Great stuff. My dad wasn't a sports guy and I know he always wished I was more open with him on all the big life stuff--and I generally refused. It was because he was stuck between old school authoritarian parenting and the modern touchy-feely model. Made frank communication difficult. I hope to have a better connection with my kids while maintaining appropriate fatherliness.
Doc, Curious if you and your kids share your innermost feelings with each other. My father passed away when I was 3 so no dialog there. I know what you mean about the seen not heard generation. I like to think that I can talk to my adult kids about my true feelings but it always seems to be awkward. Seems like there should be a manual to have these type of discussions with the important people in your life.
My top dad memory when he and I were at Riverfront for Reds-Orioles game in 1970 WS when Carbo was called out on a close play at the plate. Later we learned that Elrod Hendricks made the tag with his empty glove while holding the ball in his other hand. Between that play and Brooks Robinson posing as a double for Kirby Vacuum Sweeper, it was a downer that the Reds great season didn’t end as WS champs!
Reading stories like yours are so neat. I never had a dad which made me want to be the best dad I could be. I was blessed to be able to make almost every basketball game of my daughter and even coached my sons teams. I will always say I would rather watch my kids play sports than go to any pro game. I do recall taking my kids to the Red's games and spending most of the time standing in the concession stand. :) Seeing my daughter get recruited and seeing her hard work pay off was special. Sports...it has always played a part in our household.
Feb 12, 2023·edited Sep 18, 2023Liked by Paul Daugherty
I just found myself standing in the green seats at Riverfront Stadium back in January '89. I was a high school senior and I'll never forget spending that season at the Jungle with my father. I'll also never forget going with my dad to Super Bowl XXIII in Miami just a couple weeks later. Thanks for that trip back, I miss my dad.
Paul, I know this is a morning column/blog/flow, but is often afternoon or evening before my schedule goes from relatively slow to very slow. I look forward to the read. The relationship between father and son can be quite wonderful, reference the Daugherty's father-son trips, but also can be a balancing act between dependent and independence. I had the opposite experience as you. Everything my father thought instantly came out his mouth. He was a social magnate, full of warmth and humor and beloved by nearly everyone. He was the kindest, gentlest ex marine you will ever find. I spent most of my life chasing his person. A talented athlete, he never let me win at anything. So, at age 14 when my basketball skills made me a competitive player, I never let him win again. He went from a winner to a proud father instantly. I have numerous stories that keep him alive in my heart.
Love your stories about your dad. Adolescence is just hard. Gotta take those steps away from the nest whatever form they take. Silences can save space and face.
Sports have been a language of choice in my family. I miss that now. SIL favors baseball and I love that. My dad preferred college football and basketball. Thanksgiving weekend wealth of football games made him happy. Wasn’t around him as a teen. In his dotage that changed some. But, avoided the sticky stuff and enjoyed the actual sharing of spaces, newer traditions and warmth.
Pitchers and catchers report on Monday. I suspect a goodly number of people are already there.
I love the pout feeling because the Bengals are not playing tomorrow. I’ll be muttering Who Dey off and on. Realistically could be back next season. Nice place to be.
Summer of '70, I had turned 18 and graduated from high school and was waiting to start college that fall. My brother was home from the service, fulfilling his 4-year obligation. My WWII-vet Dad took us to the newly opened Riverfront stadium. Pretty decent seats for my cost-conscious pop. The beer vendor came down the aisle and my Dad said, "THREE!" Still a passage moment.
You and I are around the same age. My dad could talk about baseball, especially Reds baseball, all day. But feelings were never discussed. As an adult I had a dream that my dad died. In the dream I kept thinking "I never told him I love him". So the next day I drove to his house, told him about the dream, and said "I love you." His response? "Well." Different generation....
My Dad and me. We used to listen to all the Reds games on WLW when I was a kid. For several years, it was Grampa Shaw with stories of the '39/'40 Reds, my Dad with the Big Red Machine, and me with the late '80s Reds, waiting for my turn.
I only remember a few specifics, like the time my Dad referred to Paul O'Neil as a bum right before he hit a game winning honerun. Thereafter, every time he came to the plate as a Red and through all his success as a Yankee, we referred to him as "that bum."
I got him an autographed Paul O'Neil card for Christmas this year. He's in Cincy living with my sister and her family. I'm in Florida with mine. But we still have The Reds and we still laugh at the bum.
Sports is the glue that cemented our relationship. It opened the door to deeper conversations, deeper togetherness.
My son's are all excited about the Bengals now. Two years in a row of Sunday afternoons watching them take on and defeat most of the best of what the NFL had to offer. That's almost their whole lives.
In a few short years, we'll look back on this time and remember with Joy how amazing it was and how amazing it might be again. Maybe. A few years after that, they'll buy me a Burrow Jersey or a Votto card and tell me stories about their kids and how sports bring THEM together.
It's how this thing works. Year after decade after lifetimes.
Sports can be an excellent bridge past the unsaid, especially with fathers of a certain generation. My dad took me to Riverfront Stadium in 1973 to see The Machine. He had driven to Crosley from WV a generation earlier to see a sleeveless Big Klu, and I had become a big fan at age 9. Walking in Riverfront was the biggest thrill of my young life, I just stared at the big scoreboard and lights and colorful seats. Turns out I had a fascination with sports architecture that could have been cultivated. But instead he yelled at me for not paying close enough attention to the game and wasting time staring off into the outfield. That happened a couple more times and then we just stopped going. My behavior was never worthy of his effort. By the time I was a teenager we were too far apart, and I never got my version of Redskins games to bridge the gap. I’m happy that you did, but also a bit envious.
For my son & I, Cat Stephens, Silver Spoon is the song. I cry every time I hear it thinking about him.
