Backstory to one of the coolest stories ever unwritten - till Monday, that is

Coach and I met when I moved to his neighborhood the DAY before my freshman year of high school started.  Technically, I don't remember exactly when we met but our paths crossed once we lived in the same Chicago suburb.  

His family lived at the end of the street from us.  He was basically 'the boy next door.'  My younger brother, Pat, was enrolled in the Catholic grammar school.  Well, Coach ended up being Pat's 8th grade classmate and one of his good friends.   

Pat played on the 8th grade basketball team and so did Coach.  Pat made friends at the new school, and when he had guys over to hang out Coach was usually there.

Coach and I are both the middle of 5 kids.  We each have 2 older sisters and we each have 2 younger brothers.  Since I am older than Pat by less than a year, I was a sophomore in high school when Pat and Coach started high school the next year.  

I was the sophomore with the unfortunate boy haircut (thanks, Mom), the slouchy posture (thanks low self-esteem and trickle down effect compliments of that same homemade haircut), and ill-fitting wardrobe (thanks to my tall genes that skipped my older and shorter sisters and gifted me with their short hand-me-downs).  

Coach never noticed me.  Pat and I carpooled with Coach and his sisters.  I don't think Coach ever realized that I was gracefully flipping over the backseat of his sister's station wagon to sit in my sanctioned 'way-back' seat while trying to hold my Catholic uniform skirt in place.  It was 1986 and chivalry WAS dead as Pat, Coach, and Coach's neighbor, Jay, who was my age monopolized the back seat row while I tried to keep my skirt from giving everyone a show each morning.  

I kept busy in high school faking my talent on the basketball team.  I made the team following tryouts where I exhibited the best basketball skills of my life, and honestly many other lives combined.  These skills were unquestionably completely ill-representative of my true lacking talent.  

Woe is me, even my BK uniform pants were floods.
 This is me walking to work and NOT
wanting to be photographed. 
Can you blame me?

I also held down a job at Burger King where hours after I was done with my shift my Mainstreet (department store now known as Kohls) perm remained formed in a fluffy circle exaggerated by the indented curls that were flattened by my Burger King uniform visor.  

People, I was a catch.  

There are many in-between stories here, but I think we should jump ahead to the next chapter:

Coach moved to Rochester, New York with his family during his senior year of high school while I was busy being a college freshman with long hair at long last and contact lenses.  He and I did not cross paths again until after I graduated college and his family moved back into the house at the end of my street.  They had rented it out for 4 years.

The night before my college graduation pig roast a group of us walked to a nearby bar.  Two of my college friends who I met while I studied in Ireland my junior year were in town from Ireland and were living with my family that summer.  

I was blessed with an Irish match-making mom who instructed Pat to invite some of his friends to go out with us.  Mom hoped to surround 'the girls' (her pet name for my Irish friends) with cute boys.  

That night before we left for the bar, Mom debriefed the girls after Pat told her that Coach was joining us.  "Oh, girls!  Wait till you meet Coach.  He's a very cute Irish boy."  The girls found Mom entertaining.  In their estimation actual 'Irish boys' were fellas who hailed from their home country.  They were not as hell bent on meeting an 'Irish boy' as Mom assumed they were.

Coach and I ended up talking at the bar most of the night having not seen one another since back in high school.  I was a recent college grad and he had one year of college left to complete.  

The next morning I raced downstairs despite a slight headache. The girls were staying in the first floor guest room and I suddenly realized that I had failed to give them specific instructions about leaving out certain details when speaking to Mom.

Timing:  impeccable.  Mom had already entered the room to wake the girls up.  It was an all-hands-on-deck kind of morning to prepare for the big pig roast.  The two of them sat propped up in bed and I stood behind Mom out of her line of vision.  I waved dramatically to signal my so-called friends NOT to tell Mom that I had been all chatty-Kathy with Coach.  Too late.

'Well, Mrs. R.  We couldn't get a word it edge wise with yer man, Coach.  Ya see, Ernie was after talking to him the WHOLE night long.'

This is a photo of 'the girls'
in their waitress uniforms.
 I took the photo while the pic remained in my
 album surrounded by other photos of
 our adventures.  Not all of which were
 snapped during the soberest of times.  

Mom spun around and saw me.  Her mouth dropped open.  She got this glassy-eyed look on her face and I swear for a minute she was not able to see me.  That was because she was distracted by the vision of that 'cute, Irish boy, Coach' walking down the isle with me at our wedding.  

I tried to downplay it to undo her excitement.  "Mom, we just hadn't seen each other since his folks moved to Rochester.  No big deal."  

For the next several weeks, every time Pat and I took the girls out on the town I CASUALLY suggested to Pat that he reach out to Coach and see if he wanted to join us, you know- for 'the girls' benefit.  

At a bar one night, I suggested to Coach that we plan to take the girls to the Old St. Pat's block party downtown in a few weeks.  

Coach:  Why do we always have to invite the girls to go places?  Why can't we ever go out just me and you?

Me:  (trying to play it cool, like he hadn't just admitted out loud that we had a THING for each other)  Well, I would go out with you, but it's not like you're ever going to ask.

Coach:  I think I just did.  Tomorrow night.  Pick you up at 8.

Be still my heart.  

The next night I hung out in my front hall.  Mom was busy in the kitchen.  I did NOT want her to see Coach pick me up.  Pat had already left to go somewhere with the girls.  Our house was at the end of the street, so I could see Coach driving straight for my house.  

Me:  Bye, my ride is here.  (screen door slams as I jog out to Coach's car)

Mom:  (who has never moved so fast in all her life and was at the screen door probably before it even slammed shut)  HI COACH!  Have fun!  Good-night, Ernie!

I hopped in the front seat and sighed.  Coach chuckled as he waved to Mom, "Hey there, Mrs. R!"

From the backseat I hear ANOTHER greeting.  "Uh, hey there, Ernie.  How's it going?"

Me:  (in my head) WHAT ON EARTH?  

I spun around and there sitting in the middle of the bench in the backseat leaning slightly forward towards the front seats was Coach's neighbor, Jay.  Why the hell had Coach invited his goofy neighbor?  

Me:  Oh, hi Jay.

Coach:  So, should we go to Buffalo Bar?  My sister Flo said she would meet us after work.  

Me:  Sure.  (WTF is wrong with Coach, does he not know what a date is?)

We hung out at the Buffalo Bar and we ALL had a good time.  Flo is super fun, and when she finished waitressing at Ruby Tuesdays she met us at Buffalo Bar where there was karaoke happening.  I don't think any of us sang, but we laughed at the people who did.  

This was a different night, but this is Coach
and his sister Flo dancing.  In a bar
- I think that was implied.

When it was time to go, we all walked to the parking lot together.  Jay angled himself towards Coach's car and began walking with Coach and I to where we had parked. . . until my now favorite sister in law called to him from where she was walking towards her car, "Jay.  Come on.  You're driving home with me."  

Coach parked down the street from my house.  He said he didn't want Mom to hear the car engine pull up.  After a nearly covert mission of avoiding Mom's tuned in ears and dodging driving home our third wheel, Jay, we shared our first kiss.  

The rest is sorta history.  I share this with you in order to give you some backstory to an interesting twist.  This story gets a whole lot nuttier and downright unbelievable in the most unexpected way EVER when certain paths cross and certain blog posts are read some 25 plus years after our first, ahem, date (?). 

TUNE IN MONDAY (I know not one of my posting days, but this is a special edition), AND BE PREPARED TO BE BLOWN AWAY!