By: Jesse Rubinoff
(some of the names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent)
Sunday's have become quite the ritual in the Rubinoff household. At
the same time every Sunday, I go downstairs to the family room, take
my rightful place on the couch and watch football from 11:00am to midnight.
Throughout the day, my father Fred will take breaks from his hard-work
around the house to sit and watch the festivities with me.
Yesterday, October 17, 2011, Fred was doing his thing, putting away
the groceries, when I started laughing hysterically because the video
from the Jim Harbaugh and Jim Schwartz squabble came on the television.
It appeared at least, that Schwartz didn't take too kindly to
Harbaugh's exuberant victory celebration, and the Lions head coach
fell into a fit of rage equivalent to a fourteen-year old girl that
has just been told the Justin Bieber concert got cancelled. Fred and
I shared a good laugh. He kept asking me, “What's Schwartz' problem?
Why is he freaking out like that?” I didn't say it...but I wanted to.
“Dad, you've never acted like that before? You've never freaked out
at the opposing coach at my sporting events?”
The year was 1996. I was 7-years old playing for the Shoppers Drug
Mart T-Ball squad. I'm pretty sure it was a playoff game, but I can't
be sure. Based on the intensity of what transpired, it probably was.
A couple of players on the opposing team were wearing shorts as part
of their uniform. For those of you who have played t-ball before, you
know that is a serious faux pas. The umpire recognized the other
team's impartiality towards the dress code and issued them a stern
warning. One more infraction he said, and they would be forced to
forfeit the game.
The other team's coach, Johnny Millstrom, didn't mistake the eighteen-year
old umpire for Jerry West, and immediately accused Fred, the coach of
my team, of tattle-tailing on his team of seven-year olds. Fred, to
his credit, has held strong to this day that he said nothing to the
umpire to bring about 'Uni-Gate'. Coach Millstrom however, failed to
take Fred at his word.
Late in the game, Fred decided to make a roster move. He was going to
pinch hit for one of our players who had to leave early, in favour of
my three-year old brother Spencer. Let me be clear. Spencer was no
child phenom. He wasn't the Tiger Woods or Sidney Crosby of t-ball.
He didn't have Ed Sullivan, David Letterman or Jay Leno ranting and
raving about his special talents as a kid. He was just a three-year
old who wanted a chance to play with the big boys.
Spencer grabbed his helmet, waddled up to the plate as any three-year
old would, and got ready to give a hard whack at the ball. Not so
fast. With 'Uni-Gate' still fresh in his mind, Coach Millstrom came
storming out of the dugout towards the umpire. He protested Spencer's
involvement in the game, claiming, and rightly so, that he wasn't on
the roster. Fred, thinking Spencer posed no real offensive threat,
couldn't understand why Coach Millstrom would complain. The two met at
home plate, argued, and almost came to blows. If my memory serves me
correctly, it looked EXACTLY like the Harbaugh and Schwartz fracas.
Two grown men at each other's throats, albeit, for slightly different
reasons.
The arguing continued until the mature-beyond-his-years umpire finally
stepped in to stop the situation from turning into a UFC-style
bloodbath. He dismissed both Fred and Coach Millstrom to the parking lot,
instructing them to sit on the hoods of their cars. I don't remember
if Spencer got a chance to take his at-bat. But that's not the point.
After about ten minutes, Fred and Coach Millstrom apologized to each
other. They shook hands. Fred introduced me to Coach Millstrom's son,
and we have been best friends ever since.
Now, while the stakes may have been higher in yesterday's Lions-49ers
game, Schwartz and Harbaugh can both learn something from my father.
Apologize to each other like men. After all, as my friendship with
Coach Millstrom's son proves, you never really know what can come out of
a simple apology.
