PHILIP...NUMBER ELEVEN!

Nothing brings more pride to parents than to see their children do well at something - be it academics, sports, music - whatever. The awards, the certificates, the applause...wow...you look at your spouse, puff out your chest, and exclaim..."we done good!'

In Philip's case it was baseball. Already at the age of 5, in T-ball, we knew he had the skills, the drive, the desire, to excel at this sport. Skates were out as he couldn't stand upright in them...ever...so hockey was never even a consideration (thank goodness...no 5 a.m. 'freeze your butt off' rink calls for me!).

But baseball...that was a different matter. For 12 years Philip enjoyed the attention, the recognition, the trophies of a very successful 'career'. It was well organized, well coached, well received community ball. And the Scorekeeper loved it! He could hit the homers (27 in his last season with a batting average of .624)... he could throw from deep centre right to home plate and always knew exactly what was expected of him on the bench and on the field. Younger players would surround him after a game winning home run to get his autograph...which was simply...Philip T.

Throughout his baseball years he cherished the number 11 on his jersey (ahhh...hello!...George Bell...Toronto Blue Jays...number 11...Philip's hero...also a home run hitter !). Coaches knew better than to relegate that number to another team member. As a teenager, Philip was at the top of his game. He attended 20 to 30 Blue Jays games a season...watched the rest...knew all the players...their stats, etc. One day he called me at work and received my answering machine requesting the caller to leave their name and number. When I retrieved my messages, there was Philip's, and to this day we still laugh at the innocence. He'd given me what I'd asked for..."my name is Philip...number 11." (reality check...he was 15!)

Here's a wonderful keepsake from our neighbours in Hamilton (The Hall Family) who gave him this on his ELEVENTH birthday!

Another time, at a Dave Stieb 'meet and greet' which I had organized for my company at a local mall, Philip had the honour of standing beside Dave while the crowds struggled to even get a glimpse of this all-time great Blue Jays pitcher. That day Philip had inadvertently worn a Pat Borders (Blue Jays catcher) T-shirt...and at one point in the 3 hour signing session, Dave turned to Philip and asked him if he wouldn't prefer to be wearing a shirt with someone else's picture on it (hint..hint). Without hesitation Philip responded, "sure...George Bell's!'. We all, including Dave, had a good laugh over that one.

One last baseball memory. About 15 years ago we attended a game at the Skydome and for the first time sat in the nose-bleeds. Philip was used to the luxury, private corporate boxes with endless food and beverages...or great seats behind home plate...never level 5! The occasion so impressed him that just a few weeks ago while reminiscing about our many visits to the Skydome, he remarked..."remember that time we took Carolyn to the game and sat way up high?...whoa...that was scary...we beat Baltimore that day".

Wow...what a memory! (I can't recall what I ate yesterday)... but then why would we expect any less from the Scorekeeper, eh?

ATHLETE OF THE YEAR!

"Take me out to the ballgame"...the unofficial anthem of the baseball world...a tune immortalized in American culture and as familiar to young, aspiring ball players as..."Wind Beneath My Wings" is to old expiring romantics like me (c'mon...admit it...you too!). Ahhh...but I digress...

Philip, at the age of 17, decided to change the opening line of that famous song, to..."take me out 'of' the ballgame!"

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was tournament day at the ball park...12 teams in heated competition... anxious parents...messy hot dogs...noisy spectators...excitement everywhere! Philip's team was leading in the 5th inning...they could smell victory in their charge towards the championship...when suddenly, without warning, Philip - their guaranteed home run hitter and ace centre fielder - walks out of the dugout and leaves the diamond. The coach yelled out..."Philip, where are you going?"..."I'm tired...going home!", he replied. We were stunned! And no amount of begging, pleading, coercing, etc.,worked. He went home that day and 'never' played another game!

Something had told him to 'call it a day'...hang up the cleats'...'put the bats away'!

He took up bowling after that...and did very well. (personally I'd rather have my eye teeth yanked out with a pipe wrench by a dentist with halitosis than participate in bowling...but to each his own). Philip loved, and continues to love, the game to this day.

Upon our arrival in Kitimat 3 years ago, he immediately joined the 'Special Olympics' Bowling League. At first, being new, he was a little hesitant and shy, so mom and dad...uncles and aunts...cousins and friends...would join him at the alley. The organizers were quite impressed with this newcomer's weekly entourage. But before long his support group dwindled to one (me) and often even I was discouraged from attending because 'Mr. Independent' wanted to go it alone. Familiarity does NOT breed contempt...it fosters confidence, bravado, and great bowling!

His abilities, his encouragement of other less-abled bowlers, his positive attitude, his enthusiasm...all combined to earn him the distinguished honour of being recognized in the summer of 2008 as 'Special Olympics Athlete of the Year' in Kitimat!

Well were we proud or what?

July 1st... Canada Day Parade in Kitimat...a beautiful sunny day...floats and bands galore...crowds lining the streets...and there was our son, Philip James Thiessen - The Scorekeeper - cruising that parade in a shiny red Mustang convertible...his name boldly emblazened on the side...waving to the throngs of well-wishers...totally unaware of his '15 minutes' of fame...and all he could say at the end of the day,was..."mom, look...the firemen gave me some pencils!"

You gotta love it!