Fathers Days is coming Sunday and I am reminded of the sports activities we shared when I was younger. I am sure we all have different stories and here is mine. It has been 21 yrs since my Dad passed away and some of the things we did I still remember like yesterday. I was one of the first to get a Satellite Dish in the early 80s to watch my favorite football team, the Packers. During those early years, the dish viewers would not break for commercials but you could hear the announcers talk among themseleves. My Dad would come over every Sunday and Monday to watch the games. DAd liked the Cowboys and I know it bothered him that I didn't. Anyway for several years the tradition remained that he would show up after church to watch games with me. During the 80s the Packers sucked pretty bad so he made it a point to rub it in every chance he go. In 1987, I moved from Louisiana to Florida so those Sunday afternoons and Monday nights would not happen again. My Dad had never been sick in his life. He had never been to the doctor, never in the hospital and never missed a day of work for anything. Then in the summer of 1988, I got the call that Dad was diagnosed with a disease some call Asbestosis. He had sprayed Asbestos at the refinery he worked his whole life early in his career. Now at 63, he was pretty sick. In September of that year, my brother called and told me I had to come back to La because Dad would not be around much longer. This was on a Saturday and I took the next flight out early Sunday morning. I flew in to Lake Charles La and my brother picked me up at the airport and we drove straight to the hospital. He had a respirator on and he could not talk. His eyes widened when he saw me walk in the room. He could not talk but his eyes told me he was so happy to see me. He was in ICU but he happened to have the TV on and it just so happened that the Packers were playing. I looked up at the TV realizing it was Green Bay and said, "Who's winning?" Since he could not talk, he just pointed at me and tapped me on the chest to let me know I was winning. I sat in that hospital room the rest of the afternoon and watched my final football game with my Dad letting him write me notes since he could not talk. He dropped off into a coma that night and died 3 days later. We never played ball together. He never came and watched my high school football games, baseball games, or basketball games like I did my kids and I do with my grandsons. But being there and watching pro football on TV in the 80s with him and on the last Sunday of his life is as memorable and special as a father and son could have. 21 yrs later, i still miss him.