What up?

Well... hello. It's been awhile. Maybe, too long. But, probably not. Writing has always been something I had to feel. Unless it was a paper for a class or story for the newspaper in my former life as a sportswrite, writing has never been something I could force. It has always been an itch I had to scratch. No itch meant no need to scratch. So... for whatever reason, I have an itch to write again. It was been more than three years since I last posted on here. A lot has changed and a lot has stayed the same in that time. I am still a single dad with four beautiful daughters. They are now 15, 13, 11 and 9. It's crazy to think that they were just out of the toddler stage when I first started this blog. I have

On most birthdays, I am reflective. I look back on the past year and find fault in nearly everything I have done and promise not to make the same mistakes.

Not this year.

I turned 40 yesterday and it was undoubtly the best birthday I have had as an adult. Instead of reflecting, I sat back and enjoyed my day at work, enjoyed my four daughters, and had found great peace in the time that I spent with Jen.

It couldn't have gone any better. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I am truly happy. I have everything that I could possibly want at this time in my life.

Despite major budget concerns, I still have a great job. I have great kids that still drive me nuts, however, I wouldn't want it any other way. And, I have a meaningful, loving relationship with a woman who allows me to be me.

As great as all those things are, the most important aspect of my happiness falls directly on the fact that I am content and happy with myself as a person. There is no better feeling to have.

I recently ran into a friend who used to read my blog when I posted on a regular basis and he ended our conversation with a question. His question was simply, "Coach, why don't you blog anymore? You used to write all the time and I really enjoyed your shit."

Seems like an easy enough question to answer, however, I was stumped. It is isn't because I am too busy with work or being a single father. I probably have more free time than ever since I stepped down as my school's head football coach in December.

The answer came as I was driving home and it was answer that I hadn't expected. Simply put, I don't post as much now because I no longer need the affirmation that I received from the readers with their comments and emails after I finished a post.

When I started blogging, I was in a relationship with a woman that I loved dearly. However, the relationship was unfulfilling for us both as we never seemed able to find time for eachother. There were other issues, however, it came down to the simple fact that neither of us were truly getting what we wanted or needed in a relationship.

Also during the start of my blogging experience, the constant losing in football made others and myself constantly questioning my ability as a coach and left me miserable more times than not. It was ugly for me in every sense of the word, as my feelings of self-worth centered around what we did on the football field and how people thought of me as a coach.

While myself and a lot of the other people ridiculed me on a daily basis on my team's performances, people who read my blog had no problem complimenting my writing and complimenting me as a father, and with it, I felt good about myself again.

I fed off the comments and would run to the computer at all times of the day, hoping someone left me a comment. It felt good to feel good again about something I was doing.

Two years later, I don't need any one else to make me feel good about myself. All I need to do is look at the relationships I have with my kids, my students, my co-workers, and with Jen, and that is all the affirmation I need now.

If there is anything that I would like to change from yesterday to my next birthday, it is this: I want to blog again on a consistent basis. This time around, I am going to blog because I enjoy writing and I enjoyed getting to know so many of you who I would still consider friends.

Hell... this time around, you don't even have to leave me a comment.

I remember when I used to get on here and no problem writing a post. It was easy for me and I had plenty of material.

More than two years after I started a blog, finishing a post has become a fruitless endeavor. Every few days I start one, only to veer off my page and start surfing the web never to return.

Giving the bird to Mother Nature

Dear Mother Nature,

Let me to take a minute to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. You picked the day before my girls were to go back to school to blanket my Southern California desert town with snow. Thank you so much for that. I was so looking forward to driving them to school, opening the passenger door, throwing them out, and heading home for a day of quiet and doing nothing. But, no. At 8 p.m., the school called with an automated message confirming my fears that there would be no school. And, with the way California schools react to the oddity of snow, they will more than likely cancel school again Tuesday. I cannot wait to have them come in and out of the house all day long, bringing with them wet clothes, snowballs, every kid on the block, and requests for hot chocolate. Ahh, and to do it on a day that I already had off. You couldn't wait till next Monday, the first day I was to be back in the classroom. Nope, you decide to really mess with me. So, thank you. Thank you very much you selfish bitch.

