My Dad's the man

My Dad is the man...he's the man you want-on your team, as your teacher, on your side, in your family, and as part of your life. 

When my Dad's on your team, you're almost guaranteed to win.  Seriously.  If it's sports (basketball in particular), he'll work harder than anyone else out there, and in his early 60s he's still going strong.  He has several medals and trophies to prove it.  From church basketball leagues to the Senior World Games (formerly called the Senior Olympics), he's played against and with men of all ages and manages to keep up with them.  My family had the privilege of watching him play, and win a bronze medal, along with his team in the Senior World Games at Stanford University a few years ago.  Those poor college kids who volunteered to ref and keep score had no clue what they were getting themselves into!  This wasn't a bunch of geezers with walkers and canes hoping to relive a smidgen of their youths.  These were inspirational seniors-in some sports categories people were competing in their 90s-who continue to live active lifestyles and get a kick out of the competition.  If it's a board game you're playing, you definitely want my Dad on your team.  Because if he doesn't know the answer, he'll take a stab in the dark AND GET IT RIGHT.  It's ridiculous, and I'm not sure how he does it, but he somehow has all that useless (unless you're playing Trivial Pursuit) information floating around in his head and can pull it out at exactly the right moment.  You also want him on your team when you're playing cards.  He'll start the game not remembering how to play and by the end he's whipped you.  It's awful and amazing all at the same time.

When my Dad is your teacher, he has seemingly endless patience and is able to explain, slowly, clearly and concisely, what you need to know.  He was a teacher in his former life and I can only imagine how much his students loved being in his class.  He has this uncanny ability to instill confidence in you without saying a word, and allows you to practice your new skills and knowledge out without making you feel pressured or insecure.  I'm pretty sure he can teach just about anyone how to drive (just ask my friend Sarah Johnston!)  For now he's a Sunday school teacher, but I hope he gets the opportunity to teach and/or coach as a profession again someday. 

You want my Dad on your side.  He's no fair-weather fan, and once he's started cheering for you he'll never stop.  If only the Spurs knew how faithful he's been, even before they were in the NBA and were an ABA team.  He may get frustrated or angry, feel let-down or hurt, but he will never, ever give up on you.  He'll turn right around and encourage you to pick yourself up and go after it once more.  Just ask all the televisions my parents have owned over the years! The stories they could tell about him and ESPN.

I'm not sure all my Dad's family members realize what they have in him, but I hope they do.  He loves deeply and unconditionally, prays fervently, and cares much more than most people probably realize.  He's a fairly quiet man, but as my Mom says, "Still waters run deep."  This is no more true of anyone than him.  It takes a lot for him to show emotion, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it.  Even though I'm now a parent myself, I'm pretty sure he loves me more than I'll ever truly know.

No matter what role he plays, you want my Dad as part of your life.  He's funny.  Quick-witted.  Caring.  Godly.  Honest.  Patient.  Kind.  He knows more about the Bible than most people, yet he continues to study it because he wants to know more; to know God more.  My Dad is slow to anger-a trait I definitely (and unfortunately) did not inherit from him.  He works hard-and I mean hard-to do his job well.  He goes out of his way to please his employer and his customers, as well as everyone else in his life.  He's giving to a fault.  Above all else, my Dad is that person-the one that people want to know.  Even if they don't realize it because he's not outgoing enough for them to see it.  It's like he's (*humbly*-ahem) teaching his 5 grandsons to say, "Pepaw is the best!"