The Coach, The Man, The Mike

I have made it a habit to post about the people I care about on their birthdays and I started this post on Friday in preparation for the birthday of one of my oldest and best friends. And not just any birthday - his 30th birthday. Michael Richard Pollard and I began our friendship as the sons of fellow Air Force Academy graduates. Our parents forced us together as 6-7 year-olds, probably with the intention of giving us a "controllable" friendship. At first, we sort of fought this intrusion on our circle-of-friends sovereignty, but we developed what could be called a mutual respect (correct me if I'm wrong, Mike).

Mike was little for his age and always smaller than me-despite is advantage in years-but made up for it with a feistiness that is hard for me to describe to those who didn't know him then. He would not back down to anyone (he is identified by name in an earlier post about supporting your boys) and even as a child I respected this. In true brotherly fashion we competed against all comers, but also against each other. I had the size (I haven't grown since middle school) but he had the temper, speed and passion. We made the perfect team as no one wanted to mess with the devious little fiend or his big friend who had no concept of consequences.

He was my consistent friend. As I changed classmates each school year and my school "crowd" fluctuated, I always had Mike for backyard baseball and football, shooting BB guns at anything we could find and exploring the mysterious "backwoods" of Air Force Academy base housing. I stayed with him for days when it was too snowy to go home or when my family was having troubles (thanks to Mr. and Mrs. P for keeping me).

As we got to high school, our relationship evolved with our lives. Mike discovered music and I devoted myself to sports. He learned guitar, bass, piano, drums and the pan flute (though I don't think I have ever seen him play one). I learned that I would never have any musical talent, no matter how hard I practiced. I recall Mike once observed that one of the things he liked about he was that when we sang (at church or to a song on the radio), I would frequently harmonize to him on accident. Even though his goal was to be funny and it wasn't a complementary statement, he knew me well enough that I laughed right along with everyone.

Changing interests didn't stop our competition, it just tweaked it a little. We still competed over girls or rally racing our twin Dodge Colts or whatever might come up. He kissed my first girlfriend before I did and we did take swings at each other in the middle a basketball game (also nominally over a girl). The strength of our friendship is born out by the fact that we were soon able to laugh over these and we are still very close today. The first time I drove without parents was in his nasty old Volvo. He went to my sporting events and I watched him showcase his musical/theatrical talents (he made a great 11 year-old at a high school rendition of "The Sound of Music"). I was part of his surprise proposal and engagement party for Stephanie and we were the best men at each other's wedding. We have become like uncles to each other's sons and in-laws to each other's wives.

Since this post is getting long enough that I am approaching the point where people may not take the time to read it, I will conclude this walk down memory lane. Mike Pollard is a great coach, a great friend, a great husband, a great dad and a great man. I am a better man for having grown up with him and for his influence in my life today. We are close enough that I can tell him anything and he's wise enough enough to kick my butt when I need it. He is in the circle of men that I trust implicitly.

If you read this blog but not his, I recommend that you avail yourself of his wit and wisdom. I promise it will brighten your day and inform your life. Happy Birthday, Mike!