The first professional athlete I met was Wes Unseld, center for the Baltimore Bullets. I was a 4 year old going to see a play with my dad at the Morris Mechanic Theater in Baltimore. The fact that I immediately recognized Wes is a testament to the thorough sports education my dad had already been giving me at that young age.
Being a 70s kid in Baltimore meant being witness to top level sports teams. The Bullets were one of the better NBA teams, the Orioles had hall of famers and won championships and the Baltimore Colts occasionally were good as well.
The first pro sporting event I attended featured the Baltimore Orioles and my favorite player Frank Robinson. That experience, again at the age of 4, furthered my interest and obsession with Baltimore teams & sports in general. My family went to Orioles, Bullets & Colts games, watched on tv and listened on the radio when there were coverage blackouts. Ours was a sports household.
My dad and I also spent countless hours playing home run derby in our back yard and at the nearby playground. We played one on one hoops and catch football with our big dog who'd learned the art of tackling.
Even though sports played a huge part, academics came first. I had to make the grades in order to make the plays. During my elementary school years, my dad added extra incentives. I got a pack of Topps sports cards from the local convenience store for each A grade I got on any quiz or test. Fortunately I was a smart kid so I got lots of cards. We still laugh about 1976 when I got 9 of the same Bobby Bonds cards. All those As gone to waste on the same damn face.
Our love of sports extended well beyond Baltimore. We took yearly family vacations to Canada, Colorado, and the mountains of Washington & Oregon. In between sightseeing and hiking, my parents made plans for us to go see local sporting events. We saw the Expos in Montreal, the Seattle Sounders soccer team & even 2 rodeos in Colorado Springs.
In 1977, we went to a preseason football game in Denver featuring the Broncos and the St. Louis Cardinals. The game was a field goal fest with the Broncos winning 15-7. The real fun came on the flight back back east when Cardinals' offensive lineman Conrad Dobler was sitting across the aisle from me.
Dobler was the meanest, nastiest, dirtiest player in the NFL. Sitting on the plane with his massive frame & cocked eyebrows, he didn't exactly seem like the most approachable guy. Regardless, my dad encouraged me to ask for his autograph. Dobler couldn't have been a nicer guy and he even turned around to look for me to say goodbye as he got off the plane. Maybe that's when I started liking players who utilize tactics that some perceive as dirty.
A deeper level of fun started when I was old enough to go my own way with which teams I liked. When the Bullets left Baltimore, I became a Celtics fan because green was my favorite color and I liked Jo Jo White. When the 80s arrived, I was a proud Celtics fan with Bird, Parrish & McHale leading the way.
My dad follows various players and Magic was his main guy back then. The 80s was a decade filled with heated familial rivalry as each of us took turns gloating over championships.
In the years since those battles, we've continued to share our passion for sports. We celebrate the Ravens & Terps while we commiserate over the sad state of the Orioles. Baltimore's lack of an NBA team means we both float & choose who we like among the league's talent. He's an MJ/Kobe type guy while I'm a Rodman/Artest type guy.
Today I celebrate my dad. Thanks for all the times we played together, all the action we've watched together, all the debates we've shared (like how Ron Artest really would make the Lakers better- told you so), and all of the celebrations of exciting plays we've enjoyed together.
Happy Father's Day.
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