It's a good thing Michael can't understand his father when we're watching games together.
Otherwise he'd be learning four-letter words that aren't spit, duck and cram.

The Phillies had a chance to assert themselves back into the National League East. Three games in D.C. against the Nationals, three at home against the New York Mets.

In the past five seasons - en route to five consecutive division titles -  the Phillies had gone 50-39 and 59-31 against the Mets and Nats respectively. The past six games saw the Phillies go 1-5.
It's not looking good.
Chase Utley can't even take fielding practice. Ryan Howard is still weeks away from playing a Major League Game. The team is 0-8 in the last eight games started by Cliff Lee and Roy Halladay.

The bullpen, aside from Jonathan Papelbon, is a mess. The offense is improved from the team's first 16 games, but still lackluster. The baserunning is atrocious (Juan Pierre, I don't care if you get caught stealing, but I do when you run into outs on the basepaths).

Despite having every starter's ERA below 3.30, this team is in last place.

Oh, and Tom McCarthy is talking as if this team is in first place and has everyone right where they want them. So you can't even enjoy watching them on TV.

Yet, I'm not too down on this team.

Michael is ready for the Nationals

Michael, it's May 4 and the Phillies are not in first place.

Sure they are.

No, Michael, they're not.

Are you sure? Who is then? The Nationals?

Actually, yes.

We play them tonight, right? Then they won't be in first for long.

Game 26 Wrap up - Joe Blanton, everyone.

"I got this, Mike"

The Braves thought they had it easy. They thought wrong. Joe Blanton whirled the Phils back to .500 with a 4-0 shutout.

Game 25 Wrap up - An honest-to-Gawd slugfest

Ask and ye shall receive. Well, not at Bill Bateman's Bistro Wednesday night. The Phillies had a chance to go above .500 for the first time since Opening Day.
Roy Halladay was on the hill and we were headed to Bateman's for our regular trivia outing. We brought Michael with us.
 He and I desperately wanted to see the game.
We walk in and what do we find? The Cubs-Reds game. The Nationals-Houston game? The Orioles-Yankees game? But no Phillies game.

Game 24 Wrap up - Back to .500

The Phightin' Phils are starting to click.
The recipe for Monday night's 4-2 win over the Atlanta Braves worked out well.
It started with a base of Cole Hamels. The left-hander went six solid innings, scattering six hits, two walks and two runs. A dash of Jimmy Rollins - back in the leadoff spot for the fourth straight game - provided some spice. The shortstop went 2-for-4, scoring a run. A splash of Hunter Pence, who also collected two hits while driving in one run and scoring another, helpe the cause.
The offense continued to show improvement. The Phils, after averaging 2.69 runs over their first 16 games, have scored 4.67 runs during their last eight games. Needless to say, they've gone 5-3 over that stretch. It's also worth noting that every member of the starting lineup had a hit.
But the recipe didn't just include the starters.
The Phils bullpen looked fantastic.
Chad Qualls, Antonio Bastardo and Jonathan Papelbon combine for three shutout innings.
With the win, the Phillies are back to .500 for the first time since April 16.

Baseball Vernacular- American League East teams

Editor's note: This is the first in a series of posts that will help my in-laws and other non-baseball fan readers understand the game. This one will concentrate on the teams that play in the big leagues. 

There are actually two Major Leagues. The American League and National League are early 20th century rivals that survive to this day, partially because they agreed to play in the World's Series in 1903.
The National League was the first of the Major Leagues. At times, it faced competition from the Players League, Federal League, American Association and Union Association.
The American League - sometimes called The Junior Circuit - formed in 1901.
To make a long story very short, the leagues combined under the umbrella of Major League Baseball over the years. They still play under different rules, the major one being that a designated hitter is allowed in the American League.
After baseball began expanding, things changed. In 1969, each league was divided up into two divisions, the East and the West. A third division, Central, was added in 1994.
Here is a look at the teams that play in the American League East.

Game 23 Wrap up - Good game, let's go eat

Thanks to Placido Polanco, the eighth inning was a big one for the Philadelphia Phillies. Thanks to Mom, it was also a big one for Michael.

Placido Polanco got a big hit.

