Hermano de Otra Madre

  About 14 years ago, I met someone that has turned into one of my best friends.  A co-worker’s husband is usually one of those forced hang outs.  That first time might have been one of those but I honestly don’t remember.  That’s because there are so many other things to remember since that first meeting.  I do remember us playing basketball in my drive way while our wives immediately clicked inside.  We had to sort of size each other up, as men typically do.  A lot of time has passed since that day and a lot of water has gone over and under the bridge.  We’ve each had our own struggles.  We’ve each watched our families grow in numbers.  But one thing has remained constant.  No matter which way our paths have twisted, I’ve never had to question the loyalty or allegiance of Clem John Norman, CJ.

CJ is the adult equivalent to my high school pal in Old Friends.  An adult friend is different a few ways:

• Adult friends don’t necessarily have to be with each other 24/7.  
• There is a shared understanding of spousal and fatherhood responsibilities that are always ahead of all else.  
• There is a reasonable expectation of confidentiality rarely found in immaturity.
• Advice is sought after and accepted.
• The best ones will fight to the death with you.  

Most of that simply comes from maturity, generally considered growing up.  But when you find that awesome friend, being grown up doesn’t always have to be the standard.  That’s one of the biggest differences in my normal friends and my best friends.  I am able to be my 17 year old self with my best friends and they know that it’s just who I am.  At the same time, they know I can be professional, respectful and well mannered, just as you would expect and old fuddy-dud approaching 40 to be.  It’s the best of both worlds; being your normal age but not being afraid to fall back into adolescence at a moments notice.  A recent text conversation CJ and I had about our upcoming kickball season perfectly sums all of that up.  But back to that confidentiality thing, you’ll just have to take my word for it.  But at one point I actually texted the fact that our even having the discussion was pretty surreal.  And yes, I did say kickball. 

 We have played many organized sports together; predominantly softball but also basketball, flag football, golf and the aforementioned kickball.  Throw in Cornhole, horseshoes, cards and video games and we have covered the competitive sector of friendship.  I’ll save kickball for last because it is the most impressive highlight on our resume.  But first, softball was our sport.  We played for some really good teams but some atrocious squads as well.  Our start was with Life Christian and we made a solid run for a few years and really enjoyed playing.  We hit a rough patch after that with Historymakers II (I wasn’t good enough for the original HM squad), Simon Sez, Bounty Hunters and Thunder Stix.  But the enjoyment remained and we have memories from those teams that we still laugh about today.  The tag line for Historymakers was “We aim to make history.”  We did if 0-10 was a first at Gordon.  Simon Sez gave us the great “run like you stole something” line.  And that’s really about it.  Bounty Hunters gave us Boot Straps.

 One of my most vivid softball memories before the Sticks came from Thunder Stix.  Never mind that the name and jerseys were equally atrocious.  One evening, we were having a particularly grueling night as we were playing neck and neck with the league’s #1 team.  One of our players decided that our half of the inning would be a fine time to take a bathroom break.  What he didn’t realize was that he was actually the 2nd batter up in the inning.  CJ was the 3rd.  After waiting awkwardly for our teammate to emerge from the can, CJ had enough and stepped up to the plate, resulting in the player being out.  This did not sit well with said player as he sprinted from the bathroom.  He was alone in his anger though.  The game remained tight and we lost by a thin margin.  A margin thin enough to cause said player to deduce an ill conceived notion that his non at bat made the difference.  He and CJ had a stare down in the handshake line and I stepped between them to bring CJ to the dugout.  I’m not sure what would’ve happened had they actually gone at it because they were both bigger than me but in that moment, my instinct was to get CJ out of the situation before that happened.  It’s the sort of moment that makes you think about how you react in the moment vs your usual nature, which hammered home our friendship.  It could’ve ended very poorly for me. 

 We spent a couple of seasons playing city league basketball as well.  We played with a great group of guys and I was in a lot better shape then.  We usually wound up guarding each other in scrimmages and had very similar game.  CJ had more of an itchy finger from beyond the arc but our percentages probably evened out.  One basketball memory I have is actually a regret.  I had always heard about CJ and Tabb playing basketball on Doles Road.  There was a basketball court on the side of the road and was home to where both of them spent some of their childhood.  I finally took a trip with CJ to Doles and about 5 minutes into the first game, fell victim to one of the home court advantages, the 5 inch curb used as a baseline.  I’m pretty sure I had, at minimum, a hairline fracture and still think of that day when my ankle bothers me.  My ankle had swollen up and forced me to take off my shoe before we hit the end of Doles.  After hearing all the talk, I spent a total of 5 minutes playing ball.  Never went back. 

 Although the other sports have been filled with ups and downs, nobody has been able to touch us in kickball so far.  We played 3 seasons in city league and recently played an exhibition against a current league team and we sit at a pristine 31-0 with 3 championships and a Ric Flair Quoted T Shirt to prove it.  We have made more enemies on the kickball field than we ever made playing softball.  Not because of attitude or anything but losing at a kids game tends to bring out the worst in competition.  To be clear, we are about to embark on another season and we may very well go 0-10, you never know.  It’s part of the reason we’ve waited so long to come out of retirement.  But right now, as I type this, we have not been beaten on the kickball field.  Out most recent game was a scrimmage against a league team to see if we “still had it” and to test out our new roster.  We traveled across town, to their home field and beat them 8-4.  They had jersey’s and a Pregame warmup.  We spent Pregame joking about Ashley’s dill pickle and bacon sunflower seeds.  Kickball, legends I tell you. 

 Besides sports, we have tons of other memories and common interests.  We spend time on the creek in the summer, we both like Dr Pepper and bourbon, we enjoy the grill and we both have all women in our houses.  We have a Halloween tradition of trick or treating, we spend Alicia’s birthday kayaking and camping and enjoy immature, crass movies.  “I don’t want a large Farva, I want a _______ liter of cola.”  We have a lot in common and are a lot alike but also have our differences.  We’ve spent considerable stretches of time not talking to each other, not because of those differences but because of life.  We both have demanding jobs and family responsibilities.  But the thing about our friendship is that I always know that he is only a call or text away. I’ve spoken before about my small circle.  There’s no doubt that he is well entrenched and I know he would be there at the drop of a hat if I needed him.  The same goes for me.   

 CJ loves his family, takes care of his girls, works hard, plays hard and enjoys time with his friends.  That’s what I try to do and that’s what has made our friendship stand up over time.  We don’t get wrapped up in petty differences or one up each other or get our feelings hurt when other important things are going on in our lives.  What more could you ask for in a friend, a brother?  It should go without saying that I love Michele, Cass, Annah and Eden too.  But that is all made possible by the respect and admiration I have for the man of their house, Clemmie Johnny.  Much love bro! 

 Nacho: “Chancho! I need to borrow some sweats.”

Chancho: “Are you leaving us?”

Nacho: “No, Chancho, I would never leave you. I just need to borrow some sweats.”
Joey