Through it all, Mom was there every step of the way. Driving me to practice and to games for
twelve years. Cheering for me when I led
my 3rd grade T-Bird team averaging 4 points per game, up to when I was lucky getting 4
minutes of playing time per game on the high school varsity. Dad was there supporting me as well, but in a
different way: In an analytical,
constructive way--in a way where I use that perspective as a coach today. But Mom, she was my stability, the one I
could always count on as my number one fan, whether it was with a ride when I
needed one or by collecting write-ups from the sports page when my name was in
it. Or by not making an issue over my late night drunkenness the night I quit
the varsity team my senior year, when under any other circumstance I would have
been severely punished and grounded "indefinitely".
At 46 now, nothing has changed.
She's still my #1 fan, even if she doesn't like me as much now that I'm
a loud and temperamental coach, and not that quiet and shy six year playing
Biddy Basketball.
Ever since I first saw Bruce Springsteen's video, "Brilliant Disguise", and later confiscated my sister Linda's Springsteen Live '75-'85 album when I was 21, my second passion began. I became hooked on Bruce's music. Obsessively hooked on it in a way that really, only fellow Springsteen fans can understand. To explain to a non-fan, or a casual fan, the emotional depth and personal influence of his music and storytelling, is like explaining to a Yankee fan how awesome the 2004 season felt to a multi-generational Red Sox fan. It's beyond words; it's just an indescribable myriad of feelings that stirs the heart, mind, and soul when entering the world of Springsteen songs.
Since he was a teenager, Bruce has written a
bunch of songs that were either directly about his father, or were influenced
by his father. Some showed him in a
positive light, others not so much. It
was easy for him, Bruce would say, writing about his father, because that's where
a lot of what you learn about life, as a son, comes from, for better or
worse. As a son, your dad is your
biggest influence. Moms, on the other hand, not so
much. Not as much anyway. Moms are the stabilizing
force behind the family unit. The ones
that often do the most in making the family feel secure; feel loved. They're the real backbone that keeps the
family together, and are often taken for granted and under appreciated for
everything they do.
Several years back, Bruce wrote
his first and only song about his mother.
"Probably the most autobiographical song I've ever written" he
would say. The
Wish starts out describing a
young boy admiring a guitar through a music store window with his mother by his
side. Next, the singer sings: "That night on top of that Christmas
tree shines one beautiful star / And lying underneath, a brand new Japanese
guitar". (In my analytical
opinion) Bruce uses the star
of Bethlehem as a metaphor for the gift of the guitar underneath his Christmas tree. As the star of Bethlehem symbolized the birth
of Jesus, and the rebirth of mankind 2000 years ago, the star above
his new guitar, his "wish", symbolizes the birth of his music
career. Later he sings: "And it's a funny old world, Ma, where
a little boy's wishes come true".
Bruce and mom Adele
When I first heard this
song, I of course heard Bruce tell the story of him and his mom and pictured the whole scene, with Bruce as a boy and his mom Adele standing right there outside that music store. But I also
personalized it for myself, and every time I hear it, it brings to mind the wish my mom gave to me.
It was December, 1972, and against my will and vehement protests, (my best friend didn't have to go), Mom took me down to the old high school
and signed me up to play Biddy Basketball.
I was so mad at her! I think I
pouted that whole first day. But
whatever her reason was, whether it was to get me away from a houseful of
girls, get me involved in sports or with a whole new group of boys, I don't
know. But after it took me a couple of
weeks to get used to playing Biddy Basketball, it became the love of my life. I didn't know it at the time, and I'm sure
Mom didn't either, but that was my "wish" come true--Mom introducing
me to basketball.
In the song, Bruce sings of wanting to repay his Ma with a wish of her own. He sings: "It ain't no phone call on Sunday, flowers, or a Mother's Day card,..(or) a house on the hill". My gift to my mom on Mother's Day isn't any one of these things either--definitely not a new house on the hill (sorry about that, Mom). Bruce's gift turns out to be this song he wrote to his mother. My mom definitely knows that I can't sing, and outside of an essay hear or there, knows I'm not much of a writer, certainly not a song writer. But my gift to my mom on Mother's Day is just letting her know that I have always appreciated, more than she knows, her making me go to basketball when I was six years old. Now, unlike Springsteen says in the song about "what that guitar bought us", my basketball career has bought us absolutely no financial reward at all. Nothing--nada--zilch! But what basketball has brought me ("the other things it's brought")--life lessons of integrity, discipline, character, competition, and the friendships of hundreds of other players and coaches, is priceless to me. And it's because of what Mom did forty years ago.
Bruce had his influences: Elvis, The Beatles, Bob Dylan. I've had my own: Rick Barry, Steve Alford, Bob Knight. But both of us would have never gotten started doing what we love to do most, if not for our moms. Thanks, Mom, and Happy Mother's Day.
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Awesome tribute to your dear Mother, John
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