The second baseman cracked a two-out, two-run single that propelled the Phils to a 6-4 win over the Chicago Cubs.

While the Phils were cooking up the rally, Mom had something new on the stove. She mixed up some milk and cereal for Michael. It was the first time he's eaten anything other than his mother's milk (Other than a quick taste from The Creamery).

Dad gave him his first couple spoonfuls. He seemed to like eating from the spoon. He sure grabbed it enough. Mom fed him some more too. Then we went to the bottle as Jonathan Papelbon (Mom says, "Didn't they call him Big Pappy in Boston?") brought home the save.

It's good to see Polly hitting. He was batting below .200 just last week, but has been 6-for-15 in his four games.

Game 22 Wrap up - A sub-.500 April

It should always be enjoyable watching a game,  5-1 loss to the Chicago Cubs, with a 5-month-old.
When your team only gets one hit through eight innings, that can be tough.
The Phils have fallen back to two-games below .500, a 10-12 record.

Game 21 Wrap up - A day in DC

The Phillies moved within a game of .500 after a 5-2 win over the Chicago Cubs. Mike and I didn't even see a pitch.
 He spent the day chilling with Grandma Stevens while Mom and Dad spent the day gallavanting about Washington, D.C.
I finally saw The Watergate, which was a big deal for us. I've been obsessed with the Watergate scandal since college. Molly swears that it was during a conversation about Richard Nixon that she first fell in love with me.
Yeah, she's nowhere near right in the head.
 Well, the big highlight of the day was seeing Bill Cosby perform at the Kennedy Center. The Cos is getting up there in age - which was a big part of his dialogue - so I doubt Michael will ever see him in person. But "The Cosby Show" was regular viewing in the Abdalla and Stevens/Kane households in the 80s. I've also read most of his books. There's no doubt we'll watch "The Cosby Show" reruns as a family. At least during rain delays

Game 20 Write up - Two steps forward; one step back

The Phillies still haven't won three straight.
Philadelphia opened a weekend set with the Chicago Cubs with a 5-1 loss. It was one of those rare days when Roy Halladay wasn't dominant. Of course, a stronger offense might have meant that would not have mattered.
Despite the rough day for the Phillies, it was a good day in the Abdalla household. I took a trip with my good friend Chuck to see a Frederick Keys game and we met Lavar Arrington.
On an unrelated note, Grandma is coming down to babysit while Mom and Dad head to Washington for a show.

Game 19 Wrap up - Offensive outburst continues

After the Phillies' 7-2 win over the Arizona Diamonbacks, you can't help but feel good.
The offense appears to be clicking. The Phils took 2-of-3 from a very good team.
Time for 3-in-a-row.

Game 18 Wrap up - Back on the winning side

The Phillies' offense has erupted, scoring eight runs tonight after a 5-run outburst last night.
It's progress as the team moved to 8-10 in the record book.
Bad Aprils are not uncommon for this bunch. As 2007 and 2008 proved, they can overcome them.
April is proving to be an interesting month from the fatherhood angle.
We're learning a lot about Michael.
He loves reading time. His mom reads kids books to him every night. I try to read some adult stuff too, a bit of Thurber here, some Rowling there.
Darlene and Jessica at daycare said they've never seen a baby that young follow along in a book.
He also loves to see himself in the mirror.
Oh, and eating Roy Halladay.

Game 17 Wrap up - Kyle Kendrick everyone

Let me start by saying I like Kyle Kendrick
The beleaguered right-hander has been the whipping boy of Philadelphia fans, who seem to forget he's a fourth or fifth starter and its unnecessary and imprudent to compare him to All-Star caliber pitchers.
If Kendrick pitches for 60 percent of Major League teams, he's a No. 3 or 4 starter.
But the Philadelphia Faithful refuses to warm up to him.
Well, he gave them reason on Monday, serving up seven runs on 11 hits in three innings in a 9-5 loss that dropped the Phils three games below .500.
He was downright terrible.
Now here's the thing most Phillies fans don't realize about Kendrick.
He's started 99 games for the club since 2007.
That means he's gotten the starting nod for the Phillies more times than:
John Denny (95)
Tommy Greene (89)
Marty Bystrom (64)
Kevin Millwood (60)
Paul Byrd (56)
Hard to believe.

