He's The Reason I'm Like This

I get asked two questions pretty often by my friends, teammates, and the handful of people that look in occasionally on this blogsite.

What the fuck is wrong with you? And how did you get this way?

Those are actually pretty fair questions. Everyone knows that goalies are a strange breed to begin with. We step in front of hard rubber pucks flying toward our bodies at a high rate of speed. Sometimes we get hit in places that aren't protected very well, and it hurts like a bitch. But we'd rather get hurt than fish the goddamn puck out of the net. At least I would.

And I've been a goalie in one sport or another for around 37 years, so that just multiplies the level of crazy. I think it's healthy that I at least realize that there is something wrong with me. I see the world a little differently than most people. And hopefully I express that in a way that gives you a chuckle every once in awhile.

The second question is easy. I know how I got this way. I know exactly why I'm a strange little fucker. Kids, for those of you that regularly read this trash, you might notice that I sometimes reference phrases and expressions from my dad.

I've kept him in the basement long enough- I think it's time that I introduce you to Lee Sterner.

Dad turned 80 a couple of weeks ago. You know you're getting old when you can write that your dad turned 80. Shit, 80 is how old your grandparents are supposed to be. But no, my very own father is now an octogenarian. And for all you hockey players out there, that doesn't mean that he has eight arms, okay? I know that was a pretty big word-I'll try to limit those.

So my older brother Dale and I gathered up our families here in Denver, and we took the five hour trip up to Casper, Wyoming to celebrate the important milestone. There are not many things that will make me willingly drive into Wyoming, because it is a complete shithole. I can say that with some certainty because I spent quite a bit of my youth there. But this was kind of a biggie, because we were celebrating a birthday that Dale and I never thought in a million years would happen.

You see, my dad (everyone just calls him Sterner, including my brother and me) hasn't exactly been the picture of health during his 80 years on Earth. He had his first heart attack at age 27, possibly as a result of his three packs per day habit of unfiltered Pall Mall cigarettes. Or maybe it was the gallons of whiskey that he drank. Or possibly it was from eating red meat with every meal. Shit, back in the 50's and 60's, that's just what everybody did. Whatever the reason, he's had a bad ticker forever. And when you throw in losing most of his stomach to an ulcer when he was 35, and a pesky case of diabetes that was diagnosed at age 40, you can see why we're kind of surprised he's still with us.

To his credit, he stopped smoking cold turkey when he was around 40, and he controls his diabetes with diet- he doesn't have to shoot insulin anymore. But he never stopped drinking- he still throws down a bunch of Wild Turkey and Diet 7-Ups every day. It never seems to phase him, and I've never seen him wake up with a hangover. When it comes to booze, he's a force of nature.

Now that I've given you some background on his physical side, let me tell you all a little about the personality characteristics that make up my dad. And once I've finished, you should be able to better understand why I am the way I am.

Sterner is what you can conservatively call a "character". He likes everybody, and everybody likes him. He's fiercely loyal, but if you fuck him over one time, he'll hold a grudge for the rest of his life. I inherited that trait- I can hold a grudge with the best of them.

You know he likes you if he gives you shit. And if he really likes you, he'll give you no end of shit. It's kind of a guage. If he doesn't give you a hard time, that's when you know you're in trouble. And I'm exactly like that. Hell, just look at my blog when I write game stories about my Dawgs team. Luckily, I like everyone on the squad, so I'm an equal opportunity ball buster. I try to take turns, but there are a few guys, like my man Marty, that I like so much I pound on them almost every week.

And if you look up the definition of "dirty old man", you will find a picture of my dad. Over the years, I have been amazed at what he can say to a woman and get away with, all because as he puts it, "I'm all cute and cuddly and shit". Here are a few examples:

Sterner makes jerky almost every day. Even at his age, he's still an avid hunter up there (I never got the hunting gene-not real big on watching things die), so he makes it from elk, antelope, deer, goose, and the odd gopher, I think. He always takes the jerky out to his country club in Casper to share with his friends and the waitresses. It's very good- they all look forward to him bringing it out. And every time, and I mean every time, he asks the girls if they want to gnaw on his "old, dried up meat". And God bless 'em, the girls play along and laugh every time.

