Sack races are a lost art. They used to be littered all over bbqs, block parties, and carnivals. Then poof! Gone. While it’s a shame that kids won’t know the rush of jumping at high speeds with your entire body in a potato sack, it’s probably for the best. Those things weren’t sanitary? Each one smelled like a pooped in McDonald’s play place. Certainly wasn’t safe. Especially if I was racing. Get off the tracks or your classmates will be signing your arm for the next three months. This is the story of my best race, I was about six.
I’ve always been an athlete. I may not look it now, but even now I’m a fathlete. I was Marshawn Lynch in a potato sack. My most memorable sack race win came at the 1st birthday party for the son of a famous celebrity actor. But because I have class, I will not be name dropping my family friend.
Chazz Palminteri! It’s Chazz Palminteri. Feels good to get that off my chest. Look, I’m not famous and I’m certainly not rich. We just know the Palmenteris because my mom happened to be best friends with Chazz’ wife in high school. We’re close enough that we still get a Christmas card every year, but distant enough that I haven’t seen them since their son’s first birthday. My mom blames my father’s behavior that day for that.
I guess there’s a case to be made for it being my dad’s fault. My father, not the subtlest of fellows, immediately left the party to go buy a disposable camera the second he saw De Niro was in attendance. We have pictures from this party somewhere. It’s mostly streaky pictures of Chazz and De Niro, like my dad snapped them as he was walking by. Further down the album you can see he became more clever. Dad started strategically posing my sister and I so that various celebrities were in the background. Guess he wanted it for...proof? I don’t know he’s weird. His jokes are pretty rough too, so I do believe that he wasn’t well behaved. What I don’t believe is this is what scared the Palminteris away from my loving family. It was my athletic prowess.
When they announced the sack race I started screaming. Psyche out my opponents. My mother, because she’s an elegant woman, came over to me as I strapped in and told me to take it easy on these kids. Probably cause we stuck out or because they couldn’t afford being sued if I hospitalized a celebrity’s child. Didn’t matter, I didn’t hear her. I had tunnel vision for the finish line.
I slaughtered those brats. I wish there was slowmo footage of it. I jumped, plowed, and stiff armed my way to the winners circle. Fathers cheered, mothers screamed.
Chazz came over to me to congratulate me. I looked him dead in the eyes and said “Where’s my prize”. My mother gave me a face like I’m gunna fuck you up later. Tough shit mom, spoils of war. De Niro laughed and went “Oooh you didn’t get this man a prize?!” which sent Chazz into a panic. He told his wife he didn’t even think of a prize and how could he forget. My mom promised him I was fine and that I must have forgot my manners. I was not fine. I let him have it.
Chazz told me not to move and left in his car. Twenty minutes later he came back with a wooden basket the size of me filled with candy. A bounty fit for a king. My mom protested and it was my turn to give the “I’m gunna fuck you up later” look. My mom told me I could pick two pieces of candy. Ummm bullshit? But Chazz, the legend he is, snuck the whole basket into our trunk when we weren’t looking.
There’s no morale here. It’s just a story of me being a bad mf. The tale of how I shook down Sonny LoSpecchio for a basket of candy.
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