The truth is I’ve never really been a daddy’s girl. Even ask the man himself. I’ve always devoted more time to my mother simply because my dad and I drive each other crazy. We have the same personalities, which in hindsight I have found to be a blessing.
If I could describe my dad in one word, it would be football. Now I know that doesn’t really make sense, but it makes sense to me. Since before I was even born, my dad has been immersed in the football world whether it be playing, watching, or coaching. I was raised with the impression that football was its own religion. Church was on Saturdays, the bible was a playbook, and communion was hot wings and Coors.
I know baseball is considered America’s sport, but there’s something to be said about football. Being raised by a football fanatic himself has had a substantial impact on who I am today. Yes, my love for the SEC and offensive line can be attributed to this, but it doesn’t stop there.
First, he has taught me devotion. A great example of this is his love for the CU Buffs. If you live in Colorado, you pretty much know that the University of Colorado Boulder has had a rough go in the football department. Through all of the fumbles, flags, and fouls, Dad has stuck by their side. I have come to learn that devotion is a key to life. Not only does it live in the form of superstitions, it is the driving force in relationships, education, jobs--basically every component of our lives. If you want to achieve something, you have to have devotion. You have to exert commitment. Something so small has taught me something so big.
Second, his love for the game has shown me passion. I have seen it in many forms. I’ve seen it in the glory frolic through the living room as a response to a complete pass and a stomp of the foot when there’s a break in the offensive line. Whether my dad’s reactions are positive or negative, there’s no doubt they’re done in the name of love for the game. I’ve also recognized it in his thirty-year dedication to announcing, football camps, practices, and so many more facets of football. Dad, without this perfect illustration of passion’s never-ending existence, I wouldn’t know to give my one hundred percent. I wouldn’t understand that passion comes in all different shapes, sizes, and, well, colorful words. Thank you for breaking that stereotype!
Finally, his love for the game has taught me to be competitive. Football and competition go hand in hand. In our house, smack talking happens before every rival game and bets are reserved for only the most anticipated match-ups. Dad, if you’re reading this, you know I am one stubborn, competitive lady and I have to point out to you that it’s your doing. The competitive nature I was raised in has shown me that I am capable of a lot more than I think. I have to win, and that only pushes me farther.
With a root beer in hand, mascot stickers on my face, and an oversized jersey down to my knees, I learned some pretty great things about life. I didn’t realize it then, but now it is crystal clear. Thanks to his angry coach voice, playing catch in the backyard, and well educated commentary that never made sense to me, I can say that I’m a spitting image of my dad complete with a hint of devotion, a touch of passion, a lot of competitiveness, and an extra appreciation for jalapeno poppers. I simply wouldn’t have it any other way.