Then later, he'll offer one of them some more. And if they make the mistake of saying "No thanks, I just had a piece", he'll always say, "I don't care about your sex life- do you want some jerky, or not?"

One of the girls will ask, "How're you doing today, Sterner?" And he'll always say "Without. You want to go someplace and change that?" And they always just laugh, shake their head and walk away.

Last time I visited him, a lady at the club told him that she was having a foot problem. He didn't even skip a beat before he looked at her and said, "I wish I had a foot problem. Even eight inches would be nice." Again, she just laughed and called him a sick puppy. I remember saying, "Sterner, someday one of these girls is going to knock you on your ass." He once again brought out his standard line, "Nah- I'm all cute and cuddly and shit".

He just has that certain charm, where he doesn't come across like a pervert- just a funny, harmless, and loveably dirty old man. And I honest to God believe that if he wasn't married, even at 80 he could parlay that charm into getting women into bed. He is that fuckin' smooth.

I asked him one time, back in the old days when I was single, for advice on how to get with girls. He told me "Boy (he still calls me boy, even at 51), it's just a numbers game. You ask the question often enough, someone is going to say yes." I responded, "Doesn't that get you rejected a lot?" He didn't even blink before he said "Who gives a shit? Like I always say-joke 'em if they can't take a fuck."

Here's the other part. Even at 80, he's sharp as a friggin' tack. He still does taxes for people (he's a retired CPA), including mine, and there is not one sign that his mind is ever wandering. He's getting a little hard of hearing, but the marbles are still in place.

My dad has a set of expressions, I call them "Sternerisms", that he uses all the time. And I literally mean all the time. You absolutely know that when a certain situation comes up, he's going to say the same thing, like the "dried up old meat" line. Here are some of those:

Every time he sees my wife Annie, he gets real close to her and says, "I don't care who you're married to- I still like you." He's been saying the same thing to her for 16 years.

Every phone conversation I have with him, the last thing he says is "Make sure you give the kids a big hug squeeze for me". Not hug and squeeze. Hug squeeze.

Every time he sees one of my brother's sons, he says, "Hey, look! Someone shit and put a green hat on it!" That expression changes, depending on what they're wearing that day.

Every time he introduces me to someone, he says, "This is my son Allen. Well, that's not quite true. Last time I saw his real father, he was running out the back door naked. He still owes me child support." That's a real crowd pleaser, that one.

When he sees a good looking woman at the golf course or in a restaurant, he always leans over to me and says "Wouldn't you like to try that on, and see if it fits?"

When he spots a skinny girl, he'll tell me, "Boy, you know what that is? That's called a "rib cracker". When you make love, you put it in soft, then listen to her ribs crack when you get a hard-on." Yep, that's my dad, ladies and gentlemen...

And every time he sees a tall girl, he says, "You know what's great about tall girls? Nose to nose, your toes are in it, and toes to toes, your nose is in it." I'm still not quite sure what that means, but that doesn't stop him from saying it.

There are also "golf Sternerisms"- expressions that he uses during every round he plays. Here are a few of the many:

When a guy makes a putt to beat him on a hole, he says, "You know what? You're like an erect penis. You have no conscience."

He'll hit a good drive, and someone will say "Nice ball, Sterner". And he'll immediately come back with, "Yeah, it's a Titleist. That is a good ball". After about 10 times, the other players will finally say "nice...uh...shot".

When a guy hits a putt that goes way past the hole, he'll say, "Hey, look! The gorilla hit one!" Every time.

Then if he leaves a putt short, he'll say, "What wrong, Alice? Did your tits get in the way?" It's always Alice, too.

If you have to go off into the bushes to take a piss, he'll always call after you, "Come back, boy! You're not taking enough club with you!"