Sincerely,

Coach

Finding perspective just in time

It's time to start writing again. It has been too long.

A lot has happened since I last posted with any regularity. Life changing events that I may or may not get into at a later date. What I will say is that I am glad to be back.

It has been too long.

Christmas is tomorrow and I couldn't be happier. All four of my daughters, my brother and sister-in-law, two of Jen's kids, and her sister and mother will all be at my house for dinner tonight. Jen and I no doubt will be going nuts with all the company, yet, neither of us would have it any other way.

The fact that Jen and her kids will be over is a huge victory for me. I almost lost her two months ago. Seems she could no longer handle my inability to handle coaching football in the no-win situation I was in.

I got so bad during this last football season that I alienated every one I worked for, with, and those who worked under me. And, in the process, I forgot those who were most important, my girls and Jen.

My girls never really complained. They continued to go to practice day after day with me and put up with my yelling at them for not leaving me alone while I coached. They did it in weather that ranged from hotter than hell in the late summer, to colder than shit in the early winter.

And, they have done it their whole lives while never complaining that my career has kept them from playing youth sports, taking piano lessons, or cheer leading for their schools with their friends. To them, me coaching football was what WE did as a family. But, it shouldn't be that way.

I should be the one in the stands watching them.

It took looking over at my girls during a practice in late October, bundled up and huddled together while trying to do their homework, that it was time for a change. And that change meant that Coachdad was about to be just Dad.

Ironically, a week after I made my decision to walk away from the only job I have ever wanted, Jen informed me that she would be moving out in November. I was told I allowed the job to affect me to the point that she can no longer handle being around me and that for her own sanity, she had to leave.



Thankfully, she didn't leave. I was able to convince her that the Brett that she fell in love would be back. The Brett that had perspective, that was able to put family and loved ones ahead of everything else, and the Brett that was able to make her laugh endlessly.

That Brett is still here and isn't going anywhere. And, like I said earlier, I am glad to be back.

I am sitting here staring at my computer screen wanting to punch a hole right through it. It seems it is all I do now.

Sit and stare at it and hope that words will magically appear in front of me. But, night after night, it doesn't happen. Instead, I succomb to my inability to get anything started, click off Microsoft Word, and start surfing the web.

When I started a blog in 2009, I thought I was doing it because I missed writing. I had written professionally for newspapers off and on for 12 years and and missed the rush of turning an empty screen into a 12- to 30-inch story in 30 minutes.

What have I realized over the last few months though is what I like the most

There probably aren't too many times where you will read the following sentence... but here goes:

I love my ex-wive.

And, I do.

Oh, we will never get back together and I don't have any aspirations of that happening. Just too much water under the bridge.

However, I do love her and do want her to be happy, successful, and content in her own life. I want her to have those in every aspect of her life: career, parenting, and her relationships with other men.

And, I don't want that just so my kids can grow up in a healthy, happy environment when they are at her house.

I want it because she deserves it. She deserves every bit of it.

Honestly, I didn't always feel this way about her. There were so many times over the last five years that I wanted the opposite for her.

If she was in a relationship, I hoped it failed. If she was happy about something at work, I hoped she was laid off. Quite simply, if good or bad could have happened in her life, I would have preferred that that the bad thing would be what happened.

The biggest reason why I wanted all this bad to happen to her was that I wanted her to regret asking me a for a divorce. Any opportunity for her to sit back and think, "Maybe leaving Brett wasn't the smartest thing I ever did. He wasn't all bad."

I may go to Hell for feeling that way, but if I do, I am sure there will be a whole lot of ex-wives and ex-husbands who are down below for feeling the same way.

To be honest, I don't know how I held on to all that resentment for so long. Every time we

There probably aren't too many times where you will read the following sentence... but here goes:

I love my ex-wive.

And, I do.

Oh, we will never get back together and don't have any aspirations of that happening. Just too much water under the bridge.

However, I do love her and do want her to be happy, successful, and content in her own life. I want her to have those in every aspect of her life: career, parenting, and her relationships with other men.

And, I don't want that just so my kids can grow up in a healthy, happy environment when they are at her house.

