On the eve of Father’s Day, I reflect on the major influence my Father had on my love of sports. My Father introduced me to sports at an early age, was actively involved, took me to sporting events and even coached many of my teams. As a result, my Father influenced me in how I raised my two daughters.
Bless Me Father For I Love Sports
My eldest, Avalon, is entering high school in the fall. I have never been more proud of her than I am now. She has fought back from two serious knee injuries is arguably the best player at her summer basketball camp.
I have coached Avalon since third grade. I coached my younger daughter Faedra since first grade. I have, at most, two more years of coaching Faedra. Faedra often played on Avalon’s teams when we needed extra players. Faedra loved to play physically with the older girls and usually led her teams in fouls.
As I reflect on how proud I am of both of them, I feel some selfish sadness, in that my coaching days with them are coming to an end. Obviously, I will attend all of their games going forward, but I hate not being more involved. I know that is selfish of me. I do ask for forgiveness for that feeling.
I have taken my girls to many sporting events. We have attended games to watch the Chicago Bulls, Blackhawks, Cubs, White Sox, Bears and several local college teams. We had season tickets to the Chicago Sky, the WNBA Chicago team. Every year, we drive to Pittsburgh to see a Pittsburgh Panthers and Steelers game in a sports-packed weekend. Attending sporting events with my daughters has been a joy and privilege.
This reflection brought me back to my own Father
This reflection brought me back to my own Father. How my Father must have felt at this same point in my life. I still remember to this day when he took me to my first practice for soccer in third grade. I played goalie and won the Most Improved Player (MIP) trophy. My Dad called me MIP for quite a while. That is the only trophy I saved to this day.
I also remember when I dribbled around and through all five opposing players running out the clock in a one-point win in my first season of basketball. Mainly, I remember my Father telling others about how impressed he was that I had the game sense to keep the other team from getting the ball to seal the win.
My Father and I attended too many sporting events to count. We had season tickets the Chicago Sting, the North American Soccer League (NASL) professional soccer team. In 1981, my Father, my brother and I ran onto the field in Toronto when the Sting beat the heavily favored New York Cosmos to win the NASL Championship. The win gave Chicago the first professional sports title since the Chicago Bears won the NFL Championship game in 1963.
My Father grew up in England and is arguably one of soccer’s biggest fans and strategist. It was a natural for him to coach my travel soccer teams. He dove into the team and managed every aspect from player selection to the team name and uniform. That level of interest and dedication was never lost on me.
Once I entered high school my Father could no longer coach me. He had a three more years with my younger brother Justin. I never thought about how he must have felt until now.
Fathers have a great influence on their children
Fathers have a great influence on their children. I have so many memories of my Father and me playing sports, attending sports, talking sports and loving sports. I know that I have raised my children just like my Father raised me. I hope that one day my children think back on their childhood with similar memories to mine about how their Father influenced them in their love of sports.
