Big G’s favorite pasttime is anything - ANYTHING - to do with a bahwlllll. I’m not sure when or how he picked up this particular obsession (seriously, I’m clueless), but this is one of his first words in life and most mornings.

We have two games we play.

1 - I sit him across from me, crosslegged, and play catch with a miniature, black football (GoArmy! on the side, courtesy of the Kickoff Kid goody bag). I’ll ‘throw’ the ball to him, aiming for his lap. When it drops there, it counts as a ‘catch’ and he claps madly. He then picks it up and, with the strength of Brady and accuracy of Harrington, lets it fly back my way (most of the time, he’s been known to throw backward). The game usually lasts four of five throws before he wants to play ‘tackle’ and crawls my way as if he’s a Lynch.

2 - Our bedroom is a step below the kitchen floor. Gavin will sit in the doorway with a small plastic basketball (complete with a smiley face), and I’ll sit below on the bedroom floor. He’ll throw the ball into the room. I’ll retrieve it. Then toss it back, aiming again for his lap. If I miss and it rolls behind him, he’s quick to turn and shuffle crawl after it, only to bring it back and resume the game. He will do this as long as I will, unless, of course, it’s dinner time. (Food always comes first).

Last Saturday a friend of mine, Clayton, celebrated his 40th birthday.

Just the day before, Friday, he was diagnosed with cancer.

Happy 4-Oh-No.

He’s taking the new pretty well, I guess. Clayton carries with him an air of good humor. He could make a mime laugh out loud. He’s Norm from Cheers, only with a much better attitude and higher tolerance for alcohol. He’s allergic to bad moods (at least, I think he is).

He’s a huge Appalachian State football fan, and was at the big game at Michigan. When boarding the plane for the flight home, he somehow managed to grab the incabin CB and make a special announcement to the passengers on-board. I was told it went something like this.

Attention please, attention please. I have an important announcement to make. The No. 5-ranked Michigan Wolverines just got their butt kicked by Appalachian State University! Enjoy your flight home!

Hi-fives decorated his trip down the aisle, of course.

I see Clayton every fall at our regular tailgate. When he’s around, a good time is always had by all. He’s been to just about every home game the past few seasons, and every championship at Chattanooga. He even once won a raffle for two seats in the chancellor’s box. He went. It was like inviting a Red Bull to a wine tasting. Way too much decorum and properness for a man like Clayton. “Cheer, people, CHEER! There’s a football game goin’ on out there!”

He came back into the stands after halftime. He brought with him napkins full of cookies - “Compliments of the chancellor.”

Tuesday Clayton was coming to terms with a second opinion and his impending intensive chemotherapy sessions. He was checking the many voicemail messages on his cell phone when one just jumped out at him. Somehow. Someway. For some odd reason. An ASU football player had left a message on his phone.

What in the world … ?

The player was Justin Woazeah. He said he wanted to wish Clayton the best and let him know he was in his prayers. Later that night, the two actually talked. Clayton was floored and much appreciative. Justin just said he heard of Clayton’s situation from a friend and wanted to offer some support. If there was anything he could do, let him know. Until then, he was praying for him.

I’m still not sure how Justin got wind of Clayton (Kevin Bacon is somehow involved .. I think), but nonetheless it was beyond cool what he did.

If you’re interested, Clayton has a blog setup here. For now, his spirits are as strong as his annual fourth-quarter admonishments of the Georgia Southern defense. (He really doesn’t like those guys).

I look forward to seeing you back in Boone, big man. You’re in my prayers too.

I got the strep throat last week. It wasn’t fun.

It started Sunday with a small rough patch in the back of my throat. It grew a bit by Monday afternoon and I felt a bit waterery in the head. Went to the doc. Got it confirmed.

Strep. Blech. Thus I was finally admitted to the great big pharmacy database in the sky. I have my first special orange-opaque bottle with my name on a label, and some medical word with 3 “i”s, two “l”s and rhymes with “it ain’t thrillin.”

Fever hit big time by 4. I slept. At 7:30ish my temp was at 102. I stayed in bed. At about 9ish Gabby came in and crawled up beside me. She started to cuddle up, but when her back hit my bare shoulder she jumped.

GABBY: Ow, Daddy! You burned me!!!

(Pokes my shoulder with her finger)

GABBY: Daddy! You’re hot!

A gallon of Motrin and eight hours of sweaty sleep later, I felt fine.

