KROONA COACHES TO PARK

March 1st, 2003

ROSEVILLE, Minn.-- I had no idea when when I returned Mike's call on Friday night that his presence would be so enlightening.

Upon arrival, Mike still wasn't sure what was going to happen that night. Mike wanted to settle an old Madden score. I wanted to settle an old Griffey score. We both wanted to settle an old Super Mario Brothers 3 score. And we even left open the option to go bowling. What we ultimately decided to do was go to a hockey game. Now I will feel shame forever...

The section final tilt between White Bear Lake and Centennial would start somewhere around 9 p.m. So as 8:30 neared, we decided to head out. After the ten-minute trip to the State Fairgrounds, it was time to find a parking spot. One cycle through the grounds and it was Dave who spotted a convenient spot and so I quickly whipped a "U-turn" and pulled up along side the car in front of the spot. The fun began...

Keep in mind that I scored a 91 on my drivers test back on March 21st, 1996. I kept my cool as I weaved through the array of stop-lights, stop-signs, lane-changes, and brake-slams. But when it came to the parking, nine points quickly went in the proverbial toilet and those are the nine points that haunt me time and time again. Friday night would be no different.

I turned the wheel to angle myself to back straight in. I backed straight in. Here's where the problem lies for me: what next? After a couple of "back-and-forth"s Dave decided he would get outside and tell me how close I was to the car behind me and the car in front of me. Like that was any help. My problem wasn't that I lacked depth perception. It's that I may not have studied hard enough in my 9th grade geometry class or Mrs. Williams Physics class.

Mike quickly grew tired and frustrated with my tactics and decided to coach me into the spot.

"Go over there," he said as he pointed to the right. "Now go back over there and straighten out."

Pretty soon I was laughing uncontrollably. It wasn't only that I couldn't park -- it was that a good friend decided that he needed to coach me into the spot and was dead serious in doing so.

After realizing that helping me get into that parking spot was like trying to teach Chuck Knoblauch how to throw the ball to first base, Mike and Dave quickly tried to lend me some "face" by blurting out "good enough." There is no recorded instance in history when "good enough" actually meant that it was "good enough" and I was fully aware of this. But was my situation likely to improve? No.

I swallowed my pride, conceded defeat, and headed inside the Coliseum to watch White Bear stave off Centennial in a thriller.

And then it was time to try to undo my parking job...

-Judd P. Berthiaume can be reached by clicking here