I want it because she deserves it. She deserves every bit of it.

Honestly, I didn't always feel this way about her. There were so many times over the last five years that I wanted the quite opposite for her.

If she was in a relationship, I hoped it failed. If she was happy about something at work, I hoped she was laid off. Quite simply, if good or bad could have happened in her life, I would have preferred that that the big thing would be what happened.

I feel no remorse in feeling that way and I am sure I am not alone when thinking of their ex. However,

Valentines' Day

(My post from 2009... I am poet and didn't know it. Glad to say that I am one of the ones with love in 2010.)

Those with love
Smile in the joy of having what so many of us desire
Embrace this perfect gift and remember what brought it to you
Every detail and loving gesture that lit the heart's fire
Should be continued through and through by you two

Those without love
The hope of love can be the greatest love of all
Beating inside you with what you seek out
Never compromise youself, never fall
For one day you will find love, there is no doubt

Little bro and his future wife

Girls will be boys?

There are times as a single father that I think God is looking down at me and laughing his butt off. In so many ways, he really did play a cruel joke on me.

Four girls. Four of them. Not one little boy in the whole litter.

When I found out that I was going to be a father for the first time in 1997, I continually daydreamed of playing catch with "little Brett". Day after day, me and the little guy outside laughing it up while throwing around the pigskin.

Then, after nine months of playing out this fantasy, came Kern. A beautiful, healthy, blue-eyed girl. Disappointment was non-existent as I was thrilled to be a father. Besides, I had plenty of time to have a boy.

Then, came Savannah. Followed by Shelby, And, finally, Alani. Four girls for the football coach. There would be no more trying for the elusive boy. I was done after four.

I'd like to think that I have done a pretty good job of raising girls on my own. I do as much as any man can be expected to do to allow girls to be girls. The last thing I have wanted to do was to try and raise my girls as boys by only introducing them to what would typically be classified as "boy" stuff.

I have let them apply make-up to may face, have played Barbies with them, and have watched endless amounts of fashion shows. I have even participated in a conversation with them over who would be a better a boyfriend, Troy from the High School Musical trilogy or Jackson from the Hannah Montana television show.

I picked Troy because he was the better athlete, while they picked him because he was "cuter". Whatever.

So... Sunday morning I stood in the hallway watching my girls pretty themselves up on their own while getting ready for Church. They were facing a full-length mirror on the closet door, admiring their outfits and hairdo. It was one of the cutest things I have seen as a father.

With a great sense of pride, I continued to watch while thinking that I was actually playing a role in raising girls who would one day grow into beautiful women. I finally turned around and began to walk back to my room when Alani said something that made me stop.

"Hey Vannah," she said.

"Yea?"

"Fart on my face, then I will fart on yours. OK?"

"OK."

Damn. Looks there is more work to be done.

There are times as a single father that I think God is looking down at me and laughing his butt off. In so many ways, he really did play a cruel joke on me.

Four girls. Four of them. Not one little boy in the whole litter.

When I found out that I was going to be a father for the first time in 1997, I continually daydreamed of playing catch with "little Brett. Day after day, me and the little guy outside laughing it up while throwing around the pigskin.

Then, after nine months of playing out this fantasy, came Kern. A beautiful, healthy, blue-eyed girl. Disappointment was non-existent as I was thrilled to be a father. Besides, I had plenty of time to have a boy.

Then, came Savannah. Followed by Shelby, And, finally, Alani. Four girls for the football coach. And, there would be no more trying for the elusive boy. I was done after four.

I'd like to think that I have done a pretty good job of raising girls on my own. I do as much as any man can be expected to do to allow girls to be girls. The last thing I have wanted to do was to try and raise my girls as boys by only introducing them to what would typically be classified as "boy" stuff.

I have let them apply make-up to may face, have played Barbies with them, and have watched endless amounts of fashion shows. I have even participated in a conversation with them over who would be a better a boyfriend, Troy from the High School Musical trilogy or Jackson from the Hannah Montana television show.

I picked Troy because he was the better athlete, while they picked him because he was "cuter". Whatever.

