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I go to great lengths to avoid Williamsburg and to even further ones to explore Brooklyn Bridge Park with the boys. So when I heard the one reason I ever ventured into hipsterville was now next to the bridge, I was sold.
We had also gotten really excited for the new features at Pier 2 this season. We desperately wanted to get our rollerskate on, but they were washed out. So instead we old-schooled it with some shuffle board and bocce, free of charge.
We even managed to get mommy and her preggers belly in in the action to earn a stop back at the food carts for blackberry People's Pops, bubble tea and delicious limeade. Hey, bocce is thirsty work!
World Cup Fever in the City
Red Bulls Arena
Harrison, NJ
RED SOX NATION SPOILER ALERT: My kids might be growing up to be Red Bulls fans.
I'm so sorry Sox Nation. I tried so hard. We go to Fenway every year. They wear Dustin jerseys to school in Brooklyn and to the Bronx for games. They know that the Manning brothers are no match for Brady, Bledsoe, Eason or Grogan. They danced in the streets when the B's won the Cup. We even live five blocks from the Barclay Center where we rooted for KG and Pierce BEFORE they were Nets. They even hate the Lakers and they don't know why. But, I think I lost them on soccer. I'm sorry. Truly, I am.
It was the World Cup summer that did it. Like Newton, in Park Slope soccer is king. Kids stroll the streets in Messi and Neymar jerseys. The boys play in the fall with AYSO and in the winter and summers with Super Soccer Stars. This Cup we chose Argentina. Messi was easy to love, who doesn't like a South American team over those European moneybags (Yanks anyone?). We were heartbroken when Neymar went out before the finals. We were even sadder that Messi didn't realize his dream of winning a Cup, and had to lose out to those damn Germans.
But we couldn't go to Brazil, so what's a Sox fan to do? Head to NJ. It didn't help that we rooted for France when they won the Cup and the captain of the Red Bulls is Thiery Henry. We were doomed when Red Bull midfielder Tim Cahill tore it up for Australia. Now Bradley Wright-Philips is tearing up MLS by leading the Golden Boot race with his 17th goal (that we saw live!). But the final straw were the chants from the fans, let's go Red Bulls as the boys sung along "let's go Red Sox" and we distinctly heard others joining in. It ain't Foxboro, the Garden and it sure ain't Fenway, but at least it's in Jersey, not the Bronx!
Single A Affiliate for the New York Mets
We are back in Brooklyn; been back for three years. back in the borough where my grandparents were raised. The boys are bigger. They have new friends. Beantown is behind us, but never far from our hearts. While we don't make it to Fenway as much these days (although we did get to see Game SIX, even stayed for Papi's MVP ceremony) we still love baseball. I coach Little League for Liji (soccer for Sydney) in the Saint Francis Xavier League, a wonderful, fun-filled intro to the game of dreams for both boys. They have both decided shortstop is for them (Nomar!)
So how do you fuel the flames of baseball passion in a city known for two of our hated rivals? (Yes, we go dressed in Sox gear to Yankee stadium, old and new many times and we go to City Field each year with little league to march across the turf with thousands of little leaguers). What does a Sox fan do? We go to Single A ball with 800 of our closest PS 321 classmates.
What better way to relaunch the blog after a three year hiatus than the most family-friendly event in Brooklyn. Every seat is good (we sat four rows up from the field for $16), we got free "BC" hats (again) and besides the ridiculously long line for hotdogs, the staff is so kid-friendly it's one of the few places in New York where you can let the kids roam and get their new hats signed by the cheerleaders (I know!), Sandy the Seabird and King Henry the MC.
So come to Coney Island; catch a game, ride the new Thunderbolt, grab a hotdog at Nathan's or just chill on the beach, but make sure to check out the game at MCU field.
If ever there was a "scene" in the cross-country world, this is the place. From the outfits to the Subaru wagons in the filled, endless parking lot, who knew outdoorsy types got it on like this. We met our Aunt Kathi and her boys Ari and Nate for a little morning stroll around the loop. Our boys are in love with their middle school cousins, so as soon as we hit the snow, Sydney was off in a mad dash with Ari. They had been out of pulk sleds since they opened early at 8:30AM, so today was the day for Liji's first xcountry ski adventure.
