ben wakeman : : Journal

Dad's Best Game...

December 19, 2005

Ever since I can remember my Dad has loved sports. My earliest memories are all related to sports in some way. In the winter it was basketball with Dr. J and the Seventy-Sixers, in the Spring it was baseball and in the Fall football ruled our world. We were Miami Dolphins fans. My older brother Hans and I will always remember the Christmas of 1975 when we received Miami Dolphins uniforms we had picked out months before in the Sears catalog. Before I ever had designs on playing the guitar, I wanted to be Larry Csonka, number 39.

I played up through high school, but eventually, I strayed from the flock and became less enamoured by the whole thing. Since then, my Dad's never so much as mentioned it to me or tried to bring me back into the fold. He's supported my musical endeavors and brags about me endlessly to strangers in elevators and checkout lines. But, early last week he reached back across the years and pulled me back into the game. You see, my alma mater and the heart and soul of my hometown, Appalachian State University was poised to play in the National Championship game for the first time in the school's history. Dad wanted us to go.

From the sound of his voice on the phone, I knew there was no way I could deprive him of this. Hans and I battled the hellish traffic Friday afternoon and drove up to Chattanooga. When we arrived at the hotel, Dad had layed out on the bed ASU sweatshirts, hats, bumper stickers and license plates for each of us. He had been there since 3 o'clock and he was psyched to put it mildly. We swallowed some dinner down at the bar in the hotel and headed over to the stadium which held a record 22,000 screaming fans who seemed undaunted by the 34 degree temperatures --- though in fairness many of these folks were from the University of Northern Iowa, so 34 was balmy.

The games was not much to write home about until the last half when Appalachian put the great Richie Williams in. The all-american quarterback was injured in the last game and probably should not have been playing at all, but he was a senior, and this was the national championship, and realistically, this may very well have been the last time he would ever get to play football. He, like many division 1 AA players is a big fish in a small pond and is unlikely to ever see the Pros, mainly because of his small stature.

When he came onto the field, everything changed. He led the team, throwing his bullet passes again and again to receivers who had no choice but to catch the ball if they were lucky (or unlucky) enough to be in front of it. In the end, the Mountaineers took the game 21 to 16, made history for the school and made my Dad a very happy man.

Being with my Dad at a game after all these years was wonderful. It reconnected me with something in childhood that was always so easy and comfortable --- like my Dad. No matter how difficult things are, these are two words that could always describe my Dad. Being there with him, I was able to see myself as the boy I was when we would watch the very same team play back in Boone. But I was also able to project myself into the future, and God-willing, share a night like this with my boys when I am old and gray. As much as the night meant to me, I know it meant 10-fold to him.

After the game we had white-russians in the bar of the hotel and laughed about our shared memories, our work and the other routine things that men talk about. One day I hope to be half the man my Dad is, with his humbleness, easy smile and generous way with everyone he meets. As a footnote though, let it be known that I don't inherit the God-awful snoring that he and my brother have both mastered! I don't think I slept a cozy 5 minutes that night in the hotel room. You try sharing a small queen bed with your 6'4" brother sometime.