I was browsing Borders bookstore earlier this week and came across the memoirs of sports journalist Christine Brennan, "Best Seat in the House." In the book, Brennan shares stories about her father and how he influenced her love of sports and ultimately, her career.
While I have not read this book, it has reminded me of my own relationship with my father and how he influenced my love of sports. He took me to my first Blackhawks hockey game when I was 11 in the era of Tony Esposito, Stan Makita and Keith Magnuson. I would sit by the radio listening to the Stanley Cup Finals between the Blackhawks and the Montreal Canadiens. I have since lost interest in the sport, but I've found others to feel passionate about, namely baseball, football, basketball and figure skating.
I remember sitting with him on Sunday afternoons watching the Bears and other NFL games. Like many other families, we celebrated the Bears' Super Bowl victory, as well as all the Bulls championships in the 90s.
My father also loved baseball. He would watch the Cub games, but deep down he was a true blue Sox fan. I went to my first Sox game when I was five. I didn't stay awake long enough to see the end of the game, and my father had to carry me inside the house when we got home.
When the Sox won the World Series last October, I thought of my father, who died in 2000 and never saw the miracle on 35th street. But I know somewhere he was smiling and celebrating with the rest of us.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.
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