Alright. Everything is alright. I mean, you can cheer up because it's much worse than you know, but relatively speaking, everything is alright. This column is meant to speak to the Baby Boomers. But naturally, like the last one, it's for everybody.
First and foremost, I just want to thank you guys for raising me and nurturing my development. I wouldn't be a fraction of the man I am today if you hadn't taught me honor, respect, and hard work. And this goes beyond my parents. I had many teachers, bosses, professors, and mentors from your generation. I wouldn't have been shit without you.
One time, shortly after college, I went back to grade school to thank some of my teachers for putting up with me and for developing me. I was a crass little shit and I felt that I owed them all an apology. I was specifically looking for two teachers. Neither were there (field trip, I guess). I was with two friends from grade school: Rodney and Bill.
Anyway, the principal remembered me (I saw the principal A LOT in grade school) and when I told her I graduated college in four years she responded: "Well that's nice. I always assumed you'd end up dying in a bar fight."
Some of the adults understood that I had to do things my own way. And they let me. "There's still time," I responded.
She sighed. Your generation is always sighing at me.
At Manchester Athletic Association I got to meet some of the Boomers I loved the most. They looked out for me and promoted me quickly. My fellow umpires were rather upset that the long-haired, shit-talking asshole who they went to school with got moved up the ladder the quickest (I started at 14 years old). Many coaches and board members hated my ass too. If I was a crass shit as a child, you can bet your ass I was a horrible human being as a teenager.
But some of the adults understood that I had to do things my own way. And they let me. Some of them were my fellow umpires; most of them were not. I would name these people but the list is far too long and there would be many people left out if I did so.
The list of the assholes of your generation that fought against me every chance they got is equally long. But in a way, those guys taught me too. They taught by challenging me. And they did not know who they were fucking with.
Or, as I overheard one long-haired, tattoo-covered coach tell one of his players, who had asked exactly why Coach didn't argue a particular balk call like he usually did:
"I ain't going out there, boy. He knows the rule book better than God himself and he has an itchy trigger finger."
Everyone needs people to raise them. And some of the best people in the world raised me. I was one of the lucky ones.
So thanks again, Boomers, for making me the man I am today. Really and truly: I could not have done it without you.
And of course, a special thanks to my parents, whom I love dearly and who love me dearly.
Peace and Victory, y'all. Peace and Victory.