So... Sunday morning I stood in the hallway watching my girls pretty themselves up on their own while getting ready for Church. They were facing a full-length mirror on the closet door, admiring their outfits and hairdo. It was one of the cutest things I have seen as a father.

With a great sense of pride, I continued to watch while thinking that I was actually playing a role in raising girls who would one day grow into beautiful women. I finally turned around and began to walk back to my room when Alani said something that made me stop.

"Hey Vannah," she said.

"Yea?"

"Fart on my face, then I will fart on yours. OK?"

"OK."

Damn. Looks there is more work to be done.

Sitting in a bar last weekend with some of the top high school football coaches in the country, a coach with more than 100 career wins came to my table and asked me if he could sit down and talk for a few minutes. He was one of the presenters at the clinic and said he wanted to ask me a few questions.

What the hell would he want to ask me? I have won one game in the last two years. Does he want to know how to keep a head coaching job despite not winning?

"Yea Coach, ask me anything," I said.

"First, can I buy a beer or anything?"

"No, thank you. I am good."

"Well, I overheard you last night talking to some other coaches about how you lucked out that your kids were with your ex-wive this weekend allowing you to come to the clinic. My wife just left me and took my three kids. She told me she is going to fight for full custody because she doesn't think I can be a single Dad with all the responsibilities that come along with coaching.

"I don't know what to do. She is right in a way... football takes so much time. I don't know how I can do it all and yet still do what it takes to be a coach. But, I can't not be around my kids. I am seriously thinking about quitting football."

I was floored. I never imagined that this is what he wanted to talk about when he sat down next to me.

I have been exactly where he is now. Five years ago and two months after my youngest daughter was born, my ex and I officially separated. At that time, I wasn't coaching football and there was no way I could have coached at that time.

I was too heartbroken, too emotional, and too overwhelmed to do anything than survive. In a flash, my whole life was in disarray and I saw no way to overcome the state I was in.

The only thing that got me out of bed at that time was my kids. I had no choice. They needed me to function as mininmally as I was for their own survival.

Honestly, if I was given a choice of staying and raising my kids on my own or running as far away as possible, I might have chosen the latter. I'd like to be able to say that my love for my girls made me stay. But, what really made me stay was those little girls needed me to.

I remember so many nights leaving work, rushing over to their daycare of facility to pick up a four-month-old, two-year-old, and three-year-old, running to my piece of shit two-bedroom apartment (after leaving a beautiful five-bedroom, two-story house), feeding them anything remotely healthy, bathing them all, and then finally getting them to bed. That three-hour process was much harder and exhausting than the nine hours of teaching and coaching high school.

The things is, I always hated when I was complimented for being a good Dad. To me, all I was doing is what I had to do. Single mothers do it all the time and never get praise for it.

Instead of throwing kudos out to those men who remain Dads and do their share of parenting after a divorce, people should look down on men who don't do it. That is something I have no empathy for... men who turn their backs their children when their marraige falls apart.

Reliving all that, I had an answer for the Coach.

"Coach... you have to decide how important football is and how important being a dad is to you. If they both are important and are worth fighting for... then do it. My kids are at football practices, games, and team functions with me. If I am there and it is there week to be with me, then there are with me."

"You can do this Coach. You can do both. It isn't always easy, but it is better than not doing it. And, you know what? My kids love being apart of it all. They feel like they are on the team and take the losses just as hard if not harder than me. But, they wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

"Coach, this is going to sound stupid, but I have watch a million kids' movies over the last few years and one really helped me through this. You ever watch, "Finding Nemo"?

"Yea," the Coach said with a laugh.

"Remember when Dory and Nemo's Dad begin their journey looking for Nemo? Dory kept singing that song, "Just Keep Swimming". Didn't matter how far they had to go, the only way they they would get there was to keep swimming.

"Well, Coach... you may not always want to do it, but you got to keep swimming."

Enough about me

Blah, blah, blah and more blah. That's what I see every time I read something that I wrote about me and my daily goings on.

It's getting old. Like an overplayed song you can't get away from when you turn on the radio.

I am done with it. At least I am done with me or my girls always being what I write about on my blog.

No more of me rambling on about how miserable I have been over the last two weeks while going through chemotherapy, or how I just celebrated my sixth month of sobriety, or what one of my little girls may have done to make me laugh, cry, or scream.

