Ryan Stinson and D-Sisive teamed up with Geordie Gescha of Souldatta Productions to create the new visuals for their track “Rain”.
I was never the athletic type, and not being the athletic type was a major disappointment to my father. His favourite photographs of us were of his failed attempts at teaching me how to skate when I was 4 years old. He was a skilled hockey player, and the type of father who dreamed of having an NHL drafted son, but I never made a Walter Gretzky out of him. I was a Macedonian god when it came to Nintendo’s Ice Hockey, but my time spent in front of the television was time not spent practicing my wrist shot in the schoolyard, and to my father that was time wasted.
I was the Captain Chunk amongst my slim pals. They loved playing sports and I hated running. I’d rather quote In Living Color episodes than chase balls. I also loved being with my friends, so I sacrificed a lot of time watching them move. They all decided to sign up for a baseball house league at Smythe Park. I could hit a lob-pitched softball pretty far, so I figured I’d join them, and maybe make my dad proud in the process. I arrived at my first practice and was immediately terrified when I found out the league was fast pitch. Fuck! I wanted to quit, but my mom’s cheque for $80 was already cashed, and I didn’t want to look like a pussy.
I played left field, which I convinced myself was a big deal because Barry Bonds also played the position. In reality, the outfield was where the coaches stuck the fat kids. I was terrible. I was given the nickname “Cheetah”, ironically, of course. Because of my tortoise-like speed, my team assigned Gilbert Rand as designated runner, who never got the opportunity to flex his potential because I never got on base.
My father came to one game. One fucking game, and of course the one fucking game he attended was the one fucking game I made my most embarrassing error. With the bases loaded, Charlie Sullen hit an easy pop fly to left field - a catch my 8 month old daughter can make – and I wasn’t paying attention. The sounds of laughter, and our center fielder, Nigel Garrett, speeding towards me woke me from my daydream. The ball landed behind me and I didn’t even flinch. It took a few seconds to realize what had happened, and seconds are like dog years in a baseball game. By the time Nigel threw the ball to our catcher, three runs had scored and Charlie stood laughing on third base. I could see my father walking towards our car. Needless to say, we lost the game.
It was an uncomfortable drive home. My dad told me I was lost in my own fantasies. I wasn’t in a park. I was in the Sky Dome, in front of thousands of adoring fans, chanting my name. I was a superstar in my own mind. A legend. The mayor of Opposite Land. He told me I needed to wake up and pay attention to the real world. Pay attention to what’s happening in front of my eyes.