The boys of bummer

My Crazy Son could go either way.

The good way to go — the way that will save me heaps of bail money over the next 30 years —is to channel that intensity into something positive. Hopefully the rampant screams, kicks, throws and grunts that are flung my way each and every day will turn into gritty determination on the hardwoord, devoted work in business and dogged efforts as a dad.

Think Nolan Ryan. Now there's a guy who had strong ethics but also would have put his grandmother in the dirt if she had crowded the plate. Ask Robin Ventura, who was the impetus for the phrase "nuggie punch" entering the American sports fan lexicon.

The other way for CS to go — the way that leave me reaching for the Maalox — is the way of the sluggard. We all know this dude. He's lazy in everything except drinking, watching porn and trashing people. He makes fun of guys who he was more popular than in high school — before he gained 40 pounds of fat and 250 pounds of despondence. He mocks family guys in public, then wrings out his tear-soaked sheets every morning.

Think David Wells — or, for that matter, the guy who's watching one of the "Saw" movies with his 12-year-old son right  as we speak.

CS could go either way. Too bad I can't keep him at 21 months forever.