Ex's Christmas Prank Was Inspired by "Coach" and "Christmas Story" Antics

In late November 1990, my then-wife and I were watching the hit comedy Coach while lounging on the sofa.

Coach Hayden Fox interrupts Dauber Dybinski's (Bill Fagerbakke) wild football team party and warns everyone there that Riley Pringle (Raye Birk), a member of the conduct committee, is on his way to make sure "no one is having a good time and is looking for a good reason to shut this baby down." Clark T. Nelson and Bill Fagerbakke are the hosts of the event.

Fox declares, "I want everyone to put away the cans, clean up a little, and spend the next hour doing nothing interesting."

He then enters the family room, which has a vehicle parked in the center of it. An actual automobile. Pringle's vehicle! Fred Webb (Travis McKenna), a Minnesota State lineman and mechanic prodigy, had disassembled and reassembled an automobile.

Only if Fred Webb was acquainted with Humpty Dumpty.

"Keep the car hidden!" When someone says Pringle is heading down the street, Webb yells.

"Hide the vehicle?" "Sarcastically," Fox says. "Oh, Fred."

I switch to a local sports station as the program is about to go to commercial break, and they are reruning a coverage of the Los Angeles Dodgers' Miracle 1988 World Series victory against the Oakland Athletics.

My ex-wife says, "So, what did you want for Christmas?"

"You're examining it?" I answer.

She asks, “Dodger Stadium?

I just shake my head and chuckle.

"Perhaps after we win the lottery."

Her second guess is, "Dodger season tickets?"

"I don't believe my salary as a first-year out-of-college sports writer can yet afford that," I respond.

"All right, I give up."

Wearing a Dodger jacket, Tommy Lasorda is seen gimpy and pumping his arms as he runs—well, waddles—onto the field. Kirk Gibson just blasted the game-winning home run against Eckersley in a clutch.

"I've always wanted a Dodger jacket since we moved from South Dakota to Torrance my senior year of high school and I became a Dodger fan," I say.

She gives me a wink and says, "Well, we'll just have to see if Santa can find it."

"How about you? What was your Christmas wish list? I inquire.

She gives me a long list that includes many CDs, Nike sneakers, a tennis racquet, a jewelry, warm-up suits, sweaters, and book titles.

Considering that this was years before Amazon or even the internet, I look at the list and ask myself, "Let's just hope you have been nice and not naughty." I wonder how in the vast world of winter sports I was going to locate all of these diverse products in a few weeks.

Since I worked as a sports reporter at the Valley Press at night and substitute taught during the day, time was not on my side.
I did, however, sometimes find time on the weekends or on the few days off from teaching, and I gradually began to cross items off the Christmas list.

Barnes & Noble is where I discovered or bought the books, Best Buy was invaluable for locating the CDs, and a trip to the neighborhood mall let me check off most of the clothing items.
Even the gleaming gold necklace was eventually bought at Kohl's.
Whoa!

Just a few days before Christmas, I made the last and last purchase, and I could hear "Hallelujah" playing in my brain.

I would be dishonest if I didn't acknowledge that I was interested in the progress of my Dodger jacket purchase. Although I didn't see any jacket-sized boxes being brought by UPS or the mailman, I was seldom home to witness any deliveries, no matter how little, due to my peculiar and long work schedule.

It would be as simple as Dodger Orel Hersisher throwing a shutout to get a Dodger jacket. That season, he pitched 59 scoreless innings, setting a new record.

She must have discovered it. It would be available at any of the several sports goods shops in the area.

On the morning of December 24, we loaded up the backseat of my vehicle with a ton of Christmas gifts for my mom, my brother, my sister, and my ex's parents before heading down to their home in the San Diego region.

I peeked at every gift she had brought. Some of them were addressed to me, but none of them were the desired Dodger jacket since they were either too tiny or the incorrect size.
One gift may have been a jacket, but I quickly shook it to confirm that it was either sweatpants or a T-shirt.

Up until the ninth inning, her drama is intensifying.
My dad's clues on the box (such as CLUE: To Groovin' Mike, From Mother Nature … GIFT: an Earth, Wind & Fire CD) had helped me become an expert at identifying gifts from my early years.
Dodger jacket, dodger jacket, dodger jacket Where are you, I wonder?
I recall thinking, Karma.
This is vengeance for when, as a mischievous 9-year-old, I stole a gift "From Ernie Digreggorio," smuggled it into the toilet, opened it, and then had to pretend to be shocked on Christmas morning ("Wow!"). Turns out, it wasn't an Ernie Digreggorio figure as I had assumed.

I had hidden all of her gifts in the furthest corner of the truck's backseat, behind a blanket.
As soon as she got into the front seat, she questioned, "What's under the blanket?"
I lied and said, "Oh, just some holiday cheer, some snacks, and some goodies."
Knowing precisely what was under the cover, she grinned.
During the three-hour drive, a variety of Christmas tunes played on the vehicle audio, including Whitney Houston's "Do You Hear What I Hear?" and Bing Cosby's "I'll Be Home For Christmas."
I made an effort to allude at the Dodger jacket in a subtle way.
I inquired, "How was your shopping experience this year?"
"Very good," she said. It was simpler to locate certain items than others.
Too ambiguous, damn it.
"Have you located everything you were trying to find?" I was more direct in my question.
She gave me a grin and added, "Not everything."
Nothing. Shut out. Not even a curveball could get by her. She was nice, I saw. Excellent.

