Nothing bridges a generation gap like sitting in the back of a bus with your son and all his friends, learning to get jiggy with it. "Every parent wants to spend quality time with his kid," says Frank. "It just so happens I get to spend quality time with my son on the basketball floor."
About a month ago, before a game at Shasta College, Frank was warming up when he realized a man was staring a hole in him. The man was an old college teammate of Frank's. The man and his beer belly were so flabbergasted, he could hardly speak. "Frank? Frank, is that you?"
You know, sports could use a lot more Franks. Dennis Rodman whines at a press conference that he's only going to make $500,000 to play basketball? Introduce him to Frank. Superstar athletes make sons and never meet them? Tell them about Frank. I'm 41. The other day I got off the couch and went skateboarding with my teenage son. Thanks, Frank.
At Redwoods it's a tradition to start the outgoing sophomores in the final regular-season game. That meant Frank and Issac started together for the first time all season. Seeing them out there, Linda about lost it. "I really thought my heart was going to bust open," she says. "A heart can only contain so much."
Frank's still has room. After the last two wins, including Redwoods' first playoff victory in its history last Friday night, he slept with the game ball. "I'm savoring every moment of this," he says, "because it's all going to end soon."
Until then, Papa G, sweet dreams.