Happy Birthday Dad

In honor of my dad’s birthday, I wanted to write a post that highlights just how influential my dad was in my development as an athlete, and an individual. My dad grew up in Los Angeles, which meant that he was a Dodger’s fan by default, although his heart always has belonged to the Boston Red Sox. On the gridiron, he would tell me stories about the LA Rams, although they were few and far between. Again, his true passion took him to New England and we’d rush home from church on Sundays if there was even a remote chance that the Patriots would be playing a game on TV. My dad never talked too much about basketball, although he is the one who got me excited for the college season, especially in March during the playoffs.

As an individual, he taught me the importance and value of hard work. Whether it was mowing the lawn or taking practice cuts off the tee in the backyard, he always encouraged me to do my best, and I’m better for it. He taught me about respect, on and off the field, to respect my elders and my peers in all aspects of life. He taught me how to stand up for myself on the field and in life. And lastly he taught me about loyalty, both to my teammates and to my daily responsibilities. My dad was always there to push me towards greatness and to lend an ear or a shoulder if I ever came up short. My dad is without a doubt the most amazing man in the world.

My dad taught me how to keep a scorebook, but also that scorebooks don’t mean anything if you don’t play with character. He taught me the fundamentals of sports and of life, but also dared me to take a creative, unique approach to every endeavor. He taught me that being the best doesn’t necessarily mean that you have the most talent, but that you have the most heart. He taught me how to be scrappy, classy, and humble. He taught me how to drag bunt, how to dribble and bat left handed, how to throw a forkball and a changeup, and how to pay attention to the details. He taught me about setting my pitches, when to dance around the strike zone and when to go after hitters. He taught me how to throw spirals and read defenses and how to keep my pads low and take on the fullback. He taught me that it didn’t matter if I was just a scrawny 120 pound sophomore, because I could play varsity football and excel.

He taught me how to have a plan for everything, and a backup plan to turn to if things got rough. He taught me how to respect women, and how to persevere through adversity. My dad taught me how to know the difference between right and wrong, and had patience to guide me when I messed up. Even though it was difficult to see as a stubborn child, my dad was the most loving, patient, intelligent man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and for that I am thankful to the point of tears.

Happy Birthday Dad. Thanks for everything you’ve taught me.