That Didn’t Happen

Cooper always loved it when his uncle Nick visited. Nick would usually bring a gift for him, some sort of little knick knack from his travels or wherever he happened to be living at the time. He’d gotten a comic book from Japan. A baseball signed by some relief pitcher in Miami. A bow from somewhere out west. His family barely traveled - outside their annual trip to the Upper Peninsula of course - so he enjoyed these relics from around the world. But he especially loved hearing Nick’s stories.

So last Friday when he arrived home from his friend Jason’s house and saw a strange car in the driveway, he knew Nick had returned. He rushed into the house, kicked off his shoes, and ran into the kitchen. Sure enough, there was his uncle Nick, sitting at the kitchen table with his mom and dad and drinking a beer.

Cooper got a can of soda and joined the adults. “So, what’s new, buddy?” asked his uncle.

Cooper told him about the baseball season, how he’d been playing second base and doing a pretty good job of it. He was even hitting near the top of the order. His coach commended his hustle.

“Attaboy,” said his uncle with a proud grin. “Your dad was a good ballplayer himself, did you know that?”

Copped did know that. He’d seen his dad’s trophies, heard the stories.

“Of course, did he ever tell you how he got kicked off the team at one point during junior year?”

No. No, his dad had certainly never told him that story.

“Nick…” pleaded his dad. Cooper looked over at his mom, who’d perked up. Clearly she’d never heard this story either.

“Oh it was hilarious,” continued Nick. “Your dad… it was our final scrimmage before the season started. We were playing an exhibition game against the freshmen team. And your dad…” Nick started laughing to himself. “He spiked the freshmen team’s Gatorade bottle with hot sauce. A few kids noticed something was off, but being freshmen and all and trying to be tough and cool, they didn’t say anything. So more and more kids drank the Gatorade. From the other dugout we could see the anguish on their faces. They were so determined to tough it out, but their faces just got redder and redder. Eventually, one kid, he couldn’t take it anymore. In the middle of the inning he sprinted across the infield and to our dugout. He was frantic - he knocked over all the cups, and was on the ground grasping for one. He just kept pounding our Gatorade. He must have had three cups. So Coach Anderson, well, he knew something was up at this point. He walked over to the freshmen dugout and started asking questions. Eventually one of the kids, looking ready to vomit, told him what was going on.”

“How did the coach know it was my dad?”

“Oh, we all gave him away. Not intentionally or anything, but we were pretty dumb about it. Everyone was looking at him and laughing, and some guys were even patting him on the back and giving him high fives. It was painfully obvious your dad was behind it.”

“It wasn’t me…” his dad tried saying. Nick waved him off.

“Wow, that’s crazy…” Cooper said in wonder.

“So, sure enough, Coach kicked your dad off the team. Of course, a couple weeks later when our ace went down with an injury, your dad was asked to rejoin the team. I guess he’d ‘had enough time to think about what he’d done’ from what Coach told the rest of the team.”

“That didn’t happen,” stated his dad emphatically. “Now… let’s talk about something else.”

“Do you have any more stories about dad?” Cooper was quick to ask, hungry for more.

Nick and his dad were twins, inseparable since birth. They’d played together, fought together, schemed together, and even double dated together. They played baseball together in high school, and attended the same college. They were roommates, brothers, and best friends. It wasn’t until after college when Nick set out to explore the world that the two were separated for more than a couple of days. And even with Nick’s travels, the two kept in close contact, texting daily and calling each other weekly.

“Plenty,” said Uncle Nick with a wink. “Plenty.”

“Like…?”

“Cooper, I don’t know if this is the best for you to hear…” his mom tried suggesting. But Nick waved her away as well.

“Your dad was a wild man in college,” Nick followed up.

“By wild man, you mean some late nights at the library,” his dad tried to intervene.

“Ha! Not sure if you knew where the library was, my brother. No… but he did know where the big fountain outside the science building was. In the middle of the fountain was a statue of some founder or something.”

“Nick… this didn’t happen either.”

“Of course it did. It was a weekend night, maybe 2 AM, after some party. We were sophomores, and your dad met a couple girls on the walk back to the dorms. I don’t know how the idea even started, but before you know it, someone had suggested wading in the fountain. I think your dad was hoping these girls would strip down to their underwear or something. But that didn’t happen. It was the fall, and a relatively warm night, but not exactly hot out. The girls just rolled up the legs on their jeans. Your dad though…” Nick started laughing to himself. As he composed himself, he added “Your dad stripped down to his boxers. I remember, he even perched his sneakers carefully on top of the statue. And then, once in the fountain, he began dancing. He did the Macarena, the robot, the chicken dance.”

