Andy's Army

Wednesday, May 14, 2025

Good morning, good evening, or good night—depending on when and where you’re tuning in from.

Yesterday brought another round of golf with Tim and Bill B.—and honestly, it felt like a small win just getting out there again. As ALS keeps nudging its way into everything I do, I find myself more grateful than ever for days like this. Golf, even when it’s more chaos than control, still feels like freedom.

The swing has become a whole new beast. I’ve had to adjust just about everything—stance, grip, swing length, balance. It’s like trying to relearn something my body used to know instinctively (almost), but now it speaks a different language. Then we had to add a new element to the game: someone always ready to catch me if I tip over. One behind and one opposite. I imagine the folks in other groups watching from a distance, wondering, “What’s with the secret service agents?”

Still, these last two weeks have gone surprisingly well. I played 18 holes (spread out over two weeks, not one day!) and stayed on my feet the entire time. That’s a big win. I even saw some improvement—one swing had real lift and probably carried about 100 yards. The guys were so focused on the flight of the ball that they missed my little backward wobble. I caught myself before falling, watched the ball settle, and we broke into high fives. Honestly, I think we were more excited that I stayed upright than the shot itself.

Tim and Bill deserve a big thanks—not just for the company, but for all the behind-the-scenes help: driving me up to the green, grabbing clubs, teeing the ball, and pretending not to notice that I haven’t made a single ball mark to repair yet. Maybe next week?

Trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy and freedom isn’t easy—but with help from friends, family, and Cindy, I still get to show up for life. Sure, I’m slower and shakier, but I’m lucky. Lucky for the support, the watchful eyes, and the choreography that goes into catching me if I start to go down. Thanks for bringing this kind of closeness to my life—physically and emotionally. It means more than I can say.

On Monday, Mike H. picked me up in his ’68 convertible Mustang for a ride around the neighborhood before heading over to the Balasi house. It was a perfect day to be cruising around in this red classic pony —windows down, engine humming, and plenty of smiles and thumbs-up from everyone we passed.

Then it was just the guys, heading to the Balasi’s, hanging out under the back patio pergola. A couple of drinks (yes, only two), a good cigar, and some well-earned relaxation. It’s starting to feel like a new ritual—one that’s easygoing, familiar, and fun, as long as we keep things in moderation. And we did. It’s amazing what maturity does to keep things safe…or safer than when we were 25.

When it came time to leave, I had the choice: a smooth exit in Mark’s SUV or one more joyride in the Mustang. Of course, I chose the Mustang—even though I knew full well I’d need some serious leverage from Mike to get out of the car. Hopefully, he didn’t throw out his back doing it.

Thanks, Mike and Mark—it was another fun afternoon. Already looking forward to the next one.

Today will bring more good things—I don’t know what they’ll all be, but I’m excited to find out and to keep sharing this journey with you. Thanks for being part of it.

Have a wonderful Wednesday.

Love you guys! ❤️