In a short while, I will head to the open road. My first stop will be a visit with my dad on this Father's Day. He is now retired and suffering from the sort of memory loss that allows him to remember his college champion football team, but not what he had this morning for breakfast.
In my mind's eye, he will always be the guy who picked me up on his shoulders to get a better look at the holiday parade or gave me a boost to put an ornament on the Christmas tree. Maybe that's what a father really does - provides the lift we need to rise to life's challenges. Looking back at the days of my youth, I know that I have a great deal to be thankful for.
Of course, my dad was the person that introduced me to the game of baseball. He would tell stories of playing against future Major Leaguers when they were all in high school although I never recognized the names. He showed me how to throw the knuckle curve, which led to a broken basement window or two when I couldn't control the ball with a pint-sized pitching hand. But most of all, he taught me about the game, the unwritten rules of playing with intensity, but with honor, a life lesson if ever there was one.
His days of starring on the baseball diamond are over. I watched him play and then he watched me play. So many memories of winning, losing, and sharing both. I have four children of my own now and have been fortunate enough to coach them all, on the field and in the backyard. My biggest victory is that they're all still speaking to me after the experience. I hope that I taught them half of the things I learned from my dad.
Here's to all of our fathers today. Hope this day finds them enjoying the memories of teaching their kids to throw the knuckle curve.
