Here's to you, Mom and Dad

My parents celebrated 38 years of wedded bliss today. Aside from all the good things that has happened to them, and all that I and my siblings are grateful for, I'd like to speak of one specific gift that continues to reward day in and day out: a passion for sports.

My dad grew up in the 1950's, and played neighborhood pick-up games in the back alleys in northwest Detroit. He was always his favorite Tiger: George Kell. Not only did he get to see him play, but later, as a broadcaster, Dad got to hear George tell all the stories from his playing days, which my dad of course would share with me. He filled me in on what it was like to take the bus down to the corner, and watch 'em play two. Somehow, today, having Rod Allen do commentary just doesn't cut it for me.

My dad was also crazy about his Wings, who gave the city much to cheer about during his early youth. Like many, he loved #9, but was partial to several Red Wing heroes. Hearing him describe getting a standing room only seat at the old barn, Olympia, and watching them skating round in their home reds, was something special. My dad loved the Lions, and to a lesser extent, the Pistons. But clearly the Tigers and Red Wings were at the center of his sports universe.

I am grateful to my dad, for having the passion for sports, and for cultivating that passion in me. I believe there is great value in sports, teaching the lessons of teamwork, patience, hard work, and the value of measuring oneself with wins & losses. To know the pain of defeat provides the joy in victory. Sports teaches us to appreciate what it takes to succeed, and those lessons are translatable to our everyday lives. I am also gratfeul to my dad for sharing his passion, so that, even during times when we did not see eye to eye, and could barely speak without a fight, we could still sit down and talk about the season, who was doing well, what changes needed to be made, what strategy worked, and what players had to go. My mom, in her understated way, developed an appreciation for sports, could carry her own in a discussion, and was often one of the boys when we sat and watched. I am grateful to her for recognizing the value of sports, encouraging our ballplaying, and more importantly, recognizing the value of the male bonding experience. My mom often took one for the team, staying at home on a Sunday afternoon with the little ones while my dad and I headed down to Michigan and Trumbull.

We got cable in 1983, and life for me couldn't have been better. I was at the clincher game in 1984, the last game at Tiger Stadium in 1999, and of course, watched Gibby's 1988 homer live with my Dad on a Saturday night in October. I was recently visiting him and Fox Sports Net was doing a special on the home run. We'd seen the program at least a half-dozen times over the past couple of years. But we were still glued to the set, seeing, if Gibby could muster the strength one last time.

I can watch just about any sport at any time, and would pass it up for just about anything. NHL, NBA, MLB, NFL NCAA basketball, football, and hockey. Nascar, motorcross, strongmen competitions, boxing, live events, taped events. Especially anything played on ESPN Classic. Flutie's hail mary--wouldn't miss it for the world. Gibby's HR--see above. Any Bo Jackson, Dr. J, MJ, Gretzky highlight, I am there. I have an audiotape of the greatest home run calls of all time, a VHS of the best of Probert and Kocur. In short, I live and breathe sports. You want stats, i love stats! I learned math and the value of numbers paying attention to player's stats.

I continue to enjoy sports for the memories, nostalgia, values, and human connection. It is one of the best gifts a father can pass on to his son, and I hope to be able to continue that with my own.