Liji is a talker. Last night as his brother slept next to him, he spent the entire late night ride from Westwood, recapping the movie Ponyo we had just seen with our other cousins Skylar, Lexi, Roni and Jadon. Today, was no exception. He was so excited to get his skis on, but even more excited to provide a running dialogue on the form of every person that passed us by. Ten feet of skiing, ten minutes of pause and he bested Howard Cossell and the Battle of the Network Stars (featuring Wonderwoman).
Sydney had a great round with his cuz, but did crash and burn with a nasty blister at the end. We were saved by Ferns' Country Store. There is nothing a little ham and cheese with a side of bandaids that we cant fix.
For those of you following from afar, it has been a winter wonderland here in Greater Boston. This is our third snow day this season and the banks are so high, we can barely see our neighbor's house. The NY Times says it is sunny and warm in northern Canada, so thanks for the Arctic winds Canucks! We've gone Xcountry in Weston , downhill at Smuggs and sledding at Elm Bank. We decided last snow day to try a new spot.
The Walnut Hill School brings kids from all over the world to study performing arts. They must have been indoors today. Usually Kam hangs out across the street at the Loker Street playground. But, the other day as we were heading with our new sled (it has since been buried in the front yard somewhere, yes, trust me we looked through the snow for twenty minutes) to Elm Bank again, we remembered just how windy it can be. I had an image in my head of Walnut Hill and kids sledding their past winters. It was in great shape and mobbed.
This morning the snow had stopped by seven and the sun was out, so we headed back to Walnut Hill. We made the tracks. A foot of fresh snow and we carried Liji up the hill. We made our own toboggan run (see Kam on You Tube with our new Old Timey movie 8 mm app.) Ten runs later we hit our old haunt Mel's for burgers and fries and are ready for naps. Oh how I love a good snow day.
My girl is from Miami. In my late twenties I broke it off with this hottie 'cause she couldn't imagine skiing with me. I was fresh off the west coast, what did I know people? I turned in my skis for the Met, lunch at Bouley Bakery and a lot of long walks through lower Manhattan and fell in love with her anyway. But secretly I knew that with a little patience I could bring her over to the dark side.
Ten years later she smiled a little a mile into a ski at Weston. I blamed it on the sun. I thought it might have reminded her of the beach. But today it was cloudy, snowy and ten degrees and she was STILL smiling. Maybe it was the spectacular views, the stunning snow conditions? It certainly wasn't teaching her to duck walk up steep green trails. Well check her out heading downhill here on YouTube. A natural skier. What snowy icing on the proverbial wedding cake.
I've spent almost thirty years in schools as a student, teacher and now principal. But the best school I ever attended was ski school. On my week-long forays to Colorado with my dad, I got mornings with kids my age learning the mountain and moves, and afternoons with dad showing off. I loved Steamboat's Ski School. One year, my instructor (who was on telemark skis) broke a binding. Did he blink? No. He hit the moguls with one tele ski all the way down. I still aspire to his greatness.
It was hard to give up time with the boys and send them to ski school. I can teach them a lot of things, but I remembered how fun ski school was, so we gave it a shot. Smugg's Snow Sport University is serious business. We dropped Lij at Treasures for their Little Rascals program. The wonderful staff there let him play hard inside and hit the slopes hard on the outside. He ran in there without so much as a "goodbye" on day two. He came back today jabbering about pizza slices and french fries, and he wasn't talkin' lunch. Not bad for still two.
Sydney spent the day at their Discovery Dynamos and I couldn't get him out of there. I thought I'd check-in at lunch and see if he wanted to ski with his old man for a bit. "I'm going back out dad!" he swatted in passing as I sat and waited for him like the goofy kid on prom night. His teacher kindly referred to him as "my assistant instructor." Four times up the lift, and not a frown in sight. I don't know what magic pudding they feed 'em at lunch here at Smugg's, but it sure does work.
I am a ski snob. There, I admit it. Every winter my dad "dragged" me out to Colorado for the Winter Conference on Brain Research (check them out those nueroscientists singing on YouTube, really!) This may not sound sexy to you, but for me it was a week off school every year at Aspen, Vail, Keystone and my all time fav Steamboat Springs. I was so inspired by the runs, the hot tubs and (as I got older in the 80's), those hot pink ski pants that I vowed never to ski east again, and moved out there the minute I graduated college.