But, I am not done with writing.

Nope. Now, I want to write about people. People that I have known for years or who I have recently met. People with stories.

I have always been a people person. And, I am often moved by what they have gone through, overcome, or simply accomplished in our little world.

During my days as a sportswriter, I was lucky enough to cover Los Angeles Dodgers' and Angels' baseball games, Kings' hockey games, the Los Angeles Lakers' games, and a Rose Bowl. Great fun and a dream come true for a someone whose life revolved around the Los Angeles sports scene.

But, what I loved most about being a sportswriter was when I wrote feature stories about local athletes.

Stories of high school athletes like the star softball player who went to bat every time hearing the same words from her deceased father who coached her whole life before being murdered. Or, the story I wrote about a football player who set state records as a running back while serving time at the only youth detention center in the country that is allowed to compete against in athletics against high schools.

Each person I encountered while writing features about them had an impact on me. In some way or another, they made me want to be a better person and while giving me perspective.

So... to prevent myself from reading more of the same blah, blah, blah stuff I always spew, I end by saying that I will post my first Facebook Feature in the next couple of days.

The Facebook Feature came to me while glancing through the many so-called friends I have on Facebook and wanting to know more about these people that I have been in contact with at some point in my life. I look forward to bringing their stories to you.

Be careful where you put your hands

Hers's a conversation I had with my doctor Monday afternoon. What your about to read made me realize that there are people more stupid than me.

Doctor: "I really think it is best if we start you on a chemotherapy right away. You have a lot more spots on your face that are cancerous and I don't want to have to keep cutting you up."

Me: "You are the doctor. I will do whatever you think is best."

Doctor: "Ok, good. You will apply the ointment every day for 30 days. Your probably going to break out all over your face and it won't be pretty. But, it will kill any cancer cells we can't see."

Me: "OK... let's do it."

Doctor: "Make sure you wash your hands after you put it on your face. I had a patient last year who had a serious problem after not washing his hands."

Me: "What happened? His hands swell up?"

Doctor: "No. He decided to play with himself a little after putting the ointment on and his scrotum swelled up. It was quite embarrassing for him to have to come back in here."

Me: "Good to know, Doc. No using the ointment when I masterbate. Got it."

To be honest, Christmas and the holiday break can't come soon enough for me. I am ready for three weeks off. Now!

The last few weeks of dealing with the loss of a dear friend and having my second surgery for skin cancer has left me yearning for days of sitting on the couch with nothing to do but write. I need to get back into it. I am suffering some serious withdrawals.

It isn't this blog that I need to get back to writing on. Don't get me wrong... I love my blog. But, I need to find my muse again on something that I have always wanted to finish.

A novel.

And, up until a month ago, I was really enjoying the fact that I had actually been making progress on it. Each day, I would spend an hour or two and everything was flowing. And, most importantly, I was beginning to really like what I saw on the screen of my laptop.

Then, life came at me and everything came to an abrupt stop. It doesn't look as if going to settle down any time soon to allow me to focus completely on my little project.

On Friday, my dermatologist took 20 stitches out of my forehead and informed that in January he would like to start me on chemotherapy treatment. Fortunately, the therapy is simply applying an ointment cream on my face. It doesn't sound nearly as bad as the typical chemotherapy that goes along with most cancers.

I can't help but laugh at the irony of me having to deal with any type of cancer while working on my novel. Cancer is at the center of my book. In fact, it is the reason behind everything that is the book.

It was in the summer of 2006 when the motivation of the book came to fruition. I didn't know it at the time that it would be the motivation for a future novel, it was me simply dealing with real life again.

Laying on hospital bed and awaiting to undergo a colonoscopy, I began to daydream about what I would do if the results of my test proved that I had colon cancer. The dream continued while I was under anestesia and it was so real, so beautiful, and so tangible.

When I was fully awake from the procedure and received the news that all was well, I couldn't stop thinking about the dream. I was glad the whole cancer scare ordeal was over, but I didn't want to lose what I saw and felt in the dream. I eventually stopped thinking about it and the thoughts of the dream were gone forever... Or, so I thought.