We finally made it to her parents' house, which was completely decked out with a miniature, incredibly detailed Santa Village (yes, there was even fake snow!) and a nearby town with a church, tavern, skating rink, and ice cream shop, with a tiny train running through it.

There were heaps upon heaps of presents spilling out from beneath the brilliant, well-lit, and sparkling Christmas tree; my Dodger jacket must have been nestled there somewhere. We went to a lovely service on Christmas Eve, watched Christmas Vacation with hot cocoa and popcorn, and then I "settled in for a long winter's nap with visions of a Dodger jacket dancing in my head."

As the aroma of coffee, waffles, bacon, and cinnamon buns filled the air, my ex-wife wished me a Merry Christmas.

"Are you prepared to open your Christmas presents and discover what Santa has brought you?" she said.

I jokingly said, "As long as there aren't any pink bunny pajamas."

My ex-wife's sister and her boyfriend came soon after, along with my mother and brother.

Then chaos broke out.

The morning was raucous, crazy, enjoyable, and amusing.

The tearing of paper, joyful smiles, exclamations of joy, upbeat voices, and festive Christmas music playing in the background would have given the impression that there were no children there.

Fa fa la la la la la, follow me in joyous measure!

Fa fa la la la la la as I recount Yuletide treasure!

On Christmas morning, there was joy in this family room.

Without a doubt, I got my fair share of amazing and unexpected presents.

Her dad gave me a wonderful, completely stocked toolbox. Even though I'm not very good at fixing things, the present was helpful almost every day.

Other surprises were a tumbler and a Buffalo Bills ski cap. There was a Shaquille O'Neal shirt, a Los Angeles Lakers sweatshirt, a Dodger fitting hat, and a CD including Michael Bolton, Kenny G, and Sting (don't laugh!), but unfortunately, there was no Los Angeles Dodger jacket.

However, there were still more boxes.

There is still hope for a late-inning Dodger surge.

I had a couple novels I was eager to read. Sport-Special Trivia Pursuit.

Then I was given the gift, which was the ideal size. Down the striking zone

Hold on! I wondered whether this was it. The game is really coming to a close.

A dress shirt, no.

Now there was only one remaining.

The ninth inning's bottom. Two outs.

"From??? To Mike"

Is it Possible? As I hurriedly tore off the wrapping paper to uncover... I could feel the excitement growing.

A sweater made with argyle. Oh no!

Get three strikes! The game is done.

"That's it," my ex said with enthusiasm. She approached me and gave me a hug. "I adore every gift." To locate all of these items, you must have had the elves put forth extra effort.

She questioned, but her smile was apologetic as she continued, "Did you get everything you wanted?"

Yes, indeed. Thank you.

I said a falsehood.

After then, it seemed as if time had stopped. My former partner gazed at her mother, then at her father, and finally back at her mother.

For a long time.

and got to his feet.

Slowly.

Similar to a manager making a pitching change by making his way to the pitcher's mound.

"Because," she began. "I believe one of the presents might have been hidden somewhere by one of Santa's more cunning elves."

She then took hold of my hand and led me to the closet with the coats.

I was Kirk Gibson getting ready for my home run, but I wasn't limping.

"All right," she said.

And figuring out what was behind closet door №1 wasn't difficult.

Before you could say, "It's time for Dodger baseball!" I had the door open.

And there it was!

It was fresh, gleaming, and surrounded by a number of tiny silver bows and a huge gold bow. It seemed to be grinning at me.

She said that hiding a Dodger jacket was much simpler than hiding a vehicle.

Then I heard her father yell, "Be careful, kid, you're going to shoot your eye out."

It alludes to Christmas Story, a beloved holiday film that I had not yet seen. It passed over my head. A crazy pitch.

My Red Ryder BB pistol was that Dodger jacket.

I just wasn't aware of it yet.

It's fascinating to look back on the things we can recall. The Dodger jacket's concealment until after all the gifts were unwrapped always irritates me.
The Dodger jacket seemed to me to represent our connection in some way.

It demonstrated our disparate senses of humor and symbolized hidden and dishonest aspects of the marriage.
It didn't seem like a very humorous joke to me.
back then. or reflecting years after.

Indeed, my father enjoyed giving out Christmas presents, and I continued the custom with our kids. I even went one step farther and triple-wrapped a package within a box inside a box. To confuse the potential present opening, I would even sometimes include a baseball, a heavy book, or a bell (literally).
But conceal a gift?
No.
The way our memory works is strange. particularly over the holidays. We recall the strong feelings. These are the memories that last a lifetime.

We repeatedly replay this in our minds.
Both were happy. And the unpleasant and unfunny ones.
Both of us are trapped.

The lesson is to remember the genuine spirit of the season and to make every Christmas joyful and unforgettable for our loved ones, friends, and those less fortunate.
This year and for many, many more years to come, I wish you have a lovely Christmas season.

Thanks for reading my story.