As I've talked about before, when I was a little girl, I went through a tomboy phase that had me more interested in getting muddied and scraped up while exploring in nearby creeks, and chasing bunny rabbits down old country dirt roads than wanting to play with dolls and toy kitchen sets.
I also enjoyed watching NFL games with my dad on Sunday afternoons. Though I was too young to understand the plays, I was fascinated by the game and the excitement of the crowd. Plus, some of the guys on the field were cute, so that was a bonus. At one point, I even convinced myself that when I grew up, I was going to become a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader and marry Joe Montana, just as soon as I perfected my older sisters' fashion, hair, and makeup tricks.
None of that ever happened, of course. And I grew out of the tomboy phase by my early teens. But the Sunday afternoons watching games with dad was something that continued to varying degrees for decades, with me preferring to watch games when either the Cowboys or the San Francisco 49ers were playing (Dwight Clark grew up in Charlotte), or for dad, when the Atlanta Falcons were playing (he lived for a time in the Atlanta area as a young man).
SEE ALSO (VIP): Caregiver's Diary Part 48: Missing Dad
We naturally gravitated towards the Carolina Panthers when the franchise was established in the mid-1990s, and it was around that time that I really started to pay attention to dad's penchant for calling penalties before the refs would confirm them. It amazed me how he could so easily spot a penalty when there was so much going on on the field.
When I moved out on my own, we didn't get to watch as many games together as we used to, but when I would visit on weekends here and there when the NFL season was going on, we were both parked in front of the TV, yelling over the play-calling and what we viewed as referee favoritism for the other team (hah!), and screaming when the "Cardiac Cats" pulled off an amazing play.
Absolute bull sh*t on the "offsetting penalties" crap. #CARvsATL #KeepPounding
— Sister Toldjah 💙 (@sistertoldjah) September 16, 2018
Like a lot of Panthers fans, the 15-1 season in 2015 where we went to the Super Bowl (but infamously lost) was magical, and there were times that season when - even though I wasn't at mom and dad's house - I'd call dad, or he'd call me, during a game and we'd ask each other "did you SEE THAT PLAY?"
There were also other times, I admit, that I'd be texting with female friends and family members over stuff like this. I mean, yes, I did enjoy the game itself, but again, the scenery was an added benefit. ;)
A person operating one of the cameras during this #MIAvsCAR game is obviously either a woman or a gay man because they keep panning to a sweaty Luuuuuke Kuechly on the sidelines. I'm totally okay with that.... #panthers #KeepPounding pic.twitter.com/k9lrbgByzt
— Sister Toldjah 💙 (@sistertoldjah) August 18, 2018
In any event, one of the unfortunate health issues my dad had to deal with in the last 10 or so years of his life was gradually losing his eyesight. He never completely lost it, but it got to the point that pretty much everything was blurry. And he had no peripheral vision. I'd sometimes have to tell him what was going on during the games we watched together.
Needless to say, that was immensely frustrating for him, so much so that watching any sporting event on TV was no longer enjoyable for him in part because it was a reminder of something else he could no longer do. I remember in the last full month of his life, when he was at the nursing home/physical rehab facility, I went there one Sunday afternoon to watch a Carolina Hurricanes playoff hockey game with him. A few minutes into the game, I had to switch the channel because my dad was irritated that he couldn't see any of the game action on the small TV.
Since we lost him, I've watched sports games less and less. Partly because of the wokeness forced upon professional sports and partly because it's just not the same watching these games without hearing his voice calling penalties and him urging me to make faces at the TV so the kickers for the opposing teams might miss their field goals.
The only time I really watch the NFL anymore is when the playoffs roll around. The Panthers, amazingly, made it this year, but they had to have some help from the evil Falcons, who the Panthers needed to win their last game of the season for the Cats to be able to make the playoffs.
I looked at the picture of my dad we have in the living room after the game was over, and joked that it was probably the only time I was happy to see his Falcons win (we had a long-running playful dispute over who he should root for when the division rivals played each other).
Though the Panthers didn't win their wildcard game against the Los Angeles Rams, they put up a heckuva fight, and it reminded me a little all over again of that magical 2015 season, where everything seemed to be going so perfectly for them, right down to the hilarious "Dab" that Cam Newton would do during the games.
But more than that, as I took in that game, what I thought about more than anything was how my dad would have absolutely loved seeing it as he sat on the edge of his seat, and probably would have been proud of me, too, for all the penalty calls I got right thanks to what I learned from him all those years we watched games together.
Still missing you, dad-o. So very much.
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