Guy Talk

My father called the other day and asked me how I was feelingand if everything was OK. I told him sure, why not. Then he told mehe read about a 58 to 10 murdering down in Lubbock.

First, you must excuse my father. He still thinks Milli Vanilliis a kind of ice cream. Second, up in Illinois (the “s”is silent, moron), all my dad does is wait until the score of theSMU game flashes across the bottom of the screen, then he calls meto keep me updated. It is almost like he thinks he is in Dallas andI’m in Delaware without access to a television.

I told my father not to worry. Firstgame jitters, no big deal.But like that rash on my inner thigh, he just would not go away. Heasked me how a 3 to 3 game at the end of the first quarter ended ina 48-point differential. I asked him why a marriage with three kidsdidn’t end when my mom turned 48.

Then I reminded my father that Doak Walker once walked the hallsof this university, and it would not be long until the nationalprestige was once again restored to our football program.

Pops answered quickly by offering to send me an autographedpicture of the one and only Mr. Rogers. The old man from PBS is theonly claim to fame my father has from his days at Saint VincentCollege. The little school just outside of Pittsburgh couldprobably be mistaken for a retirement home.

To let you in on a little side note, my dad gets mad when I pokefun at where he went to school. So I quickly changed subjects andasked how his hair loss was coming. As witty as my father is, hewas quick to point out that the hair loss is genetic, and onceagain we were deadlocked.

I could have made fun of the fact that when we lived on a farmin Ohio, he was run over by a steer and had to have back surgery. Icould have pointed out that he will soon turn 60.

But I had to go bigger, dig deep.

All of the sudden I heard my chance in the background. Mymother’s voice rang out. I had my dad put my mother on thephone.

In my house, not only does Ma wear the pants, she tells my dadwhen he can put his on. I new that if I could get her on my side, Iwould once again rise victorious over my old man.

My mother has two slight problems with her hearing. The firstproblem is that she can’t. The second problem is she thinksshe still can. If you said to my mom, “Hello, Mrs. Bellaver,how are you,” she would probably think you said,”Hello, Missy Elliott, like Kung Fu.” No joke.

However, there are a couple of words in the English language mymother is still able to detect. One of them is the word”fat” and the other is “bitch.” The twotogether can be the ultimate dagger.

I knew at that moment what it was going to take.

My mother asked me if I was OK and if I was still eatinghealthy. Sometimes I think she thinks I’m attending school inSomalia.

Don’t get we wrong; I’m glad my mother cares for me,but sometimes she crosses the line. She called on Sept. 11 to askif I was hurt. I told her that I was lucky none of the debris hadflown 1,500 miles and landed in Dallas.

Then I went for the jugular.

It happened to leak out that my dad had mentioned on the phoneearlier that my mother was gaining weight and had been in a bitchymood lately.

I remind you that none of these statements were true, but I wasleft with no other choice. That is when it hit the fan. The phonedropped and there was silence. Which means that my mother was nowgiving my father the “look.” In some countries the”look” could be considered a weapon of massdestruction.

Growing up in my house, I would rather have been run over by thelawn mower twice than get the “look.”

My mother came back on the phone and said that she had to go andshe told me to be safe and have a nice weekend. Those are codewords for “I would rather be swearing up a storm right now,but I’m going to pretend to be happy.”

Then she hung up. Game. Set. Match.

Dad, you didn’t even stand a chance. If you want to talksmack about the boys on the Hilltop, you have to go through mefirst to get there. The Ponies will rise again, and when they do,there won’t be any room on the bandwagon for you. Oh yeah,how does the couch feel these days? Sucker.