My dad’s love for sports isn’t deep like mine. He’s always been more passionate about music than anything else, recording and producing original songs daily on his acoustic guitar and accordion. But despite our different attitudes towards athletics, we still find ways to bond through sports by playing together as well as supporting each other from the sidelines.
I particularly associate baseball with fond family memories. When I was around six years old, my parents took me to a Detroit Tigers game. While I don’t remember anything from the game, my dad remembers me spilling ice cream on my velcro tennis shoes. Whenever he tells this story, we always end up doubled over with laughter. Growing up, my parents lived in separate houses, and the only time I got to see my dad was when he would visit my mom’s house. I eagerly awaited these visits, knowing that they might be accompanied by car rides where we would listen to Tigers games on the radio.
Even though we would occasionally spend days at the ballpark, it was ultimately in places like our car or backyard where I created some of my most important memories with my dad. We would play baseball outside with my “Dora the Explorer” bat and baseball set. One time, when I was only eight years old, I hit a home run over the fence, and the ball landed in one of the neighbor’s yards. I didn’t get in trouble, surprisingly — my dad was impressed by the power of my swing as such a young girl. From that point on, I graduated from backyard baseball, evolving to playing baseball at a driveway or a park. The location was unimportant — instead, it was the time I spent with my dad.
Our passion for sports extends beyond baseball. My ___ year of high school, I played on the varsity volleyball team. I was a team manager for most of the season, but toward the end of the season my coach put me on the roster. When it was time for my first home game, I was already bubbling with excitement.
Since my dad worked two part-time jobs to make ends meet, I didn’t expect him to be able to watch any of the remaining home games. But both of my parents surprised me that night, and I was overcome with joy when I saw them walk into the gym. It made my first home game truly memorable, despite the fact that we lost. My parents’ support meant everything to me even though they didn’t know much about volleyball. However, their lack of familiarity with the sport didn’t stop them from cheering me on.
The last sport that holds a special significance in my relationship with my dad is football. My dad, his side of the family and I always watch the Super Bowl at our house. My dad cheers for the opponent rather than the team that he wants to win because of what he calls “reverse psychology,” because the team he doesn’t cheer for always seems to win. While I don’t have any statistical proof to back that up, it’s stuck with me because I’ve always found it funny. Although I’m not a huge fan of football, this quality time spent with my family — angrily yelling at the referees on TV for a controversial call while eating snacks — has formed memories that aren’t likely to fade.
I’ve realized that, because I would rather pick up a ball than a musical instrument, it’s harder for my dad and I to connect. However, it doesn’t mean that I can’t spend time with him and create long-lasting memories. It’s these memories that make me see that our bond transcends our different hobbies. His dedication to spending time together shows me that it’s not just about the rules of sports or the score on a jumbo-sized scoreboard; it’s about the little moments including the laughs, the high-fives and talking nonstop about a specific moment during the ride home.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I hope to create more sports memories while cherishing the ones we already have.
Statement Contributor Kayla Lugo can be reached at klugo@umich.edu.
The post Beyond the scoreboard: My bonding experience with my dad appeared first on The Michigan Daily.
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