Teenage sons rebelling against their fathers is as old as
time itself. That rebellion has been
the focus of stacks of literature and endless hours of film. The subtle nuances of the father-son relationship
and what happens before or after the rebellion receives much less attention.
I can still recall the warm June evening when I first saw
the movie “Field of Dreams.” I was a
young father and was hours away from departing on my own journey into the
unknown. That movie told a story about
trusting your heart and the similarities of the relationship of the protagonist
and his father left my head spinning so fast I was nearly unable to speak the
rest of the night.
My relationship with my father, though strained in my
youth, was fine enough as an adult. When
my father’s health began to fail I flew across the country and visited him and
our time together touched my heart. My
calls to him went from nearly every week to nearly every day.
He was uneasy talking about his condition and somehow our
conversations were focused around college basketball. It was the run up to March Madness and we
both had teams to root for. To the naked eye it seemed that we were skirting
the serious issues and instead talking about nothing.
He spoke of his admiration for Tony Bennett, the coach of
UVA men’s basketball. He lauded his work
ethic, his class and his optimism. We
spoke of the contemporary winners and losers and offered our own
observations.
As his condition continued to get worse I hastily made
another trip to see him. Again we spoke
of basketball and life. We both sensed
it was the last time we would see each other.
When I had to leave to fly home I made the long drive back to the
airport in silence. In my mind I jumped back and forth across more than fifty
years of memories we had shared. I tried
to put my arms around something tangible, some pearl of wisdom that I could
hang onto so that this troubled time made sense.
I felt as though I was searching for the meaning of life
and most of the weekend had been spent talking about sports.
It was only then that I saw it all clearly.
When my hair was long and my father and I were on
opposite sides of every issue we could find, the only thing we could talk about
without getting into an argument, was sports.
We were Dodger fans back then, and aside from baseball, we followed college
sports far more than professional sports.
My whole life my dad had been talking sports to me. I had always assumed that was what he cared
about.
Yet as I drove alone in silence with tears streaming down
my cheeks and my own children grown and gone, did I realize that sports was the
metaphor he had used to teach me about life.
Fair play, hard work, respect and tolerance were all
messages that he conveyed under the guise of talking sports. The idea that the team took priority over the
individual prepared me to be a friend, husband and father. The principle of sacrifice was illustrated in
my own training that continues to this day as I compete as a master’s athlete
in cycling races. I learned to do what
was needed even if I was tired or had more enjoyable, and usually easier
options.
I recalled listening to sports talk show discuss issue of
NFL players standing or kneeling for the National Anthem. To the naked eye it looked like a dialogue
about athletes when in fact it was a conversation about racial equity. Sports
provides us with a framework that permits us to examine the issues relevant to
our lives while keeping the reality of those sensitive issues at a safe
distance enabling more honesty than we might otherwise allow ourselves.
I still find tragedy and irony in our near worship of the
men and women who excel at particular sports while we marginalize those who
dedicate their lives to the greater good of mankind. However, it would be presumptuous to assume
that athletes don’t make a difference in the lives of those who follow them.
Four generations of smoochers
We rightfully should be cautious on whom we hang the
“Hero” moniker. Yet if we step back and look for heroes and examples in the day
to day events of sports we risk far less and find much more. We learn that even those who are flawed, just
as we are, can accomplish great things.
At a time when, in the fervor of my youth, I resented
anything that my father stood for, he was wise enough to teach me about life
through the numerous illustrations sports provides us every day. That is just one of the many ways I was
blessed to have a great father.
The Lion of Green Township may have started out as a basketball legend, but in the end he was a teacher and a great father.
He left his worn out body today and I have little doubt
he is playing basketball once again.
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