When I get together with Sterner and my brother, we always play Gin Rummy. It's just something that we've done forever, and it brings out what I refer to as "tender family moments". Like everything he does, Sterner's very competitive at cards (more on that in a bit). He plays every day with his buddies at the country club, and has taken home hundreds and hundreds of dollars because he's so good. So when it goes badly, there are some more things that he says every time:

"Why, you lucky, unconscious prick."

"Boy, could you take the fuckin' horseshoe out of your ass before the next game?"

"Boy, I hope your dick falls off."

To be fair, I'm just as bad. A couple of years ago when we played, I actually called my father a "fuckhole". He laughed for 10 minutes- still tells all his friends about it. That's what I mean when I talk about "tender family moments".

Yeah, the Sterner family is pretty competitive. I'd like to think that I've gotten a little better about it as time has gone by, especially the last couple of years. I'm trying to set a decent example for my kids, but there's a fine line between being too competitive and not competitive enough. I always want my kids to play to win, just don't let it consume them if they happen to lose.

There is no such line with my dad. His whole philosophy was summed up at his 80th birhday party, when he saw me wearing my Dawg Nation t-shirt. On the back, it has our team motto, which includes "be modest in victory, and gracious in defeat". He walked up to me, and said "Boy, I just read the back of your shirt. If I've told you once, I've told you a million times. Show me a good loser, and I'll show you a loser."

He means that, too. I've never known anyone that hates to lose more than he does. And here's a story from his high school days that shows just how true that is.

He played football for Lewistown High School in Montana when he was a sophomore, even though he was 5'1" and weighed about 120 pounds. One day after practice, a senior farmboy lineman that was like 6'3" and 220 came into the locker room and snapped him hard with a wet towel. Left a big old welt on his back. You could do that shit back in 1945.

Sterner wasn't about to take that lying down, but he knew there was no way he could fight the bastard. So while the senior was in the shower, Sterner set fire to the clothes in his locker. Just stuffed everything in there, and torched all his shit. Needless to say, the senior wasn't a happy boy when he got out of the shower, and proceded to beat the living piss out of my dad.

Sterner couldn't let it go. He dragged his pummeled ass out to his car, and waited for the senior to come out of the locker room. When the guy walked into the parking lot, Sterner hit the fucker with his car. Didn't break any bones, but I guess it jacked him up quite a bit.

And the best part was that Sterner got away with it. The senior was too scared to press charges, because he thought my dad was fuckin' crazy enough to hunt him down and shoot him after he got out of jail. He was probably right. And for those of you that are calling bullshit right now, I'm sure this story is true- my aunt and my uncle told me the same accounts when I was a kid. I don't doubt it one tiny bit.

So besides small stature, competitiveness, ball busting our friends and the love for dirty jokes, I got at least one other thing from my dad. We both use humor as a defense mechanism. I can't tell you how many times I've cracked a joke when I've visited a friend in the hospital, or attended a wedding, or even when I've gone to a funeral. When shit gets heavy, I bust out the one liners. Sterner's the same way. It's just what we do.

Here's the best example. Back in 1986, the space shuttle Challenger exploded after it took off. It was one of saddest moments in American history. Shit, there there were a bunch of civilians on board, including schoolteacher Christa McAuliffe. I called Sterner up at work, because I knew he was a big fan of the space program. In fact, he's the most patrotic person I know.

So I got him on the phone, and said, "Dad, did you hear about the space shuttle exploding this afternoon?" It went dead silent for about 15 seconds, but I knew he was still there. I guess he hadn't heard yet. I'll never forget what he said next.

"Boy, you know what's the best part about that? Not one of those people owed me money."

So anyway, that's my dad in a few brief paragraphs. I hope that helps explain a little bit why I am the twisted little fella that I am. Even though he's had a pretty good and productive life, I'll be absolutely the first person to admit that he's far from perfect. He drinks too much, makes way too many dirty jokes, is way too competitive, and bottles up all of his emotions.

Someday, when I grow up, I want to be just like him.