Game 16 Wrap up - The day I couldn't care less about a Phillies loss

Dad, in the tie, before I was born.

I remember the M&Ms in my tiny hands. I must have been about four-years-old. Maybe a year or two older. 
But the five M&Ms are distinct. Two browns, a yellow and two oranges. I'm fascinated by the lowercase "M" on each of the candies. I eat them one-by-one, asking myself different questions: Are there candies with other letters on them? Why aren't there any greens or blues?
A whistle blows. The players gather around their coach. I'm not paying much attention to the basketball game that's going on. The M&M's are what is important. I ask my brother if I can have more. He pours a few more into my hand. With them comes an answer. There are green ones. My brother squeezes the bottom of the paper bag so that the top opens up. He pours the rest of the M&Ms into his mouth.
Sneakers squeak on the hardwood floor. I turn one of the candies upside down and and decide, no, that's not a "W." These all have "M" on them. My grandfather and grandmother sitting nearby. I abandon my brother, who had just seemed so cool popping open the bag of M&Ms, to see them. My grandfather smiles at me. He always smiles at me. Well, one time he was mad when I crawled under the table during dinner at a restaurant. I was looking for a gun from one of my GI Joe toys. "Get off the floor," he said. "It's dirty down there. Don't get your hands dirty before you eat." That's as close as he ever came to yelling at me.
My father yells. I stop what I'm doing and turn away from my grandparents. I follow his voice to the other end of the gym. He's not yelling at me, but he's yelling to one of the players. I don't understand what he's saying. Realizing I'm not in trouble, I turn my attention back to my grandfather. I show him my new toy.

Game 15 Wrap up: And back below .500

Padres 5, Phillies 1.
Back under .500.

Game 14 Wrap up - Back to .500

A conversation between dad and Michael around 10 p.m. Friday night:
Michael (Looks at Dad): Aaahaaa
Dad (taking that to mean, "Who's Pitching tonight?"): Cole Hamels.
Michael smiles.
Hamels goes on to lead the Phillies to 4-1 victory and a trip back to the .500 mark.

Game 13 Wrap Up - Do you get half a win for this

Another strong pitching performance, this time from Vance Worley, and the Phillies are back within a game of .500.
The Refrigerator pitched seven shutout innings, walking three, scattering four hits and striking out a career-high 11 as the Phils beat the San Diego Padres, 2-0.
Worley continues to impress, improving his record on the season to 1-1 with a 2.37 ERA and 21 strikeouts against 17 hits and eight walks in 17 innings.
Then again, he was pitching against the Padres, who have as ineffective an offense as the Phillies.

Michael shows us the difference between Pittsburgh and Philly

Game 12 Wrap up- Seriously?

OK, Cliff Lee tossed a shutout and the Phils still couldn't get the win, falling, 1-0, in 11.
The Phillies have scored 35 runs in 11 games. That's just a tad more than 3 per.
Pafreakinthetic.
As a team, they are in the bottom thee in the National League in runs scored, on-base percentage, doubles, triples, slugging and OPS.
But you probably figured that out.

Game 11 Wrap up - Go West

West Coast trips suck when you have responsibilities. You can't watch the games.
You have to read the recaps. All I know is the boys lost 4-2. I've still got hope.

Game 10 Wrap up - This Roy Halladay kid is pretty good

So Roy Halladay pitched again. The ace dominated again.
This time his victim was the San Francisco Giants. He got some help, though, as the Phillies scored four first inning runs during the 5-2 victory.
That makes me worried they won't score the rest of the week.
In Michael related news, the kid laid in the grass for the first time. I've seen some kids freak. Not Mike; he's smooth like Doc

Game 9 Wrap Up - Beat the Mets

The Phillies beat the Mess, 8-2.
More importantly, Dad, Matt and Jordan spent most of the Phillies game playing Whiffleball in the sun.
Doesn't get much better than that.

Game 8 recap - Michael's worst day ever

Michael began the day getting two shots at the doctor's office.
Then he had to watch the Phillies get shutout by the New York Mess.
Well, at least he got to watch "Casablanca" at night.

