It's been a year. And, not a day goes by that I don't miss my father.
On June 26, 2015, my father passed away. He was 83. He was a shell of his former self physically when he passed - age and various infirmities had taken away his strength, his endurance and, sadly, his mind given the onset of early Alzheimer's.
I miss seeing my father's eyes twinkle when seeing his grandchildren and his great granddaughter. But, selfishly, what I miss most are all of the postgame phone calls between the two of us - the calls that would come after a Kansas Jayhawk win as he would always want to dissect the game. Our calls after losses were less frequent and, if they occurred, always a few days after the fact.
My observation point in Section 10 is a legacy from my Dad. My love of sports came from his love of sports; my desire to compete came from his competitive spirit; my enjoyment at coaching kids came from his devotion to the many youth that he coached in baseball, basketball and football.
On this day - the one year anniversary of his death - I give thanks for the man he was, the impact he had on others, the enormous influence he had on his family, and the way he taught me to understand the joy of sports, the highs of winning, the lows of losing, and what it means to be a loyal fan.
Rock Chalk, Pops - I think you'd like the looks of this year's Kansas hoops squad!
Rest in peace, Dad.
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