Given the impact that fuel costs have on flights from Beantown to the Rockies, we decided to go local this weekend. I had never been to the Northern Kingdom of Vermont, and Foodie Mommy rec'd Smugg's from a summer post. Sydney and I started our day at Sir Henry's Learning and Fun Park when the magic carpet opened. We took our chances on Mogul Mouse's Magic Lift and followed under it on Magic Learning Trail which was a perfect last run for him to get him ready for his first big day of ski school tomorrow. Lij hit the magic carpet a few times too, wheeeing all the way home.
But it was my afternoon DadBreak (thanks babe for getting this blog weekend comped and then letting me ski, you rock!), that lead me to Madonna. I found her on my sweet, new Smugg's App for my iphone. This lovely lady of a lift gave me access to some of the best double blacks in the east. The pitch was perfect, the bumps in great shape and there was actually snow covering most of them (sorry Killington, but your sheer ice excuse for moguls almost killed me in college). Four tough runs later and we hit the hot tub at our majestic two bedroom condo suite. How suite it is, this MLK weekend!
The height of sixth grade cool growing up was chasing girls on skates at the old MDC rink on Soldiers Field Road. Why not get my boys ready early? I mean, how embarrassing would it be if one of them was skating backwards and fell on his butt in front of the cutest girl in the class (ok, maybe I did that).
Sydney got out on skates early. He was still two (by three weeks people), when we put blades of steel on his feet and hobbled around the rink. Last winter we got out on our back nine, Lake Cochituate, when our cool neighbor plowed a rink off our dock. We even discovered the coolest old man walker for mini-skaters I've ever seen at Floyd Hall rink in Jersey. By the end of that session he was out on his own.
Today, with his new skates on Sydney let me drag him around for about thirty seconds. Then he decided to head out on his own. Sure, all those hard core Jr. Flyer kids were flying by him with pads and helmets, but I didn't say I want him on the hockey team people! (Although our 9th grade babysitter on the Natick Comets Girls' team is pretty cool) A few minutes later we hit the snack bar for cocoa and a pretzel. One more hard fall and we were out of there. It won't be the last knock on the head, that's for sure.
My wife is from Miami. Yes, this is a picture of my wife and I in snow pants. It was a long ten years from our first x-country ski trip till now. Last time she was trying to convince me that you can take the girl out of Miami so I would marry her. This time she credits the snow pants. I credit the 45 degree temps and crystal clear blue skies. Sydney was just happy to have somebody else to fall with.
I grew up loving Weston Ski Track. It was a ten minute car ride and always had snow. I started out on x-country at the same age Sydney did, somewhere around 2-3. Liji would not be lured into such madness, but he sure loved the pulk . He fell asleep somewhere around minute ten. Weston makes snow, which keeps them in business from December 15th till March 15th, a pretty good deal for those golfers at Leo J. Martin (it doubles as a course in the off-season... you notice I say "doubles" 'cause which is the real sport here?).
By the third hill, both mommy and Sydney alike stayed upright the entire ride down. Mommy doing her best imitation of Liji's potty-training, grinning from ear to ear. Sydney, serious in his tuck down the hill. We are off to Smuggler's Notch (this is a shameless plug as they may comp us a third night if we post about them) in a few weeks for my Hanukah present. Dare I dream that I've taken the Miami right out of that girl once and for all?
As a kid, I spent every other Thanksgiving with my pops his parents in Miami. Grandpa had a 27-foot Vega that we would take out into Biscayne Bay and if the wind was good we would hit Stiltsville by lunch and turn back for dinner. Every once and a while I would get a chance to jump over, cool off in the waves and grab the tiller for the ride back.
These days the boat is sold, Grandpa isn’t getting out on the Bay with Shake-a-Leg as much as he used to, but we’ve gotten Uncle David to get the ole fishing boat out of mothballs. Sydney caught the fishing bug this summer in Tolland, but the ocean is a whole ‘nother deal. He and David cast in and two minutes later pulled in a twelve inch black grouper (small by their standards, not Sydney’s). I pulled up a ten inch porgy, so David filleted it and threw it on his heavy tess line. Five minutes later that rod bent in half and David shouted “reel her in Sydney.”