Game 7 Recap - Back under .500

Michael is not happy. The Phillies lost to the Mets, 5-2, Friday night. That means the Phillies are back under .500.
The night was not without it's special moment however.
Even Michael had to laugh at Josh Thole.
Oh, you haven't heard about Josh Thole.

Game 6 Wrap Up - Treading water never felt so good

And you thought the season was a lost cause.
You forgot the Phillies had Joe Blanton.
The Big Fella scattered just three hits over seven innings while walking one and striking out three.
It was, so far, the best performance by a starter not named Roy Halladay.
Thanks to Blanton's effort, the Phillies earned a 3-1 victory over the Florida Miami Marlins that included a perilous ninth inning that saw Jonathan Paplebon allow two runners to reach base before getting a ground ball double-play to end the game.
This season isn't over yet. Your Fightin' Phils are back at .500 and have 156 games left to capture the division.
On a side note, Michael did not finish eating Roy Halladay.
Don't worry, Joe. There are no Blanton figures from MacFarlane.
But keep it up, and we'll see one.

On Hilary Rosen, Ann Romney, Bill Donohue and parenting

My son was born four months ago, just before Christmas.

It was the most transformative moment of my life.

As I held him for the first time, I felt so much joy, but also so much fear. Every decision I would make from there on out had to be at least somewhat based on how it would affect his life.

I do not have the ability to put into words how much I love him.

And I don’t care if you’re married or a single parent, gay or straight, millionaire or poor, once you’ve felt that love, your life is forever changed. The responsibility of parenthood is immense.

That’s why the recent hubbub between some politicos bothers me first.

In case you weren’t paying attention, here’s the run down:

Ann Romney, the wife of presumed Republican Party presidential nominee Mitt Romney, defended her husband, saying he wasn't anti-woman.

Democratic strategist Hilary Rosen responded by saying “Ann Romney never worked a day in her life.”

For what it’s worth, Romney has multiple sclerosis.

A somewhat serious interview with Michael's mom

Cole Hamels

I thought I was going to be able to get an interview with Steve Carlton before I got Mrs. A to join the blog.

But it just took five games for her to cave.
She discusses her love of left-hander Cole Hamels, the possibility of trading her first born to keep the ace in Philadelphia and why she's so attached to the little bugger. (The baby, not the pitcher.)
High Hopes: So, who do you like more? Cole Hamels or Baby Abdalla

Game 5 Wrap Up - Roy Halladay wins again; gets slimed

Roy Halladay breaks faces; Baby A eats faces.
The Phillies hurler extraordinaire dominated the Marlins over seven innings, allowing one run and five hits in the 7-1 victory.
The performance inspired Michael, who took the opportunity to introduce himself to the Good Doctor.

Game 3 Wrap Up - These things happen

The Philadelphia Phillies continued their struggles in Pittsburgh Sunday, falling to the Pirates on a Andrew McCutchen walk-off hit.
I tried to explain to Michael how absurd this is. The Phillies are 475-340  since the beginning of the 2007 season, yet 7-12 at PNC Park in the same span.
But his 4-month old mind hasn't fully wrapped itself around sabermetics.
Back to the game:
Vance Worley pitched well. Very well. He left with a lead and should have gotten the win. The Phillies did score a season-high four runs.
Remember when they had 20 hits in two games in 2008? That's not happening in 2012.
So Worley left after the sixth, having scattered five hits. He also struck out five and walked one.
No, you can't ask for anything more from him.
Or Juan Pierre, either.

Game 2 Wrap up - Two games, two runs, one win

For the second straight day, the Philadelphia Phillies got another dominant performance from their starter, but just one run on offense.
This time, that recipe led to a 2-1 loss to the Pittsburgh Pirates as the Fightins fell to 1-1 on the young season.
Cliff Lee pitched six shutout innings as Phillies starters have yet to give up a run.
Well, technically.

Michael has a special message to Phillies fans

"Ain't this a game grand?"

Game 1 Wrap up - Halladay starts strong

In case you missed it....

This one went in the win column, thanks mostly to Roy Halladay.
Good ole No. 34 tossed eight solid against the Pittsburgh Pirates.



The history books will mark this one down 1-0, with Carlos Ruiz getting the game-winning RBI on a sacrifice fly.
Freddy Galvis made his Major League debut. It was a bit less bloody than Michael's earthly debut.

