Why being a Sports Dad matters to me
I never attended a professional Sports event until I became an adult capable of buying myself a ticket.
As far as playing organized youth Sports was concerned,well, that was for the other kids – the kids whos parents were willing to invest the time, drive to the park, toss the ball around a little, shop for gear – all that stuff.
My mom signed me up to play two seasons of rec soccer – but I hated it. Too much running. I wanted to play baseball. But Baseball was too expensive. We were barely getting by.
I grew up without a sense of team and without the bond with my father that only Sports could have provided. I hope my son will have it.
I’m a Sports Dad.
I knew even before my son was born that I wanted to be one.
I wasn’t going to let him grow up with the same regret I have.
My wife and I are, thankfully, better off than my parents were. The cost of having our kids involved in Sports pales by comparison to the cost of not doing so.
My son is eleven. He’s a middling baseball player with a fairly steady bat (he loves the game), an awkward soccer player and a promising swimmer. My daughter, who is five, is also involved in soccer and is the more natural athlete of my kids by far. I predict that she will be a track star someday. Maybe a basketball player.
I live for taking them to practices and attending their games. Nothing is more meaningful.
Maybe they will stick with sports. Maybe they won’t. I won’t push them either way. But I will die knowing that they had the opportunity to play and that they tried.
We have a ticket stub collection in a drawer beneath the television in our living room. There are nearly a hundred little peices of paper in there and each of them represent the memory of a time we spent together, cheering on our teams – live and in person.
Between Broncos, Avalanche, Nuggets and Rockies games I have spent thousands of dollars making sure that my kids are exposed to Sports. I want them to grow up as fans like me so that we will always share that connection.
I shout “Marco”. They shout “Scutaro”. We all clap for Tulo. And, on Broncos Sundays, it’s all about the dip.
On this Fathers Day I am thinking about Sports and the role they play in my life as a Dad.
