Cold Case In Ellyson » police

Beware: tennis is a contact sport

admin — Fri, 08 Oct 2010 18:17:49 +0000

and if you doubt me, take a look at my face. My partner and I were playing people we didn’t know from another state, and in the second game of the match, while both of us were up at net, one of our opponents hit an overhead squarely at my face. I said overhead, not volley, meaning striking downward on the ball with force for a putaway. Well, she put it away all right. My visor and sunglasses flew off. The impact drove my glasses into my cheekbone and here, three days later, I still have an ugly cut and swollen, not-quite-black eye. Hmmm.

Earlier this week, my son showed me his side after football practice. He had been cleated and had a nasty little cut. I called him “Pierce” the rest of the week. But I get that in football. It’s a collision of arms, legs, helmets, and you never know what’s going to happen. But tennis? There’s time for pre-planning in that sport. And I feel she was sending me a message.

There’s only one other time I’ve ever been hit in the face, and that’s when I was a cop. My partner and I cornered this suspect next to a building. At 5’3″, I was the easiest door to get through. He ran me over, and in the process hit my face. But I get that in the hunt for criminals. But tennis? Really?

Why baseball is like police work

admin — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 12:55:13 +0000

That’s right – a baseball game is so similar to police work, it’s scary…Think about it – moments of routine and boredom punctuated by seconds of chaos and drama. Maybe that’s why I love the game so much; I’m willing to invest the time to share in those flashes of excitement.

I shared one of those moments yesterday with my youngest son in the backyard. He wanted to throw; we threw. He wanted popups; I gave him popups. It was all so wonderful and ordinary. I wanted him to practice hitting; I pitched little marbles at him to give him confidence. And then the bat slipped from his grasp and straight into the master bedroom window. It was all so ordinary, until then.

John Irving in the hands of the law

admin — Fri, 09 Apr 2010 13:05:17 +0000

The director of the police academy I attended was one tough hombre. He really did scare me, probably because I was so out of my element there, but he was a make you or break you kind of man. Super smart, too. Witty with a deadpan delivery. I have already told you that I love to read the classics, but occasionally I’ll get my hands on something more contemporary. Back then, I read A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving. This may be the only book I ever read where I laughed out loud at times. And the beauty of the book is it’s not a funny book. It’s Irving and his story-telling prowess. Something told me the police academy director might just like that book.

One day I got up the nerve to bring it into class. It was a thick, hard bound book. I walked up to his desk and said, “I think you might enjoy this.” He took it from me with neither a thank you nor a smile. Weeks later, with a hint of a twinkle in his eye, he said he read it. He realized I pegged him as something more than one tough hombre. Oh, and he still has my book.