20 years, and he recognized me...behind my sunglasses?

A nice weekend for the Rock Cats, pulling two of three out against the Bowie Baysox (AA-Orioles). We had great crowds, with almost 23,000 people through the turnstiles, Dancing Christopher, dramatic endings and as usual, a fun time. However, I had a very interesting thing happen to me as I was taking care of my usual patrons on Sunday afternoon.

About half way through the game, a man approached me, looking vaguely familiar. He was scruffy, seemingly in need of a shower and/or a shave, wearing his favorite Red Sox t-shirt and hat. And he knew my name...first and last...even though I had my big, blue mirror sunglasses on, along with my Rock Cats hat pulled down low. This was unsettling at best...and had me looking for a security guard.

Said scruffy man went on to introduce himself, telling me that he and I went to high school together. It was then that my proverbial light went on, and I realized who he was. However, in realizing who he was, let's just say I was less than pleased he'd recognized me. Trust me, I did my best to show him I really wasn't interested in a big reunion with someone I've been doing my best to avoid for the past 20 years.

To be frank, once I graduated high school, I never looked back. Those four years were my life's most unhappy time as I was the victim of horrible bullying and taunting during my high school days. Most of my discussions about it with my teachers and administrators fell on deaf ears, with the bulk of the conversations ending with, "you're not in any harm's way, son. Relax...it's only high school." Okay, I'll relax and let people give me a horrible time. No way, folks.

Eventually, during my junior and senior years, I began lashing out at some of my classmates. I even broke the nose of a girl who sat behind me in English class when she refused to stop writing on my neck with a black Sharpie marker (the classroom teacher really didn't care what happened in the room and didn't bother to take my complaints seriously). I was branded as an angry, hateful, arrogant and entitled student who wasn't going to make anything of himself, while I was convinced I was a sensitive person who wanted a chance to shine instead of withstanding the daily ordeals I went through.

My parents were supportive, waging a war that ended (unfortunately after my graduation) with the firing of several top teachers and administrators within the district for dereliction of duty. And the experience taught me just how to react to those who enjoy fluffing up their plumage at the expense of others...get away as soon and as quickly as possible.

However, my modest amount of success in life (despite the fact that I'm now a 39-year old, unemployed bum) has eclipsed just about all of my classmates from the class of 1986. In fact, I know of only one who has a diploma beyond a master's degree. Two are dead of drug overdoses, a one or two others are in jail.

But yesterday's experience of meeting up with a high school classmate showed me that I apparently made an impact on some of them, for whatever reason. It was obvious to me that this classmate wanted to chat with me, even if I was unreceptive to his desire. And while it has me curious as to just how I'm remembered at each class reunion I avoid like the plague, I'm very happy to stay far, far away from those memories. Curiosity killed the cat. And while I'm a Rock Cat, I'm not that curious.

Be that as it may, you know what else it made me realize? I miss my dad. He believed in me, got me through all the trouble with his kind words, great advice and gentle hand. I'm trying to emulate him as I parent my son, but I'd still give anything to be able to wiggle my nose and bring him back to this life. He'd love Matthew, and I know Matthew would love him...they're a lot alike.

Nevertheless, we're running head long into summer. Summer leagues are in full swing, backyard parties are being planned, and Father's Day is right around the corner. Make sure you take some time to ensure your dad knows how much he means to you. I'm pretty sure I made that clear to my dad, and I hope he took that with him to the hereafter. But don't wait until it's too late...you'll regret it.