Life Goes On as Usual for Careys of Seal Beach
You might have heard college recruiters are so eager to sign Los Alamitos quarterback Tim Carey, they’re now bungee jumping off goal posts just to gain his attention.
Yes, the Carey craze rages on. Though two local citizens came forward yesterday calling for an end to the hysteria. Tommy Carey, 12, and his 7-year-old sister, Megan, charged that the scouting reports on their now-famous big brother are, in fact, replete with inaccuracies.
Or, as they put it, kinda lame-o .
For example, the scouts give Carey high marks on his timing. Tommy can’t believe this. What kind of timing do you have, Tommy asks, when you start jamming Jimi Hendrix riffs on your electric guitar the minute your kid brother goes to bed?
And toughness? Oh sure, Megan says. You should see Tim try to gag down those protein shakes Dad makes him every night. Two sips, and he quits. What a wimp!
What about teamwork? Scouts say Tim Carey is the quintessential--er, total--team player, isn’t that right kids? (We pause for a moment while Tommy and Megan crack up.) Teamwork? they say. Come over on a Saturday. Watch us do all the chores while Tim snoozes the day away on the sofa. . . .
Actually, Tommy and Megan are quite proud of their brother. They’re just not going to kiss up to him like those college coaches do. Besides, they know the real Tim Carey, the Tim under the helmet, jersey and pads. The Tim who teaches his younger brother to surf, who plays “Little Mermaid” songs for his little sister on his guitar, who asks to discuss something other than football, please, when the family sits down for dinner.
It’s not a difficult request, really. The Careys of Seal Beach are quite a happening bunch.
Tommy, a straight-A student, is playing flag football and winter league baseball. He’s working on his golf game, and wants to be a scary rabbit for Halloween. Megan, just learning to read, recently scored her first goal for the Pink Panthers soccer team. She chipped her tooth roller-skating, and is taking up gymnastics. And Ariel the Hamster? Once again, it chewed through its cage, climbed the stairs and managed to fall into the bathtub.
It’s no wonder days go by before Tim suddenly remembers to tell his parents that, oh yeah, Bill Walsh called.
When it comes to recruiting, Tim’s as low key as a lug nut. His father, who calls himself Big Tim (even though he’s quite a bit shorter), says that attitude’s great, but it would be nice to know more what his son is thinking. Especially when, as a captain of an 800-foot cargo ship, he’s at sea nearly half the year. He says he’s trying to arrange his work schedule so he can be home for both the Southern Section championships and national signing day. That, Big Tim says, would be a big, big thrill.
Besides the eternal ringing of the telephone, the hoopla hasn’t changed the Carey household much. It’s pretty much the way it has been: Tim shares a room with Tommy, takes him to college football games, helps him with his homework. Oh those tricky exponents , Tim will say, yeah I sure had a tough time with those too.
Sure, there have been moments when Tommy wanted to kick his brother in his long bony shins. Like that neighborhood Wiffle Ball home-run contest. Tim wouldn’t give Tommy a try. Or the time Tim refused to clean up his side of the bedroom.
“We can’t go out and play till it’s clean,” Tommy says.
But it’s good times mostly. Trading baseball cards, watching “Baywatch” on their bedroom TV, jumping off the second-story balcony into the back-yard pool--then offering their best innocent act when Mom asks how the carpet got so wet.
Megan doesn’t go for such foolishness. She likes to curl up with her big brother on the couch, beg him to watch “101 Dalmatians” for the 101st time. Sometimes she’ll practice her cheerleading as he whacks tennis balls against the garage door. Megan says she knows her brother is famous, she even reads about him in the newspapers.
“Well, I mostly look at the pictures,” she says, chewing thoughtfully on her lacy cotton shirt sleeve. “I read them too! But I skip the words I don’t know.”
Tommy checks the papers, too, though he reads the stories a bit more carefully. Hey Tim, he’ll say, it says here you got sacked four times. What’s the deal? And you threw how many interceptions? Wow! And, hey, look at. . . .
If Tommy doesn’t end up face down in his Froot Loops, his good morning quarterback analysis is usually snuffed by a growl. A big brother can’t let a little brother get too cocky, you know. Same goes for the family pancake-eating contests--Tim’s still got Tommy beat.
But give it a year. Things will change. With Tim off to college, there will be fewer piggy-back rides, fewer late-night chats, one less reason to hide the Halloween candy.
“Well,” Tommy says hopefully, “I can always watch my brother on TV. Plus, I’ll finally have my own room.”
And reason to jam to his very own tune.