Wednesday afternoon the wife called. Big G was at 102. So, feeling a tad guilty (I swear I didn’t so much as look at him Monday!), I took him to the doc. No strep. No ear infection. No problem. Maybe he’s teething. We’ll call in two days with the results of the strep cultures.

For the next few days Big G’s temp was like the Dow Jones - down near normal with sudden spikes. Yet they never lasted long and he never really complained. The cultures were negative. Then came Monday morning.

Big G was hot. Temp was 103. Threw up twice. Off again to the doc, this time with mom (her words - “I will tell them what tests they will run). Long story short, chest x-rays were fine. He has two ear infections. He’s on a Popeye-load of antibodies.

He was fine last evening and this morning. A little more sluggish than usual, but still all about playing “bah-wl” and crawling at the speed of might. (WALK! Darn you. WALK!)

Me? I’m fellin fine. Two more days of pills and I can kick this bottle to the trash. Hope Big G can do the same.

Everything you need to know about future calendar pinup Big G.

How do you spend an average day?
I wake up around 6:30ish, sometimes earlier, depending on how much sleep my dad didn’t get that night. I then eat and drink and play. Poop some. Nap. Eat and play some more. Poop more. Another nap. I top the day off with more eating and playing, then turn in around 7. I’ve been told life can’t get any better.

Any major influences in your life?
I really dig my dad. I get so excited when I see him that no one can hold me. I spend a lot of time with mom. Not as much as I did a few months ago, but we’re still pretty inseperable. And I just couldn’t get through a day without Gabby. She keeps me smiling and crying, mostly smiling, but there is some crying.

What’s your favorite type of music?
Anything high pitched with flashing lights that’s not disco! There is a difference. I’m really partial to farm songs. That Old McDonald must have quite a spread.

Favorite foods?
Anything by Beech Nut usually fills me up. Gerber is good too. I really dig crackers, though. And crayons. Oh, the many tastes of Crayola! I find them in Gabby’s room, but mom is always taking them away. Oh, and ice cream. I could eat that all day!

Any turn ons you’d like to share?
Bottles. Anything on a spoon. Dogs. Swings. Playing ball. I love playing ball.

Turn offs?
Being rocked when I don’t want to be rocked. Having Gabby pick me up by my head. Diaper rashes. You know, the usual.

Any goals before the big “0-1″?
I’d like to be walking by then. I’ve been pushing laundry baskets around the house, but something about going unaided really scares me. Pulling myself up on the coffee table is getting pretty old, though. Almost as old as my dad’s constant reminder that (high pitched voice) “Gabby was walking when she was 10 months.” No pressure, huh?

But you do have talents, don’t you?
Oh yeah! I can give five, rip magazines to shreads, play peek-o-boo, dance a bit (dad calls it “bobbing”) and I can throw a ball. Not straight. Not very far. Sometimes its more a flip. But I can throw a ball. Plus I can crawl faster than mom can lose her patience. Trust me, that’s fast!

Cool! Thanks for your time. Any words of wisdom you’d like to share?
“Bawwwll.” “Dohg.” “Da-da.” “Bye-bye.” “Uh-oh.” That’s all. I’m a man of few words.

Couldn’t resist.

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As Big G closes in on his first birthday, I’ve *almost* finished getting his room together. That includes what I call his Appalachian State corner. It has all the necessities.

1. Panoramic of a packed Kidd Brewer Stadium
2. Jerry Moore bobble head
3. SI cover
4. Photo of Big G with the cheerleaders
5. Nine autographed photos of individual 2007 NCAA National Champions
6. Block A antenna topper
7. Black and Gold pompom
8. Appalachian cap
9. Autographed action photo of 2005 National Champion turned Green Bay Packer
10. Giant Appalachian blanket
11. Teddy bear wearing a t-shirt that says “Someone at Appalachian State loves me”
12. Autographed ASU men’s basketball poster
13. Photo of Big G with National Champions Leonard Love and Jerome Touchstone
14. Michigan win plaque
15. 2005 team photo autographed by every member of the first National Champion football team in ASU history
16. Old School Yosef vehicle flag
17. Appalachian football poster
18. Appalachian megaphone

And yes, there’s room for more. Much more. Would you expect otherwise?

This is my new favorite photo of the Gs. Both are busy in their own little world, while displaying their inner Jordan.

