I am an unabashed, unapologetic fan of the Atlanta Braves. For the second year in a row, we won the National East Division, and I hope to see something like this from 1992 again:
And of course this from 1995:
One thought that I have always found interesting is that fans consider themselves as part of the team, and you can tell by the way I said “we won” earlier in this post. We are part of the team, in our hearts. I never disparage someone for loving sportsball or which team they support (though I do like to joke my favorite football team is whoever is playing the Dallas Cowboys this week).
Whoever you root for, may you and your team win so that you can experience that great emotion – unless it comes at the cost of another Atlanta Braves championship!
Growing up, my parents were two of the best people around. They got married when they were 15 and 17; they were 16 and 18 when my sister was born; they were 21 and 23 when I was born. They were great parents to my sister and me. They taught us right from wrong, and they helped lead us to become the people we are today. They were still married, still mushy, and still went on dates until my father passed away at the too young age of 45.
I remember as a child when I first began wearing glasses. I was holding my mother’s hand as I walked, and I looked down to my feet. I noticed that my feet were a lot closer to my face than normal, which caused me to think I had magically shrunk. My family members have held my hand, literally and figuratively, for as long as I can remember.
Today is the 15th anniversary of my father’s passing. I’d like to share one of the the most important lessons my father taught me as child:
My father was the most intelligent person I have known. He taught me how to play golf. This lesson has been one of the most important lessons I have ever learned. This may sound like an irrational thought, but I have fully considered this. Through golf, my father and I became friends. Spending time on the golf course allowed me to know the man I have called Dad. From golf, I learned the value of “family”.
As I remember Dad today, I remember the fun he had in life. I remember his stories, his adventures. I remember how he and Mom met. I remember the speeding tickets and the police officers asking to see what was under the hood. I remember watching the Braves with him. I remember rooting for Dale Earnheardt and Dad rooting for Jeff Gordon.
I remember Dad.
I love and miss you Dad. We think of you every day, and know you are looking at us from Heaven, encouraging us, laughing with us, and crying for us. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being Dad.
Anyone feel like playing 9 holes?