When Your Team Wins...

Keller – 

There’s something you need to learn about sports, being a fan, having a dream, and how they relate to life. I love sports. I love my teams. I very much dislike watching grown men live vicariously through boys, basking in the latter's accomplishments as if it's their own. The passion starts as a child, often passed on by a parent, but what do we teach these young men and women when we spend the majority of our time discussing, watching, and worshiping the accomplishments of others as if it’s our own?

I've been thinking about this a lot recently. With the birth of any child comes the promise of our next President, CEO, super star athlete, or plumber, electrician, or truck driver. You have an opportunity to be anything you want, but the choices I make for you before you could you’re your own will dictate how your interests develop. I, like any parent, want to shelter my son from heartbreak, but disappointment is a lesson you’ll have to learn. I want you to learn it early and often - I want it to fuel you, to be the best damn whatever you want to be, and not be someone who watches from the sidelines celebrating another person's accomplishments as if you contributed to that because you wear a jersey, or go to the same school. Sure, I've jumped up and down and gone crazy after a Boston win, or a UVA three pointer to win the game as time expired because that's what we do as fans. However, those are fleeting moments of my life and in no way correlate to the success or failure I've had as my own person. I’m not telling you being a fan is something you shouldn’t be, but keep it in perspective – you’re watching others achieve and succeed; it’s not the same as your own.

I started you wearing orange and blue as soon as you were in clothes, and slapped that Boston "B" on your head as soon as we could get you in a hat that fit, but one lesson I want you to learn is that these are moments of entertainment, not life-changing events for you. You are responsible for your direction in life, if that's sports and you’re good enough - I'll live and die with every step you take on a field, court, library, classroom, or boardroom, contrary to the very heart of this letter, but you’re my son, and from the moment I put you in my arms I lived and died for you. If you’re not good enough, I hope it teaches you that hard work, dedication, and drive are the only things that will earn you a sense of accomplishment. Watching others achieve is fun, it allows us an escape for a few hours on a Saturday or Sunday, but it will never replace the feeling of doing it yourself. "Doing it" could be quantitative physics, I don't care, so long as you pour yourself into it fully and get after it. Your success is determined by you and the amount you’re willing to put into it. No fan ever raises the trophy of their team; they may be thanked, but really they’re thanking you for paying their salary or tuition.

The lesson I want my son to take away is that, nothing in this world is given to you. Anything that is, is not worth it. You're never going to win 100 percent of the time, and it's the moments that you don't that define the direction your life will take. You'll either go after it and get it, or accept that you're not good enough and quit, there is no in between. Knowing your limitations today, only mean you have something to work on tomorrow. I hope each and every time you lose, you walk away with a plan to put in 10x the effort in practice and preparation for the next chance, whether it's hitting a ball or the books. The second lesson I want you to learn is that watching someone else win, will never replace the feeling and sense of pride you receive when it's you standing on top of the mountain. What I never want for my son is to feel that others' accomplishments count as his own. This is where I get off the bandwagon, sports fans have taken this to the extreme and has caused me to lose some of the love I once had for it. I don't look down on them, I feel sad that it appears the highlight of their lives is watching others achieve, and then blame their circumstances for their position in life. So, my last hope for you, Keller, is that if it never happens for you, don’t let it be for lack of effort, you define success, your success. Your hard work, in whatever field, will pay off when the opportunity presents itself. That's called faith and it's the driving force behind commitment, that's what I want you to learn from sports.

No matter what, you're my son. Whether you're in a tie, jersey or a pair of Birkenstocks, I'm happy to watch you chase your dream.  

I love you, buddy.

You're My Gift To The World, Go Be You.

Keller –

I never knew a love, like the one I have for you, existed. I love your mom with all my heart, and we were both very excited to have you join our lives. She is more likely to express that outwardly than I, mine was more like a duck on a pond. I strive to remain stoic and calm in any situation, but I think it’s a little deeper than that. Your mom shared a physical connection with you from the time you were conceived. I could only watch you grow inside of her, and wait with anxiety of how life would change. Selfishly, I thought of things I’d give up, things she and I would not do together for the next few years. 

I was in the room the night you were born. I had my plan to stay by your mom’s side, and wait for you to be presented to us.  Your mom had some nice pain relief going on, but when the nurse came in and said it was go time, everything changed, it wasn’t chaotic, it wasn’t rehearsed. It was an experience I can only hope you have one day. It was one of the best moments of my life, and the first of yours, the first of ours, as a family. I watched you all the way into my arms, knowing the emotions I was supposed to feel, but being overcome with such an intense feeling of love and happiness that any words on this page are incapable of capturing.

I had a plan to write to you every day of your life. You’re almost two years old now and this is my first time. I’ve watched you transform into a tiny person, with your own personality, mannerisms and expressions that bring so much joy to my heart, that I’m terrified of when you lose that. You’ve been the best gift to your mother and I, and we love watching you grow. Paradoxically, we know that you’ll encounter things that are going to make you sad, question humanity, and take away the innocence and wonderment with which you view the world now.

Life is not fair. There are thousands of moms and dads that have lost their children, there are thousands of children that have lost their moms and dads. If that were to ever happen to us, as painful of an experience as that can possibly be, keep moving forward. I love you more than anything in this world, or after it. You are the best of me, take that with you and do something extraordinary. Be great. Be humble. Be you. But never let sadness overtake your will, you’re allowed your moments, let them be fleeting. You’re the best thing I know in this world, and responsible for sharing that everyone you come into contact with.

The image that remains with me is your smile, you can’t tell me you love me yet, so your smile says it to me. Know that every time you do, my heart grows a little more. I intend to write you more often, and leave you with lessons I’ve learned over the years in hopes that you don’t have to learn them the same way I did. I set out to write you these great letters, and end up crying as I think that you’ll be reading them after I’m gone. That’s okay, you were my gift to the world, you were what I was created for. My greatest pleasure in life was being your dad, and making you smile. 

I love you, buddy.