My Dad passed away on Sunday. He was 88. We lived together nearly all of my 54 years and there’s a void I don’t begin to know how I’ll ever fill.
But this isn’t about that. Dad loved sports. He grew up dirt poor on a little farm outside Leasburg and was a fastpitch softball pitcher in both high school and the army while serving in Japan and, thanks to KMOX, loved the Cardinals, Stan Musial and Bob Gibson. A romantic date for my dad were two seats at Sportsman’s Park to watch the Cards play…but he sprung for the popcorn. Must’ve worked; he and mom were married almost 64 years.
Dad worked second shift and side jobs and money was tight. Going to a game was a big commitment of time and money. We went to a Big Red game in the 70’s with seats two rows from the top…Bob Uecker had nothing on us; they lost and we nearly froze to death. And always a ballgame or two on a Sunday (“bring your own peanuts if you want something to eat”). We both loved Willie McGee.
My sister was a freshman at Mizzou in 1980 and dad scored 40 yard line seats about 30 yards back; best tickets we ever had. We were ahead at half time, but I remember him telling me to watch out, Joe Paterno makes great halftime adjustments. We lost 29-21. I was 13 and am sure the game was great, but I had binoculars and discovered the “Golden Girls” was a thing. I left that day amazed that that many beautiful girls could exist in such a small place.
I broke my neck in 1986 and everything changed, but sports remained the thing we still had in common and could talk about. The Cardinals and the Tigers and the Blues and the Big Red and then the Rams kept playing and my paralysis and his heart problems would fade away for a while as we discussed who should be fired and when. As I recall, only Norm and Whitey survived. This message board had nothing on my dad in the middle of a game. Odd for an otherwise quiet, gentle man. We made it to several Mizzou football and basketball games over the years and always had a good time.
As he got older and slower, playing the ponies, Nascar and the Tour de France became staples, as well; the Tour because could see the Alps and the Pyrenees he’d always wanted to visit.
Congestive heart failure gets everyone in the end and he was more than ready to go. Shocking he had no desire to see how Mizzou’s season turned out. Thankfully, morphine was there to speed things along and the end was welcomed by all, especially him. He was largely out of it by Saturday night and I told him we beat Georgia. He squeezed my hand, but I’m not sure he believed me. I hope he did.
If you didn’t read all of this, I get it. To sum it up…my dad died on Sunday and I’m really going to miss him.
But this isn’t about that. Dad loved sports. He grew up dirt poor on a little farm outside Leasburg and was a fastpitch softball pitcher in both high school and the army while serving in Japan and, thanks to KMOX, loved the Cardinals, Stan Musial and Bob Gibson. A romantic date for my dad were two seats at Sportsman’s Park to watch the Cards play…but he sprung for the popcorn. Must’ve worked; he and mom were married almost 64 years.
Dad worked second shift and side jobs and money was tight. Going to a game was a big commitment of time and money. We went to a Big Red game in the 70’s with seats two rows from the top…Bob Uecker had nothing on us; they lost and we nearly froze to death. And always a ballgame or two on a Sunday (“bring your own peanuts if you want something to eat”). We both loved Willie McGee.
My sister was a freshman at Mizzou in 1980 and dad scored 40 yard line seats about 30 yards back; best tickets we ever had. We were ahead at half time, but I remember him telling me to watch out, Joe Paterno makes great halftime adjustments. We lost 29-21. I was 13 and am sure the game was great, but I had binoculars and discovered the “Golden Girls” was a thing. I left that day amazed that that many beautiful girls could exist in such a small place.
I broke my neck in 1986 and everything changed, but sports remained the thing we still had in common and could talk about. The Cardinals and the Tigers and the Blues and the Big Red and then the Rams kept playing and my paralysis and his heart problems would fade away for a while as we discussed who should be fired and when. As I recall, only Norm and Whitey survived. This message board had nothing on my dad in the middle of a game. Odd for an otherwise quiet, gentle man. We made it to several Mizzou football and basketball games over the years and always had a good time.
As he got older and slower, playing the ponies, Nascar and the Tour de France became staples, as well; the Tour because could see the Alps and the Pyrenees he’d always wanted to visit.
Congestive heart failure gets everyone in the end and he was more than ready to go. Shocking he had no desire to see how Mizzou’s season turned out. Thankfully, morphine was there to speed things along and the end was welcomed by all, especially him. He was largely out of it by Saturday night and I told him we beat Georgia. He squeezed my hand, but I’m not sure he believed me. I hope he did.
If you didn’t read all of this, I get it. To sum it up…my dad died on Sunday and I’m really going to miss him.
