Teenage wasteland

It's a shame, really.

Loving parents. All the comforts of home. Anything you need on a silver platter. A free college education there for the taking... if only you would put a tenth of the effort that you give to baseball.

I knew the teenage years would be a parenting challenge. After all, I was once one myself. I think I was prepared to deal with the threats posed by sex, drugs and, well, maybe not rock and roll so much (I'm a rocker myself). Besides, my own upbringing gives me a unique perspective on the father-son relationship.

And for 14 years we've enjoyed the bond I've always dreamed of. Constant companions. Shared passion for all things Packers, Dodgers and Lakers. A common appreciation for a good cheeseburger. Playing catch.

Sadly, it has changed. Maybe I shouldn't have let/made you ride RAGBRAI last year. I was so proud of you. I still am, but, buddy, where have I gone wrong?

If there's a benefit of standardized tests, it's that it reveals potential. You've got it. But you've got to want it. You've got to want it for yourself more than I want it for you.

You go to school at 6:30 in the morning to lift weights... every day. Your baseball starting streak rivals Brett Favre's. You've never missed a meal. Your work ethic is impressive. How it doesn't carry over into the classroom is mind boggling.

It's your life, and the choices you make will determine your future. I'll love you regardless. Meanwhile, your choices are making life miserable for all of us while throwing away your future.

You've got to want it.