A tribute to the game and my father.
( Happy Father’s Day )
As I celebrate my first Happy Father’s Day after becoming a father for the first time, it brings back a flood of memories and experiences that I shared with my father. He was the one who introduced me to the world of sports.
Whether shooting hoops together on the street, braving freezing snow to record every youth football game, or laughing at the time I accidentally injured her beloved ’83 Camaro with a stray baseball during little league. He was always there, he’s the reason I find myself yelling passionately at the TV every Sunday, why I pursued my current career, and why I strive to emulate his example as a father.
When I was growing up, Dad served as my basketball coach. Despite my lack of height or strength, my skills weren’t exactly MVP-worthy. My teammates faced similar athletic challenges, making our season difficult. This isn’t really the ‘Hoosiers’ story – we lost every single game that year. But this is one of the most enjoyable basketball seasons of my life.
Dad would devote hours each week to researching plays and practices, doing his best to impart knowledge to a group of boys whose main goal in practice often seemed to be setting new records for fastest fart.
Yet he understood the essence of youth sports: to have fun. Despite our abysmal 5% success rate, he encouraged us to try the ‘Steph Curry Three’ whenever we felt motivated. His unwavering support, even when victories were rare, left a lasting impression. Dad allowed us to be who we were, and our winless season remains a fond memory.
Sports have always been a part of my relationship with my father. He took me to countless games, discussing players and statistics for hours. But most of all, he showed up.
Throughout my childhood, whether it was the football field, the basketball court, or the baseball diamond, Dad was always there. I could glance into the stands and know he was watching. They watched my ‘grand slam’ (admittedly a single with three errors, but a home run in my heart), watched me work hard in my first year of tackle football, and endured my turnover-prone basketball game. His presence taught me the importance of parental support.
Beyond sports, my decision to write for Badger of Honor stems from a desire to be present for my daughter every day. As she grows up, whether she shares my passion for sports, discovers a love of science or music, or takes up painting, I hope to have Dad’s unwavering support in every aspect of her life. will get. Many of my own sports have faded, but the memories of Dad (and Mom!) cheering from the sidelines endure.
Dad, I love you.
And Happy Father’s Day to all the fathers!
