I Learned How to Be a Sports Fan from My Father

As a young child, I don't especially remember being a fan of any sport. 

There were too many other adventures for me as a child. 

But one rainy Sunday afternoon I was cooped up inside with nothing else to do, and Dizzy Dean was busy giving commentary on a baseball game when he wasn't extolling the virtues of Falstaff beer on our only TV, an old black and white set on rollers in the living room.

"Can I change the channel Dad?" I asked—though I already knew the answer.  "You can read tomorrow who won."

"Sports is not about who wins or loses as much as how they win or lose," he explained. 

"See that guy on first base?  I know he's going to try and steal second base.  The thing is, so does the pitcher and catcher, so watch.  He'll wait for just the right time when he thinks the pitcher took his eyes off him a little too soon or when he's going to throw that big curve."

"What difference does the pitch make?" I asked, now getting just a bit interested.

"A curve ball takes just a just a second more to reach the plate and that's just the edge the runner may need."  he explained.

Sure enough after a foul ball and two pitches later, off he goes.  It was a bang-bang play that was hard to tell until the camera showed the umpire waiving his arms safe. One man later with two outs, a bloop single fell in front of an on running outfielder and the base stealer made it home in what ended up being the winning run.

That was it—he had me hooked.  Over the next dozen years, he showed me the intricacy of a pulling guard, or how a play action pass froze the linebackers for just a second.  We watched games together and had just as big a contest between ourselves guessing the next plays and outcomes as the contest on the screen.

I began to see sports as I had never envisioned it before, and began seeing so many other contests going on in every play.  I saw the game now much in the same way on hears an orchestra, every person doing a different task to achieve harmony and perfection. 

I began to be a true fan, an afficianado of sports.  Where others just saw a halfback break a 50-yard run, I saw an offensive tackle make to key block 25 yards down the field and understood that it was his extra effort that made it work.

When I moved off to college and later away from home for good, I realized that my love for sports was more than watching a game, it was in sharing them with someone that I could banter, celebrate, dissect and enjoy it with.

There's not been a game, a NASCAR race, or event I've been to since leaving home that I don't miss sharing it with him.  Though now in his 80s with Altzheimer's dimming his memories, it's done nothing to dampen his love for sports. 

I'm sure the phone company loves the long-distance calls we sometimes still make during a special game, especially those that involve my beloved Crimson Tide and his Auburn Tigers.

My father is not much longer for this world, and though he won't be at my side or down the miles of telephone lines, he will be in my mind and the love of sports he instilled me with will always be with me.

For all the great fans out there, I give you a wishful request.  Enjoy the sports you love and always continue to be a fan—but don't forget to take someone else and help them become a true fan also.  They will never forget you and you will have repaid the debt you have that someone did this for you.