“Did the girls dance too?” asked his mother, who’d clearly never heard this story before.

“No, of course not. They just laughed at him like he was an idiot.”

“Were you there?” asked Cooper.

“Yep, I was there. I didn’t get in though. I just stood to the side, laughing my ass off. Man, sometimes I wish we had smart phones back then. I wish we had a pic. Of course, the cons probably would have outweighed the pros for us.”

“So then what happened?” His mom was reeled in.

“This is where it gets even funnier. Campus police showed up. The girls, they scattered. Never saw them again, aside from across the caf. But your dad, well, he was practically naked. He scrambled to get his clothes on, but he wasn’t going anywhere. They gave him a ticket or something, and I think he had to do community service. Me, I just got a talking to. I didn’t technically do anything wrong… other than egg on my idiot brother.”

“That didn’t happen,” stated his dad. “Like you said, there was no photo evidence.”

“Yeah yeah…”

“That’s really funny. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad dance, even at a wedding!”

Cooper’s mom, despite being amused by the story, looked to change the subject. “So what sounds good for dinner? We can order a pizza from Theresa’s?”

Everyone agreed, and she placed the order on her phone.

“That reminds me…” started Uncle Nick.

“Oh no…” mumbled his dad.

“I think this was junior year. We were living in on-campus apartments, and it was a weeknight. A rare night we weren’t at a party or the bar. Might’ve been exam week, now that I think about it. But I remember us being completely sober. We were hanging out outside the apartment, just talking with the regular smokers and that typical dude with his acoustic guitar. And at one point, a pizza delivery guy drove up. He parked his car in front of the building, and ran the pizzas inside. There was a front desk where he could call up to whomever ordered the pizzas. And your dad - oh man - he suddenly had this idea. You could practically see the light bulb illuminate over his head. But he ran over to the car - which the guy had left running - and got behind the wheel. Again, perfectly sober. And what does he do, he drives the car around the block. Just to the next street over. He ran back, plopping himself down on the bench next to the guy with the guitar, like nothing happened.”

“What did the pizza guy do?” asked Cooper, now having the time of his life.

“At first, he just seemed confused. Completely puzzled. He kept looking back and forth, like he was losing his mind. Then… then he turned on all of us. And LOST IT. He started yelling about how we were all entitled and irresponsible and lazy and spoiled little rich kids. I think at one point he even used the word impotent. The guy was pissed. After a minute of this, my conscience got the best of me, and I suggested he look the next street over. The guy stormed off, swearing at us as he walked away. All the students were in shock from the pizza guy’s reaction, but once that passed, everyone cracked up. Your dad was kind of a legend around the building after that.”

“That is SO COOL!” exclaimed Cooper.

“That didn’t happen,” maintained his dad. “Must’ve been someone else.”

“Oh, it happened. Definitely happened. Just like that shopping cart that found its way into our dorm room sophomore year.”

“Shopping cart?” asked his mom. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard this one.”

“Oh yeah. We had a Kroger near campus. Ghetto Kroger as we called it. The place was a dump. If you wanted a dented can of corn, or some moldy blueberries, or some rancid ground beef, Ghetto Kroger was perfect. We basically only shopped there when we couldn’t find rides anywhere better. But one night, again after a party, we were walking back to the dorms. We stumbled across a shopping cart just outside the parking lot, and your dad again had a great idea. We took the cart with us. Our group of friends took turns sitting in the cart and pushing each other down the street. We all fully expected to just leave the cart somewhere, but your dad wanted to keep it. So I stood lookout in the lobby, and once the RAs weren’t around, your dad wheeled the cart into the dorm and onto the elevator.”

“So what did he do with the shopping cart?” Cooper was curious.

“That’s the funny part, all he did was just use it as a big laundry basket. He just threw his dirty clothes in there. Which wouldn’t have been too bad, except he put the cart right at the head of my bed. So while I slept, his dirty underwear and sweaty shirts were just inches from my face. That’s actually where I drew the line - I told him the cart had to go. So you know what he did? He emptied the cart, and late one night, he wheeled it into the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor. I later heard one of the RAs found it while doing rounds later that night. Completely puzzled. She had to walk it back to Kroger herself.”

“Nice,” said Cooper, looking at his dad in a new light.

“Yeah, that didn’t happen either,” replied his dad.

“Sure it did. I’m sure we have a photo somewhere of that cart.”

“Nope. No photo, because it didn’t happen.”

“What else?” implored Cooper.

