Month: May 2007

When we were kids Aaron and I frequently made bets, and against all odds he always seemed to win. The most ridiculous win was probably during the 1993 playoff game between the Bills and the Oilers; at halftime, with the Oilers leading by thirty-two points, I gave him twenty-to-one odds that the Bills wouldn’t win. Today that game is known as the greatest comeback in NFL history.

While the football bet was the most improbable of Aaron’s wins, it wasn’t the most lucrative. At some point we actually made a bet for a cool million: TV Guide or some other source had reported that Alyssa Milano would be taking Shannon Doherty’s role on Beverly Hills, 90210, and Aaron didn’t believe it. So sure was I of TV Guide’s accuracy that I shook his hand, and a year later when the Who’s the Boss alum still wasn’t on 90210 realized that I owed my brother a million bucks.

Since I obviously don’t have a million bucks to hand over I’ve been working off the bet over time; emphasis on working, since Aaron doesn’t spend his cash loosely. This past weekend the opportunity to earn back $50,000 came up while we were playing catch. I’m not sure when, but at some point either intentionally or not Aaron took a throw to the chest, and from his reaction it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Not wanting to be outdone I tried the same, and before long the game had (as usual) completely degenerated. During this bout of masochism the thought struck me that it would really suck to take a throw to the head, and my $50,000 plan was launched. In a moment worthy of Jackass we discovered that the sound of a baseball hitting someone’s noggin is pretty much exactly the same as the sound effect they use in cartoons. No permanent damage was done, and today my debt stands at a mere $370,000.

More than likely at some point everyone struggles with the realization that they like where they are, but they miss where they’ve been. If given the chance to go back to any point in my past I don’t think I would want to take advantage, but at the same time I miss the college days of daily runs with the team and all-nighters with my friends in the dorm, or the high school days when we all leaned on each other so heavily for support that calling someone at 2 AM or dropping everything when someone needed a person to talk to was a weekly event. Or when I was a kid in New Hampshire and the block on Summer Street was the entire world, and my mom and dad were superheroes. There were also the times just after college when the work world was a brand new adventure, and the friends that started with me all had dreams of greatness that seem to have been mostly laid aside over time.

I miss all of those times – people and places have changed since then, and it’s sometimes painful reconnecting with someone from years ago only to realize that one or both of us is different. But at the same time, while working fifty hours a week in an office may not be life-changing, these days aren’t without their charm, and the road ahead seems like a good one. Ten years ago I would have never guessed at all of the amazing things I’ve gotten to do, and the incredible people I’d meet, and one can only wonder what the next ten might bring.

Aaron and I have been hanging out together a lot lately – two weeks ago we ate an insane amount of meat at one of those Brazilian places before facing off in four games of bowling (advantage: Ryan), while tonight we went for sushi (note for next time: bring colored markers) and followed that with mini-golf and skeeball championships (advantage: Aaron).

Last Friday we made an outing to Santa Monica for a crappy Italian dinner and (surprisingly) no competitions. Anyone who has visited Santa Monica has probably been to the Third Street Promenade, which is a pedestrian-only street with tons of shops and a bunch of street performers who range in talent from singers to dancers to a disturbingly hairy bagpipe player. While I ended up giving a buck to two guys tap-dancing to hip-hop music, Aaron’s attention was drawn by a large group of folks watching a guy break-dancing. It took a while to work our way through the crowd to where we could see, but once there I recognized the guy from a night in Hollywood a while back.

“Forget about this guy” was my advice. “He’s just gonna talk about this amazing move, get everyone to clear a path, and then run backwards.”

And on cue the guy started motioning everyone to clear a path, and in a voice that carried across the Promenade the announcement came that we were a privileged crowd that was about to witness an original move, something completely amazing, and something that we would never forget: the Spaceship.

“DUDE, we’ve got to see the Spaceship.” This from Aaron.

And so it unfolded. People waited anxiously. We were told that this was a move that was straight from the streets, that it was something no one had seen before, and most importantly that we should donate generously to the talent that was about to perform the Spaceship. As a hat was passed the crowd grew, with more people gathering to see what was going on. After a couple of minutes the crowd was three or four deep, stretching for about fity yards.

And then it happened – it was time for the Spaceship. He yelled out “Are you ready?!?!”, and apparently unimpressed with the level of enthusiasm repeated his challenge. The crowd was ready, and he was ready to perform. He waved his arms. He jumped up and down. He trotted out to one end of the massive crowd, and told people to stay clear, for their own safety.

And then he ran backwards.

Someone who knows something about dancing might have seen something special; Aaron said it was cool, and I honestly can’t tell if he was kidding or not. But to me, a guy who had done some pretty cool moves earlier finished his routine by covering fifty yards of pavement backwards. And it was called the Spaceship, and he loved the Spaceship, and he loved the fact that he could perform the Spaceship. So even though I didn’t get what was going on, I was glad I saw it. It gave me something to write about in the journal, and some day when we’re much older Aaron or I may re-read this, and we’ll remember the night that we saw the Spaceship performed, and it will be a good memory.