What's Tommy's got to do with anything

I love my dad. Hopefully just like every other son does, I love him more today than yesterday. Now that I am an adult I am just not very good at conveying that feeling towards him like I should. I somehow get filled with anxiety when he calls or we are around each other. He is a little crazy, in a good unique dad way but crazy nonetheless. He can ask me the same question three times in the span of an hour, then change up the delivery and it's good for another couple go arounds. I worry about my pop more and more lately that it's not just the memory fading but other things upstairs are going away too. But that's not why we're here at all, please read on.

My father and I had a special bond that is shared by many around the world. Sports. I think that my mother resented the fact that it was a happy place the two of us could venture off to anytime we wanted. Soccer, baseball, hockey, it didn't matter what sport to us then and it still lasts to this day. Learning how to turn two in my upstairs bedroom at 10 pm (while mom is downstairs underneath us trying to sleep), talking ball distribution (I played center mid-fielder) at the dinner table or speaking with amazement at Gretzky's incredible performances that year, we always had sports to bring us together.

Jennifer told me the other day how sad she was that college football was over... "Wow, really" I said with surprise. "Yes, that means some new sport will be starting soon that you will be all excited about and I will have to suffer through". What a jokester but at the same time yikes, I have definitely filed that one away in the memory bank. What she doesn't know is that I am actually quite tame for a sports enthusiast. NOTE: I did not say "fan" which we all know stands for fanatic. You know zealot, nut-so, crazy person, OCD, etc. etc. Sheesh I have friends that sit in their underpants all day eating Friday's leftovers with the curtains drawn, screaming 8 hours straight at the TV both days of the weekend during the NFL season. Heck you can't even talk to my boy Reggie 'til Tuesday afternoon if the 49'ers lose on Sunday. She really has no idea how bad men can be with sports. I like to think of myself as a Medium-Well on the scale of sports guys. It's not my fault I grew up playing high level athletics and like virtually every sport known to man, lol. Not that you can blame her growing up in a house with no TV past the age of 12, a mom born in Korea and a dad who thinks a hat-trick is performed by clowns and a bunt is a funny shaped cake.

Sorry I digress. Tonight while on my way home late from teaching my AWANA kids I had a craving for Tommy's. Ya, I am on the Wienerschnitzel "chili dog diet" but I thought the switch in carbs and fat would do me some good. Anyways, I pulled through the drive-thru and opened up one of the burgers, smelled the chili and onions and was strangely overwhelmed with emotions. Happy memories of sports, my dad and exiting the 101 freeway at Rampart all came flooding back to me.

Let me explain a little more in-depth here. The Rampart exit in Los Angeles off the 101 freeway is one of the most rough and tumble areas around the LA area. Sure Compton and South Central and all that gangsta hip-hop stuff are crazy too but for a 7 year old kid back in the day it was the roughest neighborhood I had ever stepped foot into. At the corner of Rampart and Beverly stands the Original Tommy's Burger. Complete with bars on the windows to lock the staff inside. You see Tommy, the founder, used to get his employees on work furlough from L.A. County Jail! So anyhoo, my dad being the fine connoisseur of all good places to eat in SoCal would take me before or after our sporting adventures to get an Original Tommy's and it was special since that was the only one around. Now I know the chili can be used as a substitute for brick mortar and there is enough grease to lube up a lathe but I can't remember anything tasting so good as a kid. It is easy to see now that there was something extra special about them... the joy my dad got from taking me there.

The whole experience of the times we spent talking while standing up against the counters outside, sitting on the low concrete walls watching the police cars roll into the station around the corner and talking about the Dodger game we just attended was priceless. Thank you for the great memories pop.

Yup, that Tommy's burger tonight smelled like it was cooked right in heaven's kitchen but it didn't taste nearly as good as they did those days with dad.