Hey! Ho!

My need to bring the football atmosphere to the dance competitions is beginning to overwhelm me. I'm not sure I'll be able to contain my need to be extremely competitive and hateful much longer. I watch these things and get all fueled up like I need to yell at the judges as if they were referee's and boo them. Problem is that its for all little girls. And when I say little, I mean elementary and up.

You all need to understand something; I have three...count them, THREE daughters. I love each of them more than life itself. I would catch a grenade for them and blah, blah, blah. One problem. I. Love. Sports. I don't have the privilege of having a boy to teach the In's and outs to football to, whoop with a belt and shoot guns with. I always said that I wouldn't let my girls be little sissy's. I just figured that I would make tom-boys out of all of them, teach them to be mean and dominate every thing in which their involved. Well not so fast.

I don't take it easy on them, but their my babies. I can't bust their heads and give them wedgies and such. Instead, each one of them tug on my heart strings. This in turn has changed me as a man. I cry now. Like a freakin sap. I don't "Ugly Cry" but I'll "tear up watching a Capital One Credit Card commercial" cry. Watching them dance is a very proud moment for me. And their teacher always picks some sappy song that makes it worse. All the moms that are there reply with a collective "Awwww" and I just tear up. Bad. I know.

I catch shit from all the guys around me. It doesn't bother me too much cause I believe that I can still whip a heartless man's ass any day of the week! The birth of my girls allowed me to feel emotions I guess, unlike some of the bland, old, 'made from cardboard' pricks I know. I'm pretty sure it's because of my deep love for each of them that I weep like I do. I cried when each of them were born, and I'll cry when each of them get married. Problem is that I combat this by being one cranky son of a bitch.

Al, Em and Tracy

My youngest and oldest are in dance. For those that don't know what I'm talking about, it's Tutu's and tap shoes stuff. Lots of make-up and hair spray. My middle one is the soccer player. The only competitive sport that I still have the privilege of yelling and screaming at while still staying somewhat blended in (somewhat..). I get pretty involved in these soccer games and get way too fired up at the dumb ass refs that control the games. For the most part their good help, but as usual, there's always the ONE idiot that needs called out and let me tell ya, I'm just the man to do it. Some people frown at me for getting loud and think I'm embarrassing, but they can kiss my ass. We pay damn good money to travel to tournaments just to have some asshole screw my baby's team outta contention because of his incompetence. That's soccer and that's my overwhelming need to be competitive. I'll likely drive Mad right out of wanting to play soccer because of my desire to follow her into collegiate sports. My god the sports euphoria that would bring me..! Guess we'll have to wait and see.

Mad - The Soccer Genius

But it's at the dance competitions that things are on the verge of getting ugly. I sit around listening to these dance moms talk and I dare not interrupt. They have my passion for sports except my football is their dance. They gossip exactly the way I remember they did in school. They - are - scary. If it were allowed, I think they would have cat fights during intermission and place cash bets on who's kid could beat who's at break dancing on the cardboard in the back hallway. But its apparently frowned on, so they just stay to their respective groups and talk quietly about dance and their kids. It's intimidating to me, so I just shut up and listen.

My kids dance studio is like a big sorority of dance moms. It's almost as if no outsiders are allowed in their seating areas. You can tell these groups by their outfits. Each company has their respective 'gang' colors. If your not wearing their colors, you'll stick out like a sore thumb. Hell, they even make me and P wear shirts that are apparently CAA (Clan Approved Apparel) that say "Security". The women say that its so we can walk around and tell people not to use camera's or video equipment, but P and I are pretty sure its to confiscate knives and bats from the other gangs attempting to disrupt their gatherings.


ATD Recieves the Spirit Award - (Note the Gang Colors)



The Things I'll Do...

So as I sit and stay to myself, I have to pay attention to all the dance numbers, classes, use of props, ages, etc, etc, so that when it comes time for awards I know who my 'team' is up against. If your a new-comer to dance, it's a lot like trying to learn the rules to Rugby when all you have ever watched is the NFL. Confusing as all hell... Anyway, I'll pay attention as much as I can and when it comes time to hand out awards I'm all ears. Not just for the awards, but because anytime our company wins or competes in a dance, I've been designated the official "make a scene" guy.

I'm one of just a handful of dads that attend these events (because the women secretly don't need us) so I'm in charge of starting "The Chant" with my big voice. It goes like this:

I yell; "HEY!" As loud as possible, often over a completely silent crowd. And the girls reply with "HO! ATD's GOT SOUL! HUHH!"

I know. Pretty silly, but it's my responsibility! I have to pump some energy into these things and I take my role serious. Every chance I get, I'll do it. I'll drop it on them anytime I want and they will stop whatever conversation their in and hit the reply button in unison. I'm convinced that women have the ability to handle four tasks at once, because, no matter the age, they complete the chant and resume whatever they were doing prior. Just like a damn robot. It's great. It's not nachos and beer great. But great none the less.

So I sit, peck at the old Crackberry, apply the chant when necessary and pretend not to care a whole lot. But...being the ultra competitive, angry guy I am, this is the way my brain works. If I could be in an uncontrolled environment watching these dances, I may be compelled to yell out the following:

Issue one: These judges (refs) don't know a damn thing because my girls dance kicked your girls dance's ass.

Issue Two: Your teams outfits were stupid and my teams rocked.

Issue Three: Who picked that song for your 7 year old girls to dance to? Kanye West?

Issue Four: How did these judges get their job? I think we need a mutiny and take over the panel! Because, once again, my kid's team shoulda won that award.

Issue Five: My teams chant is quick, simple and awesome. Just why the hell do you see it necessary to have a chant that's so long? You might as well add a guitar solo somewhere in the middle for Christs sake!

Issue Six: You want this seat I'm saving lady? Your gonna have to go back to where you came from to get a whole truck load of kick-ass before you try and take it.

Probably a good thing I didn't have a son.

Issue Seven: Hey! Dumb ass!! How many times do they tell us not to use video and you STILL use your phone to film it? If this were Arrowhead Stadium I would threaten to shove that phone so far up your ass you would have to cough to dial.

See where I'm going with this? Not that I would actually speak my mind like this at a recital, but everyone's lucky I contain myself. I'm still not sure that I should attend these things without some kind of pre-game sedative. I don't have the ability to differentiate between Pro Football, Soccer and Dance Competitions for my little girls. If I'm gonna show, I'm going to want to win. Period!

Dance Hard!

J.C.