Now David is 6’3”, 250 in his skinny jeans and he was straining. That’s when we noticed the yellow tipped fins off the shoals. He handed me the rod and that baby started running. Barracuda? Scuba diver? The bottom? One flip later and David knew we had a lemon shark and it wasn’t gonna be small. Thirty minutes of reelin’ while Sydney shuffled off to the far end of the boat to watch and David (and my new brother-in-law) spelling me and we had that six foot, sharp-teethed, beautiful creature parallel to the boat. We snapped a few shots, David cut the line and within minutes we saw another fin two hundred yards off twice as tall as our new found friend. Thank goodness I hadn’t brought Sydney’s swimsuit.
Yes, the ice cream at Kimball Farm is really worth the trip to Westford. If you already love this 'hood for Nashoba Valley, then you just decided to tie the knot. Mary Frawley aka "my work mom" who raised a couple of boys of her own is always a sure bet for recs. She has been pushin' Kimball for years and we finally made it out today with our own of towners. It was everything their exciting webpage promoted and more.
We started off with mini-golf. We're not talking any Play Bosquet stuff we hit with them in the Berkshires. We're talking hills, valleys, waterfalls and yes even two holes in a make-believe mine shaft. Then we caught some bumper boats before lunch. Sydney wasn't sure if he could handle it, but quickly decided afterward that flying solo was so the right choice.
Lunch was really no slouch either. We had the fried clams and shrimp plates. Perhaps no Woodmans of Ipswich rival, but it sure hit the spot after our "workout." That's when the real fireworks began. We hopped in the Animal Adventures tent and caught a kinkajou and petted a python. A quick beach volleyball Dadbreak and we were off to the cages. Even Kam got in the swing, taking a few cracks at slow pitch softballs for the first time in her life. She was aptly rewarded with the piece de resistance; the kiddie cup. Yeah, they're fooling you. This mound of sugary, creamy wonder is not fit for kiddies, but it sure capped a fantastic dadventure.
Kill Devil Hills, NC
Every summer is an opportunity to build my knowledge of our nation’s (and my boys) favorite pastime. This summer I’m tackling the new biography of Sandy Koufax: A Lefty's Legacy by Jane Leavy. Sandy was a kid of immigrants, a sandlot player from Brooklyn who left Lafayette, my grandparents’ high school for the big show. As we sat on the bleachers at First Flight High to watch the Daredevils, you wondered whether these boys were headed their some day too.
Despite the DH, the perfect turf and Fox broadcasting, baseball hasn’t changed much in the last fifty years. Independent summer ball teams here, like their colleagues in the Cape Cod League still give these boys a chance to hit college and get ready for the bigs. It also gives my boys a chance to learn the fundamentals of walks, strike outs and the infield fly sitting behind home for free.
The Daredevils drew a pretty decent crowd for a small park. Perhaps it was their mascot, Homer the Wild Mustang, who was willing to offer up at least ten high-fives to Elijah. Maybe it was the icee mascot who offered Sydney a chance to win a free one between innings by rolling giant dice on the field. I am pretty confident though that it was the fine bbq pork sandwiches from Pigmans’ (second night in a row baby, what luck!) Either way it was a perfect end to a perfect week with our Carolinian friends.
Today was their big day. Last Tuesday was mine. Today they dipped a toe in the splendid grass that covers Fenway. Tuesday I took the mound at the Y. Minor league kids who dreamed of this day doned their Lowell Spinner caps and made adjustments. Up until Tuesday I had been dreading/dreaming of coaching T-ball for my son some day. Today it all came together.
Was the baseball good at Futures at Fenway? Was it good at the Y with 4 and 5 year olds taking the field? Do I really need to answer either of those questions? All I know is that Sydney could ask me today why the runner stole second and the Fenway Franks tasted perfect. When my buddy Leo and I debated why stealing home on a passed ball on the fourth ball was ok, I am fairly certain Sydney at least had an inkling of what we were talking about. Maybe the guys behind us who was staying for the second game of to watch the Salem affiliate could answer us.
Sydney was willing to sit through the rain out and "watch the tarp." He even decided to shoot down the ride to our car, parked over as always by the "cheap lot" at BU so that we got get drenched. We drove home shirtless through a monsoon with class IV rapids on Route 9. It sure beat driving home from Pawtucket. If today wasn't an adventure, well hell, what is?
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