While not terribly big, my father was nevertheless a super-stud athlete at his high school in Fresno, California during the mid-1950s. Captain of the football team (he played end on both sides of the ball), member of the track, field, diving, swimming, and basketball teams, he was popular enough to be voted president of the class of `56. And he was good enough, despite being only 145 pounds, to earn a football scholarship to Redding College in northern California, although he would soon lose it in a gambling scandal. True.
So you’d think I grew up in a household that paid attention to sports and that I learned it all from at my father’s knee.
Quite to the contrary, not only didn’t the old man watch sports, he didn’t even understand the appeal. To him, sports were something to do, not something you watch other people do. I think he looked at it like drinking: he liked drinking, especially with others and alone if need be, but why on earth would he turn on the TV to watch someone else drink? Or drive across the city and pay for parking and admission to watch people drink. It didn’t make any sense to him. Read more »