The Sock Story

I walked up the middle of the driveway. There were no cars in my way. I opened our front door and walked into a cool, empty house. My softball uniform was folded at the bottom of the stairs. A note from my mom sat on top of the yellow and white pile. "You are missing 1 yellow stirrup. Look in your room. Good luck. Love, Mom." I rolled my eyes. I had planned on watching an episode of Alf before my game. What good is a mom if she can't stick around until she finds 1 yellow stirrup.

I slowly walked up the stairs to my room trying to think of how I could get someone to buy me a new set of yellow stirrups. The missing one was probably in my room but even my mom knew there was no hope in finding it in the pile of clothes and toys I called my room. Instead of turning left at the top of the stairs, I turned right and opened the door to my parents' room.

I picked up the phone and dialed. "Ted Fogliani's office," the voice said. "Hi, it's Jennie," I said. The tone of Kathy's voice immediately changed from paralegal to preschool teacher. "Oh, hi, Jennie. Your mom isn't here. She has her needlepoint class this afternoon."

"I know," I said. I never would made this call if I'd thought there was the slightest chance my mom was there. "Can I talk to my Dad?"

"He's in a meeting with a client. Pretty busy today. Is it important?"

"Very important," I said.

"Hi Honey," My dad said after rushing away from a furious client to take my call.

"I need new stirrups," I said getting right to the point.

"Stirrups?" He said without a hint of irritation. "For your game?" He asked as though my game schedule was tattooed on his arm.

"Yes. Yellow ones. And the coach will be here at 4:30 to pick me up so I need them before then." My dad had clients lined up until 5:00 so he could be at my 5:30 game on time.

"No problem. Medium, right?"

"Yes. Thanks. Don't forget, 4:30." And I hung up the phone. Now I had plenty of time to watch Alf before my coach picked me up.

At 4:20 I started to get nervous and went outside to wait. I sat on the brick wall in front of our neighbor's house and prayed my dad would get there before my coach. I stared down at my two plain white socks. I didn't even bring the one yellow stirrup. There was no way I was going to look stupid wearing one yellow stirrup. Even if I was on the worst team in the league.

At least I could pretend like I was waiting until I got to the game to put on my stirrups. My team would understand. We all hated the stirrups. The teams from other leagues had the brand new softball socks. White with a colored stripe down the side. Those would be a dream come true. No stirrups to look for on game days. Just socks with yellow stripes down the side.

My coach honked. I was too busy day dreaming to notice his car parked in front of me. Oh no. I thought. He was looking at my white socks. Suddenly I saw my Dad's blue Mercedes racing around the corner. He pulled up next to my coach. He jumped out of the car. "Here you go!" He said with naive excitement in his voice. "Brand new socks. Hot of the presses." And gave me a good luck hug.

"Socks?" I screeched with an obnoxious tone only a bratty ten year old could reach. "I needed STIRRUPS!" My coach looked away uncomfortably.

"Just look inside," He said with even more naive excitement. I reached in the plastic bag and pulled out a pair of white socks with yellow stripes down the side. Medium.

"These are not what I asked for. These are NOT what everyone else on my team wears. I can't wear these." I put the socks in the bag and held it away from me.

"These are the only ones they had at the store," My dad said still without the slightest hint of irritation.

"Wow. Look at those," My coach said trying to ease the tension.

"I just won't wear anything. I won't play," I said walking to my coach's car.

"I will get you the right ones," he said. "I will find the right ones and meet you at the game." My dad took the bag from me and ran back to the car. He didn't stop to explain that he had angry clients at the office or a secretary on the verge of quitting. He was too busy pleasing me, a bratty ten year old with no appreciation for the trouble he went through on her behalf.

My coach and I drove to the game. He kept telling me he probably had an extra set or that one of the girls who wasn't playing could let me wear hers. We could switch every inning. I just stared out the window and thought about why my dad never just did what I asked him to do.

I got to the game and everyone asked me where my stirrups were. I just kept throwing the ball harder and harder to my throwing partner. I pretended the ball was my dad's head during batting practice. Wham. Wham. Wham. I was going to break the little league homerun record today.

My team huddled up to do a cheer before the game started. While we debated whether to say "Gooooooo Lions" or "Go Liiiiiiiions" I heard the familiar sound of my Dad's horn. Over. And Over. And Over.

I wandered away from the huddle and stared at my dad through the pentagons of the chain link fence. He parked the car in a handicap spot in front of our dugout. He opened the door and jumped out of the car holding up two plastic bags filled to the top with socks. White socks with yellow stripes. In every size.

He ran over to the dugout and handed a pair of socks to every player on the team. Everyone was laughing and screaming and telling me I had the best dad in the world. We all walked to our positions on the softball field in gleaming white socks with fresh yellow stripes. The other team looked down at their faded blue stirrups. As far as the Blue Jays were concerned, the game had already been played and lost. The Lions, the only team in the Sunnyslope League wearing socks with colored stripes, was the best team in the league. Even if our record was 0-9.

I remember crouching behind home plate that game and looking down at the yellow stripes through my cather's mask. I remember thinking that my dad was the best dad in the world.

It would take years of growth and years of similar experiences with my dad for me to realize he wasn't the greatest dad in the world for showing up with bags of socks for the entire team. He was the greatest dad in the world for always taking my calls and stopping at nothing to make me happy. Maybe he should have told me he had meetings and couldn't help me that day. He probably should have shoved the white socks with yellow stripes down my throat when I threw a fit in front of my coach. And he could have reminded me of the clients he left and the work he had to get done.

But my dad doesn't have time for that. He is too busy trying to be the greatest dad in the world. And fortunately, for the Sunnyslope Lions' sake and especially for my sake, he hasn't yet realized that he already is.