While struggling to come up with a post earlier this year, I stopped trying so hard and just started writing. Twenty minutes later, I had the start of my novel. I continued to work on it and I loved how everything I dreamed about came back to me so easily.

Wanting to get some feedback on what I wrote, I started a new blog and posted the first five days of a man heading out to live what he was told would be his last year of life. I have gotten some favorable and some not so favorable feedback on the early stuff.

But, what I have really found is that I like it. Most importantly, I love writing it. The whole process has been so enjoyable for me and I can't wait to get back into it once I get back into it. Does that make sense?

I don't know what will ever happen from it, and at this time, I don't really care what comes from it. I just want to continue to enjoy the process en route to finishing it.

I equate this journey to when I set out to finish my first marathon in 2002. I didn't care how fast I ran or what my time was when I completed the Los Angeles Marathon and the 26.2-mile course. I just wanted to finish it. And, I did.

That's all I want to do now. Finish it.

(In his book Stephen King On Writing, King said the worst thing to do when trying to write a book is to have people read it while it is being written. The writer gets too caught up on what the reader thinks and stops staying true to his/her story. I figured King probably knows what he is talking about, so I stopped posting entries on the other blog after five days. If you would like to read the first five days, head over to www.365todeath.blogspot.com. Start with Day 1 and work back up to Day 5.)

My rock

When it comes to my blog, my life is an open book. I write about anything from my alcoholism to the discomfort my balls have given me at times.

There really has been no limits to what I will write about on here. It is my opinion that if you can't open yourself up in your writing, then what's the point of doing it?

However, I do have my limits. And, my limits have always centered around writing about the people I am close to. I try and stay away from writing about anybody who might not want their personal life on a blog for anyone to read.

That rule is especially true when it comes to who I am dating. Until now.

Meet Jen. She is the hot chick in the picture. But more than being hot, she is my best friend, my biggest supporter, and my rock.

From picking me up in Los Angeles after I spent a night in jail to roaming the sidelines during football games, she is always there for me. And, I am there for her.

We had been close friends for four years before we started dating and it has been so natural for us to be together. There is nothing we can't say to each other and nothing we wouldn't do for each other.

I am truly blessed to have her in my life. It is so great for me to be able say that she feels just as blessed to have me.

So, there you go. You have met Jen.

I probably won't write much about her again. My rule hasn't changed.

But, I am pretty confident that as long as I am on here writing, she won't be too far away.

For the second time this year, I have lost a dear friend and coaching mentor. Coach Jim passed away Friday morning after suffering heart attack. He was 59 and a single father of three young men that I have seen grown up over the last 13 years.

Despite coaching at different schools and never working together, Coach and I developed a strong friendship that really blossomed over the last year. He retired two years ago from football, having coached his last game against my team in a game we won 42-21.

Coach and I spent many nights sitting next to each other on bar stools, having a few beers while talking football. He was a wealth of knowledge and was never apprehensive of sharing what he knew with an opposing coach.

We were two of three coaches who spent many nights together at the bar. We were like court jesters, making others at the bar laugh with our friendly banter that never seemed to stop. It was great fun among three single men who leaned on each other during rough times on and off the field.

There were no tougher time than when one of the three - Coach Bill - passed away in Febuary at 47. Coach Bill worked for me in the late '90s and then went and worked for Coach Jim before he retired in 2007.

Coach Jim and I were devistated with the loss of our friend. However, we were forced to go into survival mode as we along with the owner of the bar had to plan a memorial service for Bill. It was beatifully done and had more than 100 coaches from the area attend.

Ironically, it was just last Wednesday that Coach Jim and I were at the bar and briefly talked about it being the first Thanksgiving without Bill. Two days later, Coach Jim was gone as well.

I can only hope that the two of them are up there together now, looking down at me and cracking jokes at my expense.

Forever Coach Jim's spot at the bar

Should it stay or go?

About the biggest decsion I am going to have to make during my week off is whether or not I should shave my beard off. I stopped shaving midway through the football season after losing a bet with the team.

The season is thankfully over. So, should the beard stay or go? That is the question. Think it over and get back to me.