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http://sports.yahoo.com/top/news?slug=usat...today&type=lgns
Daughter's smile will erase wedding bill blues
By Mike Lopresti USA TODAY
7/21/2005 8:40:00 PM
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Apologies to all the sports teams, leagues and events previously castigated in this spot for draining my wallet, and yours. When it comes to high prices, I have seen the light.
Never again will there be bitterness while pushing across $4.50 for a hot dog at the ballpark. Or sorrow while handing the parking attendant a $20.
No longer will the cost of a fitted baseball cap be considered an act of piracy, or will there be an urge to ask the frosty malt seller if his name is really Jesse James. Even hockey tickets seem reasonable.
There is but one reason for this metamorphosis: The oldest daughter's getting married Saturday.
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And I thought Super Bowl hotels broke you.
Clearly, the fool who came up with the idea that the bride's family bankrolls the wedding day had four sons.
Undoubtedly, many of you out there understand. Let us put this in sports vernacular. It is easier to go through wads of cash planning a wedding than the Colorado Rockies go through pitchers.
It is obvious, for example, where Mafia loan sharks who testified go in the witness protection program. They sell wedding dresses. I hadn't been that stunned by a charge since I bought a Madison Square Garden pretzel.
The dress was only the beginning, of course. The photographer would need this and the florist would need that and the reception hall would need something else. A check here, a check there, more checks everywhere.
Now I know what it feels like to be a Yankee accountant.
Where's a salary cap when you need one?
All this is accompanied by the minor chaos of the last few days of getting everything ready. It's rather like the fourth turn of the pace lap at Indianapolis. You know the green flag is coming. You're just not sure if anyone is going to go into the wall.
And after wondering just what the GNP of this one day is going to be, the father of the bride then has to squeeze into a tuxedo, which for some of us is like putting a defensive tackle into a swimmer's Spandex.
Not to mention he also has to cope with a hole in the heart from looking at his grown-up daughter, wondering whatever happened to the little Girl Scout who used to play hide-and-seek in the closet.
This is the moment, I suppose, when you realize how the money flies. But not nearly as quickly as the time.
This is my first wedding as father, and that's a worry. I have seen what happens to rookies. They throw interceptions when pressured, miss free throws at crunch time, and hook into the water on No. 18.
Do they also stumble going down the aisle, blow their lines in the ceremony, or blubber too much when they think how quickly a daughter went from a Halloween costume to a wedding gown?
Her fiancà is a fine guy. Couldn't be better. But I still feel like the general manager who is being forced to trade away a superstar.
In the end, though, I probably feel a lot more like George Steinbrenner. We're both spending a chunk of money this summer in pursuit of a goal. He hopes to beat the Red Sox. I hope for a daughter's happy smile.
And if it works out, I'll be able to forget the expense as easily as he does. Fathers do that.
Daughter's smile will erase wedding bill blues
By Mike Lopresti USA TODAY
7/21/2005 8:40:00 PM
Headshot
Logo
Apologies to all the sports teams, leagues and events previously castigated in this spot for draining my wallet, and yours. When it comes to high prices, I have seen the light.
Never again will there be bitterness while pushing across $4.50 for a hot dog at the ballpark. Or sorrow while handing the parking attendant a $20.
No longer will the cost of a fitted baseball cap be considered an act of piracy, or will there be an urge to ask the frosty malt seller if his name is really Jesse James. Even hockey tickets seem reasonable.
There is but one reason for this metamorphosis: The oldest daughter's getting married Saturday.
ADVERTISEMENT
And I thought Super Bowl hotels broke you.
Clearly, the fool who came up with the idea that the bride's family bankrolls the wedding day had four sons.
Undoubtedly, many of you out there understand. Let us put this in sports vernacular. It is easier to go through wads of cash planning a wedding than the Colorado Rockies go through pitchers.
It is obvious, for example, where Mafia loan sharks who testified go in the witness protection program. They sell wedding dresses. I hadn't been that stunned by a charge since I bought a Madison Square Garden pretzel.
The dress was only the beginning, of course. The photographer would need this and the florist would need that and the reception hall would need something else. A check here, a check there, more checks everywhere.
Now I know what it feels like to be a Yankee accountant.
Where's a salary cap when you need one?
All this is accompanied by the minor chaos of the last few days of getting everything ready. It's rather like the fourth turn of the pace lap at Indianapolis. You know the green flag is coming. You're just not sure if anyone is going to go into the wall.
And after wondering just what the GNP of this one day is going to be, the father of the bride then has to squeeze into a tuxedo, which for some of us is like putting a defensive tackle into a swimmer's Spandex.
Not to mention he also has to cope with a hole in the heart from looking at his grown-up daughter, wondering whatever happened to the little Girl Scout who used to play hide-and-seek in the closet.
This is the moment, I suppose, when you realize how the money flies. But not nearly as quickly as the time.
This is my first wedding as father, and that's a worry. I have seen what happens to rookies. They throw interceptions when pressured, miss free throws at crunch time, and hook into the water on No. 18.
Do they also stumble going down the aisle, blow their lines in the ceremony, or blubber too much when they think how quickly a daughter went from a Halloween costume to a wedding gown?
Her fiancà is a fine guy. Couldn't be better. But I still feel like the general manager who is being forced to trade away a superstar.
In the end, though, I probably feel a lot more like George Steinbrenner. We're both spending a chunk of money this summer in pursuit of a goal. He hopes to beat the Red Sox. I hope for a daughter's happy smile.
And if it works out, I'll be able to forget the expense as easily as he does. Fathers do that.
