I don’t know sports. Like REALLY don’t know sports.

One of the first dates Darren took me on was an evening of Putt-Putt. There was this kid in front of us…he was maybe 10 years old and kept saying ‘I hit that outta here like Larry Walker’ and would then look at me, as if he was looking for a ‘wow’ or a ‘good job, Buddy’. Anyway, by like the 10th time he tells me his phrase ‘blah blah blah…Larry Walker..blah blah blah’ I finally say to the kiddo, ‘I’m sorry Buddy, I don’t know golf.’ This kid (and Darren) look at me like I had a second nose, his jaw drops to the floor and he doesn’t speak to me again. My 10 year old entourage was gone. Darren had to explain to me that Larry Walker was baseball and the goal in golf WAS NOT to hit the ball like that. Oh.

We could continue talking about my sports ADD and how I can’t pay attention. Seriously, I can’t do it. Darren is still fascinated by this…“how did you miss that?!?’ Darren is in charge of watching for a ball/puck/bat/glove/shoe/small woodland creature to hit me in the face. Seriously. But I think I’ll save that bit of fun trivia/embarrassment for another day.

Anyway.

Dad loved sports, he knew everything. Darren always prepped me when I called dad. I wanted to make sure I could talk about a turkey/hat trick/mulligan/brace correctly and how impressed I was with ‘the team’ in last night’s game (or was it a match? What the heck is a set?) and how great Elway and Gretzky lead the team to their Triple Crown victory while they all got buckets of Arnold Palmer’s dumped on their head.

*dude, I don’t know*

Dad and I would talk for hours about sports. Could he have just been laughing at me while I got it all wrong? Maybe, but he kept being my entourage no matter what I said. It was nice & I sure do miss it today.

What I wouldn’t give for a mulligan.