Early Monday morning, July 6th, the man who introduced me to football and to the Dallas Cowboys passed away peacefully in a memory care facility in Fort Worth. He was 91. That man was my father. And he was my hero.
Sixty two years ago this October, my Dad scored two tickets to the Dallas Cowboys vs Cleveland Browns game at the Cotton Bowl. A friend he worked with was an early Cowboys season ticket holder, and he was unable to go to the game that Sunday. So Dad got the tickets and took me - a six year old first grader. And it was a memory I will never forget.
I was so excited that day, holding my Dad’s hand as we walked up the ramp to our seats near the 35 yard line on the west side of the stadium. The grass on the Cotton Bowl floor was the most beautiful green I had ever seen. The silver helmets and pants of the Cowboys’ uniforms were mesmerizing.
We arrived early enough to watch the teams do their pre-game warm-up routines. A ritual I still do to this day when go to any football game. Watching the two teams warm up always gives me a good sense of the teams‘ size, camaraderie and swagger.
I got to see the great HOF RB Jim Brown that day rush for 188 yards in a 20-14 Browns win. Cleveland went on to win the NFL championship that year, the last time they won it all. But I became a lifetime Cowboys fan that day.
In 1967, when I was 9 years old, I had my first serious sports cry when the Cowboys lost their Ice Bowl playoff game in Green Bay. I was so distraught I went outside to cry. My Dad came out to check on me and he patted me on the back gently and helped me understand that sports can mirror life with both joy and heartbreak. Winning is that much sweeter when you’ve experienced the disappointment of loss.
Over the years, my Dad took my younger brother and I to Cowboys games at Texas Stadium too. We saw one of the first games played in Texas Stadium in 1971 when the Cowboys beat the Jets (without Joe Namath) 52-10. My Dad, brother and I watched the Cowboys (on TV) win their first Super Bowl in January, 1972 when we beat the Dolphins 24-3.
I couldn’t count how many Cowboys games I watched with my Dad. We always had fun and somehow I always felt a kinship and love that was a unique bond between a son and a father. It was both safe and enlightening.
My father was a good man. He effortlessly taught his sons that Football was a metaphor of the toughness and challenge that life brings. But when we were together, we also learned that a Fathers love makes life more visible through a clearer lens. He never took sports too seriously. Another lesson he imparted.
The loss of my father is painful, even for an old man like me at 68. But the pain of loss is eased in knowing I had a wonderful father who always took the time to love his family. My love of the Cowboys started back in 1964 in the Cotton Bowl while holding my Dad’s strong hand. As the Cowboys launch another season this fall, I will be thinking of him before each kickoff.
My first sports hero was Bullet Bob Hayes, a great Cowboys player I saw play many times as a kid. His poster adorned my wall. He was certainly my first favorite Cowboys player. But actually as I reflect tonight, my first real and forever hero will always be my Dad.
May he rest in glory. Thanks Dad for everything.
Go Cowboys!
