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Driving home past the skatepark,
I see half a dozen skaters flippy trickin,
Hanging out on the deck.
40-some degrees today with sunshine,
a far cry from temps in the teens,
windchill in the single digits.
Snow is still on the ground,
Portions of the park are unskateable,
But the boy and I grab our boards and give it a try.
The concrete is fairly dry in spots,
Surprising because of the day’s melt-off,
But pleasantly so just the same.
Two of my favorite corners are snow-encrusted,
So we mess about on the banks,
Trying to carve on the roundwall instead.
The boy is hesitant doesn’t even want to try,
He’s walking around on the snow,
On the muddy frozen ground yawning.
Slowly and gently I talk him through the process,
I even ask another little grom for advice,
And he starts to carve little by little.
A quarter of the way then he bails,
Half-way there nose too high he bails,
Three-quarters of the way still too high he bails.
I have to translate from goofy to regular,
You gotta do the opposite of what I do,
Sounds funny but that’s what he’s gotta do.
My daughter and I are goofy foot,
Always trying to explain to him in regular,
Front-side back-side fakie is the opposite for you.
We take our turns waiting for the others,
Tight-pants wearing flippy trickers on popsicles,
To clear before we hit the roundwall.
Every now and again they hit the roundwall,
But they clear it ollie-ing over the top,
Never once carving that precious wall.
The boy finally relaxes and starts to have fun,
That’s all I wanted--wasn’t expecting him to grind the top,
Wasn’t expecting him to ollie and flippy-trick the wall.
But that’s my boy--sometimes too much like me,
Hiding from life/hiding from himself,
“Just ride the wall,” I say, but he over-thinks it.
I’ll explain it to him so he understands the concept,
Its all about physics—inertia, gravity, right up his alley,
But then it’s about practice and experiencing it for yourself.
So much like martial arts in that way,
And after you’ve mastered the move,
It has to become second-nature, instinctual, beyond thought.
I don’t expect him to simply drop-in,
Don’t expect him to do a trick with no practice,
He seems to think I expect too much.
I think he expects too little from himself,
Given enough time and practice and patience,
He will surprise himself and go beyond his expectations.
Understand the concept/practice the mechanics,
Learn from doing/sometimes by failing,
And then let her rip, son—hold on and see where you go.
December afternoon two weeks shy of winter,
Skatepark full of shredders searching for their stoke,
Ignoring the snow-covered landscape and looks of passers-by.
Dry concrete beckons us out of our wintery slumber,
Sunny warm day translates to packed skatepark,
Regardless of the season regardless of the calendar.