As we celebrate Father’s Day today, we’d like to take a little time to wax poetic about our dads. This is a multi-post series.
–Desiree Koh, The Runnerd: I have been a lifelong athlete, starting from the time my parents tossed me into a pool at eight months old. I was walking by my first birthday and on a tricycle soon after. I was always the kid who, when I fell, never got picked up – I had to learn to deal with the pain and struggle to get back on my feet, and now, as a runner/softball player/tennis/sports nut, realize that pulling yourself up from the ground is a great core-building exercise. But, I digress.
My dad taught me how to ride a bike when I was four, starting with the training wheels. As they loosened, one fell off and he refused to fix it back, so I had to learn how to ride with just one. Then both fell off, and he had to hold my seat from the back to keep me balanced… until I realized that he wasn’t holding it anymore and I was riding a bike on two wheels on my own. When I was 10, I started playing softball, and I still do, competitively at a club level and in tournaments. Along the way, I also swam competitively for my club, and continue to play tennis and a bunch of other sports. When my grades sucked and my school urged my parents to have me drop softball (I was the captain), my dad said that if I wanted to play softball, then I was going to play softball.
I started running in college to stay fit and completed my first triathlon and marathon in 2007. Whenever he can, my dad always comes out to my races – he is my biggest fan, and takes the worst pictures of me on his Blackberry. He loves hearing about my training updates and geeks out along with me. As the guy who put me in a pool, taught me how to cycle and showed me the finer steps of running (he used to be a 25-30-mile-a-week runner), you could say he built a triathlete out of me. He was also a soccer and rugby player and still plays badminton and works out at the gym – it’s in the genes!
I run into my dad at the gym frequently and it’s fun to work out with him side by side. Because of a soccer injury, he hasn’t been able to run for about 16 years, but recently started taking baby steps again. I would literally get down on the floor watching his form and improving it, and took him to a running store to get fitted for proper shoes. Then, we went running together, and it was one of the happiest things we ever did. I have gotten so much out of sports for almost my entire life, and it all started with a man who put me in a pool and laughed as he watched me learn how to stay afloat on my own. You could say he gave me my water wings, and let me go.
Keep reading more after the jump.
–Miriam Fernandez, A Fishy Situation and Panther Territory, @miri81: My Dad was always a sports fan, especially when it came to baseball and boxing. I was never into the boxing, but I always loved baseball. 1993 was Inauguration Year for the Florida Marlins. That was when my Dad took my Mom and me to our first MLB game ever. I was hooked. I loved to attend games with him, even though I would get upset when he would want to leave early if the Fish were losing. He didn’t have much patience for that. If the Marlins were having a losing streak, my Dad would call me the jinx because I was always at games. He was just a jokester like that. My Dad is no longer with us. But I always think of the good times I had with him at baseball games, or just chatting with him about the Marlins. My blog, “A Fishy Situationâ€, is dedicated to his memory.
–Tamara Rinehart, @FluffySubucni13:After my dad retired from the military and we moved from Spain to the US, we would always make a pit stop to my grandparents’ house. The only thing on the TV was ESPN.
My dad’s side of the family always had certain teams they grew up watching. When you watched college sports, it was always the Iowa Hawkeyes. Basketball was the Lakers, Football was always the Bears and baseball was basically anybody but the Chicago Cubs, although technically they always rooted for the STL Cardinals. However I grew up watching the less popular sports. I grew up watching soccer, basketball, and hockey. Weird combination, I know, but hey there is hockey in Spain!
To this day, the only conversations I have with my dad’s family is sports. Though we all liked different sports or I went “against the family” and liked teams outside of their comfort zone like the NY Jets, Boston Red Sox, and Boston Celtics, they always supported my love for the “less known” sports. They all taught me that as long as you’re passionate about your teams, even if they have horrible losing streaks or are in the bottom of the standings, then that makes you a true sports fan. My grandpa always said, “Being a sports fan is like being in a crazy, emotional marriage. No matter what happens, if they piss you off or let you down, at the end of the day you can look back and say that you never lost hope.”
–Emily Miklasevich, Steel City Blitz: It all started with a plastic Pirates batting helmet and a wiffle ball set. I have fond memories of playing wiffle ball with my dad and younger brother out in the backyard. I didn’t understand the rules, but I had a cool helmet and got to hit things.
My dad took me to see the Colorado Springs Sky Sox for my first baseball game. I still didn’t understand the rules, but that was okay. I got to wear a cool hat and spend time with my dad.
In the early ‘90s, my dad was stationed in Korea for a year. When he came home, I was determined to spend as much time with him as I could and decided to do so through baseball.
My cunning plan worked. We played wiffle ball together. We watched games on TV. I learned the rules of the game and played with the neighborhood kids just so I could tell him about those games when he got home from work. We watched “Field of Dreams†and “The Natural†together. When I fell out of a tree and broke my leg, he drew logos of different teams on my cast.
So, thanks Dad for giving me that first Pirates helmet. Thanks for buying me countless packs of cards and taking me to card shows so I could get just one more Ryne Sandberg or Mark Grace card. Thank you for dealing with the hassle of driving down to Cincinnati just so I could see Ryne Sandberg play. And thanks for coming with me to Dragons games. Happy Father’s Day, Dad!