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Last week the local Hospice chapter held a benefit staring members of the three-time .. three-time … three-time! national champion Appalachian State Mountaineers. That included appearances by the cheerleading squad. So, of course, we were so there.

Gabby was decked out in your Yosef “dress.” Gavin had on his Appalachian State t-shirt. The wife carried her “consigned to go and be happy about it” face. (Just kidding, she loves stuff like this, I think).

The event was at the Broyhill Inn. Upon our arrival, I thought Gabby would be all about some cheerleaders. But no, she was in full “I’m shy” mode. Wouldn’t even look at them. Gavin, of course, couldn’t keep his eyes off them. (He really wanted to grab some hair).

After about 40 minutes of roaming around and being chased by a giant inflatable Indian chief (don’t ask), Gabby warmed up to some attention. She finally acquiesced to a photo with some of the cheerleaders.

A photography crew was taking the photos ($5 donation per print). I was waiting for Gabby’s group photo when the cheerleaders lined up at one end of the room, facing away from me. They were introduced by the emcee. The cheer coach held a boom box up to the mic and began playing “Hi Hi Yikas.” The short-skirted ones went straight into the fight song cheer.

They hadn’t got more than five kicks into the routine when an unexpected new member joined the group. You can guess who.

I was away from the action, but caught it all. As the cheerleaders danced and cheered, Gabby stood immediately in front of them and spun around dancing too. When the routine ended and the cheerleaders clapped, Gabby stopped and clapped with them. Gabby started to walk away when the emcee said, “It looks like the squad has added a new member!” One of the cheerleaders, Reva, shouted for Gabby to come back. She did, sprinting into her arms and people ooo’ed and ahhh’ed.

I was too late for any photos. But a kind woman busy clicking with her digital camera promised me some copies. These are hers.

I spoke to the cheer coach afterwards and got confirmation that, yes indeed, the annual Appalachian State cheerleading summer camps go ages 4 and up. Gabby has reservations in two years.

One side note to this story. During the fundraiser, about 20 or so football players were present signing autographs. The price was just a $2 donation to Hospice. Among the group was, of course, Armanti Edwards, along with Gary Tharrington and Josh Johnson (all of whom, by the way, have autographed photos hanging in Big G’s room).

I found out the next day that Hospice and the Broyhill had made room for only about 20-something players. They apparently didn’t think too many would show up. Boy, were they wrong. More than 30 players came by to spend a Thursday evening signing autographs for fans at a Hospice fundraider. The overflow were turned away.

Just another example of why I love this program so much.

The scene: A local family restaurant bar and grill in Boone. The place is packed and loud. You need to use the restroom. On the way, to the right, you see your sweet two-year-old daughter sitting on her knees before an arcade game. It’s a deer hunting game. She is holding a large plastic rifle and pointing it at the screen, pretending to play. To the left you see a table surrounded by cute college girls giggling at the sight of your daughter.

Cut to: Dad approaches the game and pops two quarters in its slots.

ME: You ready to play a game, sweetie. You want to shoot at the deer some?

GABBY nods head.

DAD walks over to GABBY. She stands and he kneels behind her, helping her lift the rifle toward the screen. The game starts. DAD begins shooting at the opening scenes on screen, then looks down to talk to GABBY. As his gaze hits the floor, he sees a rapidly growing puddle erupting from around GABBY’S feet.

GABBY: (Looking up) Daddy, I’m peeing on myself.

DAD: (Nonchalantly and quietly) It’s okay sweetie. Shh! Let’s play the game!

DAD and GABBY look to the screen when suddenly GABBY’S BOYFRIEND comes walking up to watch. GABBY turns to him quickly.

GABBY: (Loudly) Watch out Carter! I peed on the floor!

CARTER stops in his tracks, eyes wide. He looks at the puddle. Look at me. His eyes go wider.

ME: (Softly) It’s okay Carter. I’m gonna clean it up. We’re just playing a game first.

At that moment, Carter’s dad comes walking around the corner to the bathroom. He’s behind me, but facing Carter.

CARTER: (Very loudly) Dad! Gabby peed in the floor! Watch out!

ME: (dying a slow death inside) Hold on. I’ll get it up.

DAD goes to neatby deserted table, unwraps half a role of paper towel. Wipes floor as GABBY and CARTER still stare and CARTER’S DAD smirks. He refuses to see what the college girls think.

Moral of the story - You just can’t be cool with kids.

Just zip ‘em up and go! You’re assured a nice quiet drive!