“Okay, here’s a great one. Another dorm room tale, this one from early in freshman year. We had this RA, Keith…”

“This one DEFINITELY didn’t happen,” emphasized his dad.

“Yeah yeah. So Keith was kind of a pain in the butt. Always trying to bust us for something or another. So your dad devised this plan… we wanted to sneak a keg of beer into our dorm room. We knew it would be tough, since the RAs were usually stationed at the front desk. But when a kid down the hall got a new mini fridge, your dad got this great idea. You see, the fridge came in this huge box. A box big enough to fit a keg… which coincidentally is around as heavy as a mini fridge.”

“I don’t know if I like where this is going…” said his mom. Yet she didn’t stop the retelling.

“Now, your dad didn’t really like Keith. So he thought it would be fun to get Keith to - completely unknowingly - help bring the keg into the dorm. So on a Friday afternoon, a group of us went out to the liquor store and bought a keg. Uhh, it’s best you don’t ask how a group of minors were able to do so. Anyway, I believe it was Milwaukee’s Best. And once we got it to our friend’s pickup, we slid it inside the mini fridge box and taped it up. When we got back to the dorm, we made a big deal over struggling to lift and carry the box. And Keith, who spent a lot of time at the gym, jumped at the chance to flex his muscles and help carry the box. So sure enough, our RA helped us bring a keg into our room!”

“That’s awesome! Then how did you get rid of the empty keg?” asked Cooper.

“We didn’t. Because that didn’t happen,” stressed his father.

“Well, freshman year we didn’t have an elevator in our dorm that your dad could just leave it in, a la the shopping cart a year later. But we did have a communal bathroom. And sure enough, later that weekend another student went to use the toilet, and opened the stall to find an empty beer keg sitting there on the can. Oh man, once Keith heard about the keg he was so pissed. But as far as I know, he never caught onto how he helped us bring it in… That, or he refused to admit he was duped. Either way, we got away with it. It was like an Ocean’s Eleven heist, all orchestrated by your old man!”

“Nope. Never happened.”

“Well, I think that’s enough stories for now,” said his mom.

The pizzas arrived and the family enjoyed their meal, now swapping stories of Nick’s travels and Cooper’s baseball season.

Later that evening, with Nick back on the road, Cooper made his way down to the basement. His dad had a little Man Cave there, and he was watching a ballgame.

“Hey dad…”

“Hi, Coop. What’s up?”

“It was fun seeing Uncle Nick earlier. It had been a while.”

“Yeah, I always enjoy it when he comes into town.”

“So… those stories. Those were really cool. It was fun to imagine a younger version of you. Before your job and family and stuff. Someone fun.”

“I’m not fun?”

“No, you are. Just a different kind of fun now. Someone to play catch with, or go to the waterpark. Not… that. It’s too bad none of those stories were true.”

Cooper’s dad studied his son, considering the boy’s comments.

“Well… let me show you something.”

His dad walked into the unfinished portion of the basement, and started sifting through some old boxes. Eventually, he found what he was looking for, and set the box on the table. He opened it, and started looking through some old photos.

“See this?”

Cooper examined a photo. It was of a group of teenagers, all in baseball uniforms. The bigger boys all had sly grins on their faces. The younger boys had rosy red faces and looked miserable. He flipped the picture over and read the back: Varsity vs Frosh Game, 2001.

His dad then handed him another photo. It was of a shopping cart sitting in a dorm room, filled to the brim with clothes.

The next photo was a Polaroid, also of a dorm room, a grainy image of a beer keg next to a large mini fridge box.

“So… the stories were true then?”

“Son… Yes. These things did happen. Your Uncle Nick wasn’t making anything up. I did these things. Many of them were stupid or irresponsible or even illegal. And I’ve learned from these mistakes. I’ve grown. I’m happy to have these memories though… But that said, they absolutely do not need to happen again. I was lucky I didn’t get into more trouble. And now that you’ve heard some of these stories, I want to stress to you that you need to be careful. You don’t need to recreate these stories, or do similar crap. Especially nowadays with smart phones and social media. People do dumb stuff every day and get busted because someone posts it online - often the idiots themselves. So, just be careful, okay?”

His son nodded. He saw his dad in a different way that day. Not just as his father. But as a man, a man who used to be a young man and even a boy. Someone who did dumb things, and made mistakes. But also someone who made some great memories along the way.

“Yeah, dad. I’ll be careful. I hear you.”

Cooper sat down at the table and started looking through the old photos. His dad, glad to have made his point to his teenage son, sat back down at the couch and returned to the game.

“Hey dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Why is there a picture of you getting escorted out of a Cubs game by the cops?”