Southpaw Jr., however, did have something to say about Jimmy Rollins, who laid down a beautiful bunt in the first inning.

Michael and I watched the first few frames together during my lunch break. Sure, I would have loved to watch the entire game with him. But just getting a couple innings in was great, especially since it was his first real Phillies game. But we've got plenty of years ahead of us.


All in all, a good day.

Happy Opening Day

Happy Opening Day

We here at High Hopes wish you a wonderful Opening Day. As always, thank you for reading and following along with our big adventure.

Roll over, Beethoven ... or something like that

Phillies infielder Michael Martinez cannot roll over.

Michael can roll over.

Anything you can do, I can do better

Ryan Howard fields ground balls. (Photo credit to Associated Press)

Michael can do that, too.

What Michael can learn from Jim Bouton

Jim Bouton

I cried when I finished reading "Ball Four." I was 29 years old when I finally read Jim Bouton's controversial, honest and beautiful memoir and the last line of that book is my favorite sentence in the English language.
Yes, it's better that "Play ball," at least to me, because it's the most truthful thing I've ever read.

"You see, you spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball and in the end it turns out it was the other way around all the time."

 I'm not going to overanalyse this passage, other than to say it's so simple. There is no high-flying rhetoric, just honesty. Something that's in short supply these days. Yes, the sentence seems corny, but when Jim Bouton ended his book - a memoir that peeled back the cover of Major League Baseball and showed its seedy underside - you realize how much a simple game can mean to a man who is portrayed as being so jaded.

I thought about this passage the other day as I was holding Michael. I guess it turned out it was the other way around.

Guys days in

When Mom is away the boys will play.
Molly is spending the night in Chambersburg to see our friend in a play. Then she's spending the evening at The Gary Owen in Gettysburg. Tomorrow and Sunday she's working at Kays.
That means Michael and I get more bonding time. (I'll finish posting the diaries from Vacation with Michael tomorrow)
Here's our agenda for the next two days:

Vacation With Michael Day 10: Road Trip

We spent Friday on the road, heading up to Waverly, N.Y., Molly's hometown.
The trip always takes longer than we expect.
Normally it takes us longer to leave.
While we got out a bit late this time, it wasn't hours late like normal.
This time, we were sidetracked by The Atomic Baby.
We stopped in Scranton - at my sister's - midway. Making a rest stop at any of my sisters' or my parents' is perfect. Clean bathrooms, clean place to change Michael, and a quick visit. We try to keep it under half an hour. That's about how long it would be if we stopped for dinner mid trip. And we usually eat during our break.
Well Michael went thermonuclear. He rarely does this, but something crawled up his three-month-old arse and we spent a good 20 minutes trying to calm him down.

Vacation With Michael Day 9: Under Pressure

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We've already established that I'm trying to get Michael to like the same music I do.
Well, we might have finally found common ground.
My son loves Queen.
The boy had barely responded to any of the other music I played, though he seems to enjoy when others sing Johnny Cash Songs.
Then came Freddie Mercury and the boys of Queen.
He's like his old man. I never would have called Queen my favorite band - that title has pretty much always belonged to U2 (since college) or the Creedence Clearwater Revival (about three of my four high school years).
But Queen has always sounded so different to me. Bit of opera, lot of rock, a sprinkling of the blues, a dash of Motown and a pinch of R & B.
My first recollection of Queen isn't "We Will Rock You," "We are the Champions" or "Bohemian Rhapsody." It's "Another One Bites the Dust."
I remember being at a Scranton/Wilkes-Barre Red Barons game when I was growing up and music played after a Red Baron struck out. My brothers-in-law Tom and Gene were with me. They laughed at the music.
I asked them why. They told me it was the song "Another One Bites the Dust."

