Follow up to 2014 Winter Olympics, Here we come!
My wife very astutely pointed out that my father seems to be taking my blog as a challenge. A typical father figure, he can’t let his son be successful.
In reality it is just becoming more and more clear that my father is where I got my sense of humor. He wrote me the following story after reading yesterday’s post about the Olympics. I was laughing almost to the point of tears. Maybe he should start his own blog.
Ahhh, a déjà vu all over again.
As a 1 year-old, you were quite the Olympic athlete in your own right. I was watching the Olympic luge competition last weekend, and it suddenly occurredto me just how similar the one-man luge sled is to the old American Flyer sled –it had a passenger platform, two metal rails, and a steering mechanism. Then I saw for the first time the fatal accident that happened on Vancouver’s WhistlerRun, and it all came back to me. It was December 1981, the Olympic Qualifier on the Westmoreland Track (our driveway, which had at least a 35 degree slope). You and I were doing some practice runs together on our American Flyer, until it was time for you try one on your own. I placed you on the sled, face first mind you, because real lugers were fearless in those days. I wrappedyour hands around the cross bar, normally used for steering, but come on, a 1 year-old steering? And then I said, “hold on”, and gave you a good push. What I had not considered was your increased speed after 180 lbs were removed from the sled. After a morning of “packing the snow”, ol’ Westmoreland had become a fast track, and to your credit, you did hold on. I wish you hadn’t. I hope you have absolutely no recollection of this next part (meaning, I hope thebad dreams have stopped). At the bottom of the driveway was a split-rail fence. When both of us were on the sled, we never came close to that fence. But you were locked in for a dead-on collision with the bottom horizontal rail of that fence (and I’m not using the word “dead” lightly here). In milliseconds of time, thoughts like this one ran through my head, “If he keeps his head down,he has a shot at clearing the fence just under the lowest rail”. But NO. Like a dog hanging his head out a car window, you put your head straight up in the air– just feelin’ the breeze, I guess. Helplessly, I watched as you collided with thefence face first. The sled kept going underneath, and you dropped straight tothe snow. As for me, as soon as I realized what was about to happen, I brieflyentertained a pale hope that your sled would slow down and stop before you both reached the fence (I lost some valuable time there), and then after that, it all happened in slow motion, it seemed, as I began to run down the hill after you. Although I was unable to stop the accident from happening, I managed toget a good view. I look at your face now and wonder sometimes. If you’re happy with it, then so am I.
All joking aside, you took it like a champ. And, I suppose what happened next will not come as a surprise to you. I picked you up and said, “You’re fine……why don’t we rub some snow on that……and don’t tell mom” Alas, you blew your qualifying round and missed the next Winter Olympic Games.
Love, Dad
