Idolizing Patrick Ewing

When I was a young boy I used to do things that I get embarrassed about. I know everybody at some point in their childhood did something or said something that they wish they hadn't done. Not that we necessarily acted or said anything offensive but more of pure embarrassment. When I look back at my life and think about everything that I did I think that I should be embarrassed to hang out with myself. Now that I am a parent though I know that the time will come when my children do something that is truly pure and expected of children. That's the beauty of children, the innocence and care free lifestyle. During the pre adolescent years kids never worry about perception or attempting to be cool in every facet of life. I never realized this as a boy and wish that life could be that simple once again. Everybody does and that is one of the reasons why every parent is so supportive and encouraging of their children. You think back to your childhood and first wonder how time has slipped you by so quickly then relive parts of your childhood through your children. At least I do. I know when Jadon gets older his Christmas and birthday presents will be gifts I wish I had, or things that I had and truly loved; embracing the time with him and at the same time passing part of my childhood through to him. I also know with Hailey, Celia will do the same thing with her. While it sounds so little it's definitely worth looking forward too. However, with all of that being said I still did things as a child I wish I could take back. I can only wish that my dad had kept a running diary of some of the things I did and said during my elementary years documenting just how "silly" I was. Now since I can't not travel back and change certain events what I can do is tell about them.

As a child I could be described as what one might call a dork. Who am I kidding, I'm 27 years old and still a nerd. When in the company of myself I still pick my nose, sniff my own farts, talk to myself, and bite my toe nails just to name a few. You know what, I'm comfortable with that. I can admit it and not worry about what anybody else thinks, I don't have to worry, that's my wife's job. Everything I just stated though is fine because it is the traditional embarrassing part of life that everybody does; well maybe everything but biting toe nails. The thing I used to do so masterfully was subject others to my moments of "uniqueness."

Now from like 1^st grade to 6^th grade I read a magazine called Sports Illustrated For Kids. Yes 6^th grade, which would have made me 12 and well into the era of trying to be cool. Certain parts of childhood were harder than others to let go, mine was SI for Kids. I read the magazine for one reason in particular. Every so often they would have a featured sports player, a brief biography given along with some "cool" facts regarding the star. Obviously I was easily influenced and no matter who was featured that person became my favorite player of that sport until the next guy came along. So I grew up thinking that people like Patrick Ewing were my hero. What contribution to humanity did he make and what else did I really know about him other than his "biography" listed in Sports Illustrated for Kids? I wasn't even a Knicks fan, I was a Bulls fan. I should have hated Patrick Ewing with a passion. At that time I was unable to understand the dynamics of a rivalry and SI for Kids failed to put Michael Jordan as the featured player which prompted my loyalty to be shifted out east. Here comes the best part, an address was given for you to write Patrick Ewing. So a young Andrew Romick hopped right on that wagon and did just that, I wrote my hero a letter.

Now I wasn't the smartest kid and wrote like all boys do so you can just imagine how the letter looked, hell, it wouldn't surprise me if I wrote the letter crayons. I also inserted one of his sports cards with a request for a personal autograph and gave my phone number away to Patrick Ewing, thinking the letter was going directly to him. See, the innocence of a child once again. At the end of my letter I wrote, "Please call me at 1-259-2287" that was before area codes were part of the phone number. To this day I still do not know what we would talk about. Maybe his highlights I saw on Sportcenter or for him to be on my basketball team during recess; it really is wide open.

We have now come full circle. I was so cute and special (translation being a nerd and uncool) that everytime the phone rang, I sprinted to answer it. I was thinking that Patrick Ewing, my hero, was on the other end. I remember one time I was in our living room when the phone rang and my dad answered it. I jumped up, sprinted into the kitchen, and asked him if it was Patrick Ewing. He looked very confused, eyeballing me and replied, "Umm. No son."