Great stuff. My dad wasn't a sports guy and I know he always wished I was more open with him on all the big life stuff--and I generally refused. It was because he was stuck between old school authoritarian parenting and the modern touchy-feely model. Made frank communication difficult. I hope to have a better connection with my kids while maintaining appropriate fatherliness.
Doc, Curious if you and your kids share your innermost feelings with each other. My father passed away when I was 3 so no dialog there. I know what you mean about the seen not heard generation. I like to think that I can talk to my adult kids about my true feelings but it always seems to be awkward. Seems like there should be a manual to have these type of discussions with the important people in your life.
My top dad memory when he and I were at Riverfront for Reds-Orioles game in 1970 WS when Carbo was called out on a close play at the plate. Later we learned that Elrod Hendricks made the tag with his empty glove while holding the ball in his other hand. Between that play and Brooks Robinson posing as a double for Kirby Vacuum Sweeper, it was a downer that the Reds great season didn’t end as WS champs!
Reading stories like yours are so neat. I never had a dad which made me want to be the best dad I could be. I was blessed to be able to make almost every basketball game of my daughter and even coached my sons teams. I will always say I would rather watch my kids play sports than go to any pro game. I do recall taking my kids to the Red's games and spending most of the time standing in the concession stand. :) Seeing my daughter get recruited and seeing her hard work pay off was special. Sports...it has always played a part in our household.
I just found myself standing in the green seats at Riverfront Stadium back in January '89. I was a high school senior and I'll never forget spending that season at the Jungle with my father. I'll also never forget going with my dad to Super Bowl XXIII in Miami just a couple weeks later. Thanks for that trip back, I miss my dad.
This is why we read. This is why we're Mobsters. Nuff said.
Paul, I know this is a morning column/blog/flow, but is often afternoon or evening before my schedule goes from relatively slow to very slow. I look forward to the read. The relationship between father and son can be quite wonderful, reference the Daugherty's father-son trips, but also can be a balancing act between dependent and independence. I had the opposite experience as you. Everything my father thought instantly came out his mouth. He was a social magnate, full of warmth and humor and beloved by nearly everyone. He was the kindest, gentlest ex marine you will ever find. I spent most of my life chasing his person. A talented athlete, he never let me win at anything. So, at age 14 when my basketball skills made me a competitive player, I never let him win again. He went from a winner to a proud father instantly. I have numerous stories that keep him alive in my heart.
Wow. Beautiful stuff, Doc.
Love your stories about your dad. Adolescence is just hard. Gotta take those steps away from the nest whatever form they take. Silences can save space and face.
Sports have been a language of choice in my family. I miss that now. SIL favors baseball and I love that. My dad preferred college football and basketball. Thanksgiving weekend wealth of football games made him happy. Wasn’t around him as a teen. In his dotage that changed some. But, avoided the sticky stuff and enjoyed the actual sharing of spaces, newer traditions and warmth.
Pitchers and catchers report on Monday. I suspect a goodly number of people are already there.
I love the pout feeling because the Bengals are not playing tomorrow. I’ll be muttering Who Dey off and on. Realistically could be back next season. Nice place to be.
A couple of reasons why I read Dock: phrases such as “the quiet smile of a memory” and “language of two.”
Summer of '70, I had turned 18 and graduated from high school and was waiting to start college that fall. My brother was home from the service, fulfilling his 4-year obligation. My WWII-vet Dad took us to the newly opened Riverfront stadium. Pretty decent seats for my cost-conscious pop. The beer vendor came down the aisle and my Dad said, "THREE!" Still a passage moment.
You and I are around the same age. My dad could talk about baseball, especially Reds baseball, all day. But feelings were never discussed. As an adult I had a dream that my dad died. In the dream I kept thinking "I never told him I love him". So the next day I drove to his house, told him about the dream, and said "I love you." His response? "Well." Different generation....
My Dad and me. We used to listen to all the Reds games on WLW when I was a kid. For several years, it was Grampa Shaw with stories of the '39/'40 Reds, my Dad with the Big Red Machine, and me with the late '80s Reds, waiting for my turn.
I only remember a few specifics, like the time my Dad referred to Paul O'Neil as a bum right before he hit a game winning honerun. Thereafter, every time he came to the plate as a Red and through all his success as a Yankee, we referred to him as "that bum."
I got him an autographed Paul O'Neil card for Christmas this year. He's in Cincy living with my sister and her family. I'm in Florida with mine. But we still have The Reds and we still laugh at the bum.
Sports is the glue that cemented our relationship. It opened the door to deeper conversations, deeper togetherness.
My son's are all excited about the Bengals now. Two years in a row of Sunday afternoons watching them take on and defeat most of the best of what the NFL had to offer. That's almost their whole lives.
In a few short years, we'll look back on this time and remember with Joy how amazing it was and how amazing it might be again. Maybe. A few years after that, they'll buy me a Burrow Jersey or a Votto card and tell me stories about their kids and how sports bring THEM together.
It's how this thing works. Year after decade after lifetimes.
Sports can be an excellent bridge past the unsaid, especially with fathers of a certain generation. My dad took me to Riverfront Stadium in 1973 to see The Machine. He had driven to Crosley from WV a generation earlier to see a sleeveless Big Klu, and I had become a big fan at age 9. Walking in Riverfront was the biggest thrill of my young life, I just stared at the big scoreboard and lights and colorful seats. Turns out I had a fascination with sports architecture that could have been cultivated. But instead he yelled at me for not paying close enough attention to the game and wasting time staring off into the outfield. That happened a couple more times and then we just stopped going. My behavior was never worthy of his effort. By the time I was a teenager we were too far apart, and I never got my version of Redskins games to bridge the gap. I’m happy that you did, but also a bit envious.
Columns like this are what set you apart from the typical sportswriter hacks.