The boat owned me like a monkey trainer playing the accordian... but what a performance I gave.

The red, black and white HO on the ski stared back at me as I bobbed up an down in the water... I tried to calculate how long it had been since I last attempted this? Was it 10 years... 13 years... I couldn't remember. What did it matter... how long is a long time anyway? The fact was... it had been a long time. I thought to myself, "do I even remember how to do this?" Too late. The rope was taut as it taunted me. "Dance Monkey Dance." No turning back now... I yelled, "HIT IT!" And the motor roared to life... as I began to plane, my ski started to wobble and I lost my confidence as the rope slipped from my hands. The motor was immediately throttled back as my brother looped around me. As he idled by me he said, "You need to lean over your ski quite a bit... this is only a 75 horse motor and you are a lot heavier than the last time you tried this." I thought, "THAAaanks.... that will build my confidence. Hey fatty... lean over your ski more... or you'll never get up." As I grabbed the handle for a second time I clung to the fact that I had done this before. "HIT IT!" The motor once again roared to life... As I began to appear from the water, my ski decided to take a 90 degree left turn... pain shot through my hamstring as muscle sinews began to stretch and tear... I immediately released the rope and laid on my back as the boat throttled back and made the loop that would become all too familiar. "Ouch. That hurt... ripped something." I contemplated quitting... but was ticked that I was no longer young and agile. The 3rd attempt... the engine roared to life... and throttled back... 4th attempt, the engine roared to life... and throttled back... 5th time nothing changed. I told myself, I can do this. I told my brother, "I'll try one more time and if I can't get it... you can give me the other ski and I'll drop one." 6th attempt, I concentrated on my ski and held onto the rope tight... not knowing whether I could do this anymore. The engine roared to life and I began to plane... but then lost confidence. So close. The boat looped around me as I said, "One more try before you give me that second ski... I had it that time... besides that, 7th time is a charm."

The rope tightened as I yelled "HIT IT!" for the last time. I hung on as I leaned hard over the tip of my ski and dragged my other foot behind me in the water to give me a little extra stability. I was up... whew. Finally. I slowly worked my free leg to the back of the ski. The cushion of the back binding never felt so good. Mentally and physically exhausted, I rested behind the boat as I moved smoothly through the water, getting used to what was once familiar ground. As I regained my strength and confidence, I began to weave back and forth over the wake. I still had it. Amazing. As we zoomed by, Jake and Sydney were standing at the end of the dock. I leaned back on my ski holding onto the rope with one hand and gave them the thumbs up sign as I winked at Sydney. The glimmer in her eye said it all. She was proud. He was proud. I couldn’t hear his squeal of delight over the sound of the motor as I roared by, but Sydney said that he was jumping up and down shouting, “That’s my Dad! That’s my Dad! That’s my Dad!” In the late afternoon sun, I became a hero in the eyes of my son, as, from his perspective, I had just walked on water. A few minutes later, I released the rope as I glided into the shore and sank into the water, my legs became wobbly as I once again became an “old man.” It’s now 3 days later and I have a slight gimp as a result of "jacking something up" in my hamstring. The price you pay for being a hero. But let me tell you, any price you have to pay to become a hero in the eyes of your son is worth it. I would do it again in a heartbeat... just give me time for my hamstring to heal. lol.