Walter Wright Thompson Father's Day Article

What a great thread, spawned by a great article.
I posted this on the subscriber's board, but I will repost it here because my dad means so much to me. I used to think all we could talk about was the Yankees, until I started going through my divorce and he rallied around me and showed he is my best friend as well as my dad - though we are suddenly talking about the Yankees more than a month ago.

Anyway, my dad has always taken an active interest in my job. He reads every story I write and loves to go to games with me, even though he lives 2,000 miles away. He makes it a point to visit my town at least once a year and schedules his visits when stuff is going on so he can go to games.
He is coming this year for the opening weekend of high school football, when he could have come at a different time, but he wanted to experience what I experience which is Texas high school football.
He also was with me the night I covered the greatest game of my life: a triple overtime state semifinal where the home team lost 37-34 in a driving snowstorm in Idaho. Nothing like your dad caring enough to be interested in your life that he will stand on a sideline for 3 hours while it snows a foot to watch a game that he has no vested interest in.

 

It was a terrific article. My dad died when I was seven and, while my mother did everything possible to minimize the loss (she played ball with my brother and I...took us to games...etc..) I wonder sometimes what it would have been like to still have him around. He liked to drink beer, as do I, so we woulda had that in common right away.

 

I knew I shouldn't have read this story (no offense, Wright).

I am very close to both my parents, but my dad and I have a really special bond. He has never failed to come through for me or be there when I needed him and to tell me exactly the right thing. He has been in poor health for many years, but has always just toughed through it with the best attitude of anyone I know. Every single day I dread the inevitable. I truly don't know how I'll be able to live without him.

 

Man, if I'd known Master Thompson was going to check in here, I probably would have gone with a little more than "God damn."

Nice work, Wright.

 

What I liked most about this story is that it wasn't about regret (like so many posthumous son-father pieces are) -- it was about love.

 

That was simply outstanding.

 

Very, very moving piece by Wright.

I had tears running down my cheeks by the middle of the story.

Now, that's writing.

I emailed a link to the piece to my father as soon as I finished. Then, I told him I loved him.

Thanks for that, Wright.

 

Happy Father's Day, everyone.

My dad and I are much closer than my mom and I, but in a different way. My dad and I bonded over sports in high school, probably the last thing any father expects from a teenage girl who gave up playing at age 9. My parents were divorced, and I lived 2000 miles away during high school, but I had the pleasure of going to college in the city where he worked.

I loved it. We'd meet every Sunday night for dinner and just talk. He'd listen to me babble about sports, shared the same obsession for detail as I do and would play random knowledge games over the chips at salsa. Who else would play "I name the capital, you name the country" with you at Poncho's Mexican Buffet? Or realign the NHL, complete with sketched map of North America, over fries at Dave & Busters?

He gives me the most useful advice of any person I know, and isn't afraid to tell me when something is a bad idea. But some of my best memories are going to games with him, wearing a jersey that fit me like a dress while his was snug around his belly. Sports are where we connected and what set up a really special relationship that I lean on a lot as I transition to making my own way.

I cried at this story. My dad's got some severe respiratory problems (some of which I inherited) that freak me out when I think too hard about them. He's going to turn 60 this year, which is way to old for me to be comfortable. His father died a year and a half ago, leaving him the patriarch of his family. I love him. And I can't wait to see him next weekend.

 

Good fucking lord, Wright. Usually I have ice-water in my veins when reading anything, but damn, I almost teared up after reading this story, and my dad is still around. Wow. Just wow.

 

My pop was the real journalist in the family -- an old-school news editor who refused to run some Watergate wire stuff because it used anonymous sources (imagine that today).

Anyway, he switched from newspapers to a trade magazine when he had to raise two punk kids by himself. Never realized what a sacrifice it was until I got into this racket -- and never understood why he did it so readily until I had a punk kid of my own.

Occasionally he'll call or e-mail and compliment me on a story. Makes me feel great.

Thanks to Wright's story, I made arrangements for us to go see his Cubs. Anyone know how I can get Andy Pafko to play in the outfield again -- like he did when my pop was a boy?

LW