Today was Dad's 80th birthday. We went out to lunch where we enjoyed a feast of food and memories together. The day is not even close to being over for me, but I see that Dad has already blogged about our lunch party. I thought to myself, why not? So I'm online in my basement office thinking about today, along with some extra servings of our past victories celebrated together.
Dad lives about an hour's drive from my home. Along the way I thought about all my dad has done for me over the years. He never missed a game, a concert or a play. Not only mine, but also each of my 4 children. We have pictures of Dad and Mom with each one of our kids on Grandparents' Day in Kindergarten at Mansfield Christian School. And we have photos of him with each of their graduations from high school and college - (our last college grad will actually be on this June 10th and I know Dad will be there!)
I remember many of the happy and victorious times of my life with Dad. I remember one occasion when my Dad celebrated the moment of my great 8th grade football victory. It was the first time (oh let's be honest... it was the ONLY time) in 8th grade, when I actually got to play in the football game. The bench and I had grown most fond of one another over that long, cold season. All season long... every single practice and game... I was the backup to the third string. I actually ran extra laps when all the equipment was handed out just to get a uniform and gear. None of it fit me - it was all too big. I had to bring it home for Mom to sew it so it would fit my smaller frame.
Then, in the one game all season... in the only one play of the only game in the whole season - when the score was so decidedly lopsided in our favor that nothing I could do could possibly hurt the outcome - I got my chance to play. I was to be on the kickoff return squad. I was strategically placed in the front row - far away from where any of the action was likely to be. My job, should I decide to accept it, was to block for the lucky guy in the back who would catch the ball and run with glory and gusto.
Except that this one time - in the only play I would play in the only game of my entire 8th grade season, the football was kicked poorly - so poorly it came straight to me, the back-up to the third string blocker in the front row. The football hit me squarely in the chest. I don't know if I was more surprised or the ball - it being the only time in my young football career that the ball and I had actually made our acquaintance to one another. The ball bounced from my chest to the ground and right back up into my arms, whereupon I commenced to run for my life.
Up until that moment in my life, I had liked being the center of attention. I know this well because I still have my Kindergarten report card when my teacher wrote to my parents, "Mark likes being the center of attention." However, at that one moment when every player on the field was heading straight for me... well, I didn't care so much for being the center of everyone's attention.
When the pile came off me and I stood up, remarkably I still held the ball. And, miracle of miracles, I had managed to run 10 yards... in the right direction even. My glory moment had arrived and ended. Never again in the next five years of my high school football career would I ever again be a ball carrier. But I did have that one moment of glory.
And Dad was there to celebrate it with me. At the end of the season, when the team held its celebratory awards banquet, the coaches passed out a stats sheet. And guess what? Mark Pierce averaged more yards per carry than any other ball carrier. That's right. No one else on the entire squad - in any of those top echelons of strings so important back in August when they were passing out the equipment and the uniforms - had managed to average 10 yards per carry!
Dad never lets me forget my great 8th grade victory. I don't forget. I remember. I remember in that one moment of my greatest 8th grade victory, my dad was there to share it with me. That was forty-one years ago. So today on Dad's 80th birthday I say, "Thanks Dad. And Happy 80th Birthday!"
Recent Comments