Vacation with Michael Day 8: Talking with grandma

We've got a pretty good routine going. Michael and I get up around 8 or 9 every morning. We have breakfast, watch a little "Law and Order" or a documentary from Netflix.
Sometime later, I call my mom and put it on speaker phone. My parents haven't gotten to see Michael often. They're getting on in years and don't like to travel. At least that's what they say about visiting four of their five children. Cough, cough.
 So these conversations have meant a lot. I put the phone on speaker and my mother will say, "Baby" and Michael will make some noises. Part of me wants to buy my parents an iPad so they can Facetime or skype with him. The rest of me, however, knows they won't download skype or use the iPhone so it wouldn't be worth it. Then the rest of me remembers I'm a journalist. So I don't make enough to buy my parents an iPad.
Soundtrack for Day 8: Paul Simon's Graceland

Vacation with Michael Day 7: Cashing in

During my two-week vacation with Michael, I tried to introduce Michael to different musicians I enjoy. Part of it's because I hope we'll have something in common someday. Part of it is because it just makes the day enjoyable to listen to the music I like. I spent the first day playing Billy Joel. I moved on to U2, Stevie Wonder and so on.
Looking back, I noticed it shows the progression of my taste in music. I grew up buying up every Billy Joel song I could find. My first CD was "An Innocent Man." It's still one of my favorite albums.
While I still consider the Piano Man to be one of my favorite musicians, he's taken a back seat over the years to U2.
The fourth day of our vacation saw us take a trip to State College, which meant our soundtrack for the day was the Penn State Blue Band.
Today we listened to Johnny Cash. I never really listened to him until I got to college. My roomate Dave had a couple of Cash's songs on his computer and that planted the seeds. Molly, however, really likes Johnny Cash and June Carter, so we've picked up a bunch of CDs and records over the years.

Vacation Day 6: Blow it out your nose

And on the sixth day, Michael died. Well, that's what I thought was happening. Michael woke up around 8:30 Tuesday morning, which meant I woke up around 8:35. After playing for a little bit, he seemed hungry. Eating his hands, crying loudly. So I grabbed a bottle of milk, warmed it up and proceeded to feed. While Mike ate, I turned on "Law & Order: SVU" on Netflix. That's our established routine. The bottle warms up during the cold opening. Then I sit down with Michael as the opening credits start. Sometimes, if I time it right, the "Boom boom" accompanies the his burps. So during our feeding on Tuesday, Michael must have been filled to the brim. In the middle of feeding, he coughed once, gagged and did the most disgusting thing I've ever seen a human do. He spit up. But it wasn't a regular spit up. Milk came out his mouth and his nose. And here's where it gets nasty. The milk that came out his nose went into his mouth. Dad gagged. But the difference between adult and child is a simple one. Liquid did not come out my nose, and if it had, I would not have swallowed it. Tuesday's soundtrack: Crosby, Stills and Nash.

Vacation Day 5: My son, the nudist

It's going to be a while before I find out whether or not Michael is left-handed or right-handed. It's going to be even longer before Molly and I learn whether he is a power hitter or slap-hitting speedster.
One thing we already know is that he loves to be nude.
Molly had warned me about this a while ago, but it wasn't until Monday, while listening to some Bruce Springsteen, that I truly understood.
When Michael has cried, it usually meant one of three things:  he was hungry, he needed to be changed, he was tired.
The tired cry just doesn't have his heart in it.
The changing cry is high-pitched.
The hungry cry builds slowly and sounds more angry.
On Monday, I couldn't figure out why Michael was crying. I tried to feed him. Nothing.
He was too animated to be tired. So I plopped him down on the changing table.
That's when things got interesting.

Vacation with Michael Day 4: Happy Valley

Michael and I on a blustery day in Happy Valley.

Sunday might have been the most emotional day for me since Michael's birth.
We took Michael to State College for the first time.
If you know me, you know what Penn State means to me. It's not just a football team or a school. It's home. My father taught electrical engineering and coached basketball at one of the branch campuses, Penn State Worthington-Scranton. My mother worked there. I played baseball there. I was student government president. I can remember walking around that campus in Dunmore when I was just a child. I'd hide out in my dad's office, pretending to be a Ghostbuster, while he taught classes.

That's me, kneeling fifth from the left.

