“Be curious, not judgmental.”
Man oh man do I, as well as everyone with a soul love that scene from Ted Lasso.
It’s also amazing because it can be so simple, yet so profound at the same time.
Ted Lasso doing the Walt Whitman while throwing darts across the pond hits life just right.
Shockingly related, I was not at the Phillies/Mets streams in NYC on Saturday or Sunday.
I know Dave wanted me there.
He sent out an email basically ordering it.
I mean, I’m flattered.
He didn’t reply.
It was family related.
He knew why I’d be going dark.
Still, he decided to be judgmental, not curious.
It is what it is as this point.
Can’t really do much but take and eat the heat.
Now, the old Smitty would go get CBS out of his cage to go on a rampage.
And I applaud Dave for yet another test.
He knows exactly what he’s doing.
But I’m finally not taking the bait.
I’m not going to do what I did in the past and go off the handle.
Would that be “Better for content”?
I think trying something a little more mature works better in this case.
However, we had to head back to NYC before the NFC Championship game vs. the Eagles and Vikings.
I got it then, and I get it now.
I was signed up for that life at that time as a single, childless Blockhead in 2017.
I know I’m incredibly lucky.
It was upsetting solely because my father and I spent our finest moments at Eagles games growing up.
I’ve said it before, my Dad and I haven’t had the most lovey-dovey relationship.
Every single Brian Dawkins entry.
The NFC Championship game over Vick and the Falcons.
Pure, blissful memories.
Even the disastrous last game at The Vet where Ronde Barber took all of our lives with them.
Was it a shit game?
What a beyond hilarious core memory looking back on it.
I’m so, so sorry I missed out on that moment with you, Dad.
You too, mom.
We’ll get there.
But first, let’s watch that Ted Lasso clip again.
Cleanse that emotional palate.
The way my wife and her family have handled their whole lives has inspired me beyond belief.
Hope, faith, gratitude and love will always win in the end.
So of course the Mets and Phillies decide to meet for the first time in history this weekend.
And you know what?
I don’t regret my decision.
My wife set up my greatest weekend birthday ever.
Trivia at the exact spot we got married Fri night.
Surprise Phillies tickets Saturday.
Sunday packed with fun family stuff with the kiddos all day.
After all, the cream always rises to the top.
I fucking mean it.
Because that’s what I was for a period of time.
There was a pair of parents with their two young girls, probably around 8 and 10 years old.
They were doing their thing without a care in the world, seamlessly without fearing shit.
And after spending 40 years on this Earth frequenting hundreds of Philly sporting events, you sometimes fear shit.
You just have to.
Especially while dancing and singing the Trumpets after the first ever Mets/Phillies playoff game in South Philly.
The family was unfortunately also getting the usual, predictable shit talk that came with the territory.
Also, people were telling them to fuck off.
It was actually impressive.
I’m comfortable enough with my Phillies fandom to admit that.
And you know what happened?
The genuine smiles from those children could’ve warmed all the oceans.
I mean, think about the pageviews, baby!
But instead, my wife and I chose to be curious.
And we hopefully left a bright mark on that family for the rest of their lives.
Maybe that’s just wishful thinking for humanity.
That’s on those who refuse to be curious, just judgemental.
If that means something to you, I love you, too.
If you don’t, don’t worry about it.
Still love ya and you’ll get there, but only if that’s what you want.
It could just make this really messed up world a better place in the end.
PS - Fuck the Mets.
