Sports

A day with dad

By the

November 13, 2003


I’ve never been much of a sports fan. Ironically enough, that’s exactly why I found myself sitting in the stands of Chicago’s Soldier Field with my dad last Sunday, watching the first round of this year’s Major League Soccer playoffs.

Ever since the 2002 World Cup, I’ve nonchalantly followed American soccer, watching games on TV and attending a few matches of Washington, D.C.’s own MLS team, DC United, at RFK Stadium.

This was big news for my father, a big sports fan. Growing up, watching sports hadn’t been my thing. I preferred Sondheim to soccer and forensic tournaments to football games.

My dad, on the other hand, grew up between sporting events. School was an afterthought; basketball, baseball and hockey made life worth living. At age 12, he was the neighborhood’s best pitcher; at 20, an amateur bowler.

Knowing this, I’ve always felt in the back of my mind that I let my dad down. He gets mad at me when I say this and tells me how proud he is of me for excelling in the things I do. And I believe him, although I sometimes wish I could be the baseball player I’m sure he, at some point, hoped I might become. But then again, I remember that becoming a baseball player means that I would … play baseball. Don’t think so.

Which brings me back to Soldier Field. D.C. United made the playoffs this year, and my dad knew I was uncharacteristically excited. So he asked if I’d like to go to Chicago to see the game with him. It would be a Kodak moment, and we’d both enjoy it.

So I happily agreed, feeling somewhat like a fake for flying to see a game that many fans who were much more die-hard that I would have to miss out on.

At the stadium, I started to question my decision. My pulse quickened as Chicago Fire fans filled into the stands. “I’m crazy,” I thought, nervously glancing at the beer-bellied men next to me. There I was wearing a D.C. United jersey in the middle of some of the world’s most vicious fans-Chicagoans. D.C. United fans were outnumbered 15,000 to 30, or 500 to 1.

As a generally non-confrontational person and an unspirited sports watcher, I wasn’t in my element. I knew that each of my cheers would cause unfriendly stares directed in my direction.

My dad and I spotted D.C. United’s cheering section across the stadium, though, and quickly moved so we could cheer with like-minded fans. The fans around me were beating drums, shouting at rival fans and searing at Chicago’s players.

So I got caught up in the game with the crowd, cheering loudly alongside the other D.C. fans. I caught myself mid-cheer, realizing I was quickly becoming the sports fan I never thought I could become.

All the pieces were in place: flying an inordinate distance for a game, cheering and swearing alongside other crazy fans and ignoring the snide remarks coming from the home team.

I watched a tape of the game last night, and the cameraman even caught my dad and me in his frame. There I was on national TV, cheering on a sports team, side-by-side with my dad.


Voice Staff
The staff of The Georgetown Voice.


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