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4 min read<\/p>\n4 min read<\/p>\n
I WAS STANDING on the sidelines, drinking tepid coffee from a travel mug, watching my thirteen-year-old son play yet another game, because that\u2019s what you do on Saturdays when you\u2019re a soccer dad.<\/p>\n
It was a cold, rainy afternoon. At some point in the endless second half, my friend Eric drifted over to say hi. He said he\u2019d stopped by my house the day before to pick up his son, and had heard me playing my electric guitar.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou sounded pretty good,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Another dad, a guy named Bill, was standing nearby, close enough to eavesdrop. I still remember the way his head swiveled in my direction, and the probing, sidelong look he shot me. I didn\u2019t know Bill very well, though I\u2019d seen him at countless games. After Eric wandered off, he sidled over. His glasses were speckled with tiny raindrops, just like mine.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou play guitar?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI used to,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019m getting back into it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou should come to my house,\u201d he said. \u201cWe can jam a little.\u201d<\/p>\n
BILL\u2019S BASEMENT WAS loaded with all kinds of equipment\u2014guitars and drums, amps and keyboards and microphones, a whole rock-and-roll arsenal. He was a way better guitarist than I was, but he didn\u2019t mind my limitations. He just wanted to play. And we actually sounded okay together, despite our different styles and abilities.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe should do this again,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
When I showed up for our next session, another soccer dad was there, a guy named Roger, who played keyboards and sang. Our drummer Narayan joined us the next time we got together\u2014I\u2019d coached his son a few years earlier on the B travel team\u2014and then I asked my friend Ben if he wanted to jam with us. Ben didn\u2019t live in our town, and his daughter didn\u2019t play soccer, but he\u2019s a great bass player and a dynamic front man, and he made us complete.<\/p>\n
I\u2019D ALWAYS WANTED to be in a band. I tried out for one in high school, but I choked at the audition, and I was so humiliated that I put my guitar away for 25 years, and only started playing again in my forties. It was exhilarating to suddenly be living out my teenage dream, but also humbling, because I was the least experienced musician in our group, and made a lot of mistakes.<\/p>\n
Our first gig was a high school graduation party, held in a function room at a local country club. We were the opening act; the headliners were a bunch of graduating seniors, including Bill\u2019s son, Gavin. We arrived three hours early to set up our elaborate gear and to do a proper sound check, and then stood around, grinning nervously in our black T-shirts as the cavernous party space filled with cheerful teenagers, who told us over and over how cool it was that we had a band, and how eager they were to hear our music.<\/p>\n
When the big moment finally arrived, Narayan clicked his sticks, and we launched into a sizzling version of \u201cStart Me Up\u201d by the Rolling Stones, at which point the kids immediately left the room and went outside. They stayed out there for our entire set\u2014we could see them through the windows, standing in little groups, chatting among themselves\u2014and returned the moment we were done. No one requested an encore.<\/p>\n
WE HAD TROUBLE finding a name for ourselves. Various ideas were floated, but nothing stuck, until Narayan\u2019s daughter suggested \u201cfoodbaby,\u201d which made us all laugh.<\/p>\n
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