As for University Park, I think my earliest memory is from a trip there. I vaguely remember going to my sister Mary Jo's apartment. I was three or four when Mary Jo graduated, so this memory is pretty early. I'm pretty sure I remember my sister Betsy being there, too.  I wanted something to drink and Mary Jo gave me this glass filled with a dark liquid. She told me it was iced tea. I remember saying I didn't know what that was and asking if they were sure they didn't have apple juice.
I remember not liking the tea. It's my first memory of anything bitter.
Now, I'm practically addicted to iced tea.
I have similar memories of visiting all of my siblings while they were students at Penn State.
It's where I first saw an R-rated movie ("A Few Good Men" with my brother Mike), where I first met my sister-in-law Patty (I transformed into a car upon the introduction. Ert-eet-ert-eet-ert), where I got "The talk."
And then I went to school there, gaining some of the best friends anyone could ask for.
It's not just the place where I grew up. To myself, and others like me, it really was the safest place on earth.
That's why the past year has been so devastating.


(Pat's Note: If you don't want to read about my thoughts on the scandal, but do want to read about our trip, skip to the next page)

It's hard to imagine, but that's me third from the right, in the sweater.

One of my other earliest memories is of looking up at my father. We're in the stands at Beaver Stadium and he's peering through binoculars. He's telling me about the man who patrols Penn State's sidelines, Joseph Vincent Paterno. When your father looks up to someone, that can only mean one thing: That person must be a god or at least close to it.
I have one other important memory of my father and Penn State from my childhood. It's the memory that will mean the most to me when he's gone.
I'm about six or seven. I'm looking down on my father - when does any six year old get to do that? - from a small tree in a parking lot near one of the dorms at Penn State. Dad's sipping a coffee and reading a book. I'm out on a branch playing with some Transformers. I watch as my father looks for me and notices I'm not there. He says my name. I stay quiet and watch as he walks around looking for me. I'm too innocent to realize how much I might be scaring my father. When he finally finds me, he doesn't yell at me. He laughs. I remember feeling very loved then as he rubbed my head.
Shortly after Molly told me we were having a baby, the Sandusky news broke.
I remembered interviewing Sandusky and him having his arm around me as we talked. I remembered how my father had even spoken more highly of Sandusky than Paterno at times.
While the news bothered me greatly, my love for the school stayed strong.
I used to joke that my child could be a Democrat or Republican, a Mets fan or Phillies fan, but would have to be either a Penn State fan or go to Penn State. My school would somehow be my child's school.
But as football season came near, I couldn't really get into it.
We scheduled a baby shower the day of a game. I didn't even realize it. I always checked the Penn State schedule. Stuff like that wouldn't have happened in previous seasons.
Part of me realized this was going to be bigger than Sandusky.
Then the charges were filed. It was so much worse than I could have imagined. Two Penn State officials were charged with perjury. A coach claimed to have seen an assault. Paterno had been told.
And Jerry Sandusky had been in the football facilities months after Paterno had testified. He - and other Penn State officials - knew what his former assistant was accused of. They knew he was a danger to children and the program. Yet, Sandusky was allowed in the buildings.
I wanted to vomit.
I thought about loyalty.
A big part of me said, "Joe couldn't have known. Defend him."
But a bigger part of me said some things mattered more.
Those children, for one thing.
I also realized that I had to be loyal to the beliefs and ideals that Penn State, Paterno and my father had taught me. Doing more than what's expected, doing the right thing, protecting the defenseless.
Those ideals will always be more important than any man or institution.
Now, I didn't like the way Paterno was fired, but I agreed with the decision.
And, no, I don't think the media, the board of trustees or the scandal killed Paterno.
He might have died with a broken heart, but cancer killed him.

But Coach Paterno will always be more to me than this scandal.
He's a coach who never forgot he was also a representative of a school. Scholastics were so important to him he helped make that small school one of the brightest beacons of light in this state.
He's a man who dedicated time and money to the Special Olympics.
And yet, I couldn't help but feel the man who always seemed to do more, hadn't done enough.

Vacation Day 3: A wonderful afternoon

Today was a very special day for me.
I watched a live baseball game with my son for the first time.
We were playing in Michael's bed room. I had just changed him and he was singing along to Stevie Wonder songs when I saw a Facebook post from Brian Misiura, "Phillies vs. Yankees - Baseball is back!"
I quickly dressed Michael and changed out of my New Oxford Rays shirt.
We turned on the game in the second inning.
Aside from a nap during a couple of commercials and the seventh inning, Michael watched the entire game.
I gave him some advice.
"Michael, if the guy in front of you walks on pitches that are nowhere near the strike zone, don't swing at the first pitch." And, "Michael, if you just walked a guy and the next batter swings at a ball, you thank him. He's about to get out."
But the biggest advice I gave him was this:
"No matter what, kiddo, it's a game. Don't forget that. Whether you're playing T-ball or in the Big Leagues, it's just a game. You're supposed to have fun. I'm not going to lie. It's, mentally, the hardest game in the world. And it will break your heart more than any girl. But it can bring you a ton of joy. If I could spend an afternoon shagging fly balls hit by your grandfather, I would. If I could play catch with your cousins. Riding the bus with teammates to a game. Those are the special moments you'll take with you for ever. The feeling of a well-struck ball flying off your bat. It all boils down to having fun."

Vacation Day 2: U2 and the Promise of Spring

Seven months ago, Michael was growing inside Molly as she and I attended a U2 concert at Soldier field in Chicago.
It was a beautiful day.
The band was fantastic, Molly was beautiful and my heart was light. Two or three times, she'd put her hands around her belly and say, "Do you hear the music, baby?" Then I would tear up.
It was a nice trip, seeing Molly's brother Jude and his girlfriend Nicole. It was our third trip to the windy city and made all the more enjoyable because Molly's mom came with us. (It was great sharing driving duties.) We even went on a tour of Wrigley Field.
But as much as I love Wrigley Field (It's my favorite Major League Stadium), that concert meant the world to me.

What Michael can learn from Joe DiMaggio

It's not the triple crowns, MVP awards or World Series rings that really impress you. When it comes to Joe DiMaggio, you're awed by the grace and elegance. First, the grace. There's a story that's often told about The Great DiMaggio and his outlook at how ballplayers should represent themselves. You have to hope it's not an embellishment. DiMaggio is supposedly getting on in years, when a young player asked him why he hustled in a meaningless game. The Hall of Famer is reported to have responded, "Because there is always some kid who may be seeing me for the first time. I owe him my best." Now, the elegance. DiMaggio was married to Marilyn Monroe for just nine months when they divorced. (Can anyone be married to Marilyn Monroe for "just" any amount of time?) Yet, when Monroe died, DiMaggio ordered fresh roses be put on her grave every week.

Vacation Day 1: Billy Joel and the diaper dandy

For the first time since college, I have two weeks off. I'm going to spend this time with Michael. I've been looking forward to this since before he was born. It's pretty much just going to be the two us on weekdays.
His mom is going back to work and when my vacation comes to an end, he's going to be heading off to daycare.

Molly is pretty torn up. She's been at his side for the entirety of the first three months of life.

Michael, of course, didn't miss a beat.

It makes you realize how adaptable babies are.

Things went pretty well for the first day.

Michael spent much of the day listening to dad's collection of Billy Joel albums. He didn't complain; but he didn't really have a choice.

Again, it just goes to show how adaptable babies are.

Dads, on the other hand, are not as adaptable.

Michael found something and I hope I remember it

I've come to realize that fear is a big part of being a dad.
No, not making my kid's knees shake at the thought of me pulling off a belt and teaching him "what for," or the idea that I might one day unload my 9 mm. into his laptop.
I'm terrified I'll leave him in the car, or make his bath too hot, or that he'll catch whooping cough, or get sucked down the drain.
But for myself, the only thing I'm really scared of is forgetting these moments.

What Michael can learn from Jack Roosevelt Robinson

The most important thing Michael can learn from Jackie Robinson is this:
Every man can accomplish great things so long as he is given the opportunity.

Spring Training is here - everyone needs practice

Michael has been watching his manic father all day.
He's heard me sing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" during each of his feedings. He watched me change his diaper while telling him that it's the little things in life that matter.
"Sure, no games are being played today," I said. "But practice is important. It's more than just repitition of fundamentals, too. It's getting to know your new teammates, rookies learning the ropes, a veteran establishing his presence on the team."
I made this slideshow while explaing that you really do have to spend hours honing your craft if you want to be any good.
Sure, he didn't understand a word I said; he's two-months-old afterall.
But this was good practice for me. I'm going to have to make this speech again, you know.