For My Dad

I am writing this sports column in dedication to my father. A diehard and lifelong Boston sports fan, my dad passed away two weeks ago from chemotherapy complications. He was still in the prime of his life, only 49 years old.

My father would have been ecstatic over the New England Patriots’ recent Super Bowl victory. He rarely missed a game, watching from the couch in our living room, shouting at the television much like many other fans. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that my father and this year’s Patriots squad were inexplicably tied together. Creating an analogy between a man and a football team may seem trite to some, but much of my father’s happiness was derived from his intense support of Boston professional sports.

The 2001-2002 Patriots weren’t given much of a chance at the start of this past football season. My father also wasn’t given much of a chance just over ten years ago, when his kidneys failed and his heart stopped on a business trip in 1991. My dad suffered from a rare illness known as Wagner’s disease, a condition that drastically suppresses one’s autoimmune system. Wagner’s ate away at my father’s kidneys until they finally gave out in a Chicago hotel room. Miraculously, doctors were able to regain his pulse and sustain his life in the nearby Northwestern Hospital. Though he needed two years of dialysis, a procedure where my dad was bedridden and attached to a machine for four hours, three times a week, he ultimately emerged with a kidney transplant in 1993, returning to a normal life against the odds.

This year’s Patriots were unassuming and businesslike in performance. My father was one of the most humble men I have ever known. I cannot think of a single instance when I can remember him boasting. He was reserved but lived life with a quiet passion for his family. The Pats wanted a Super Bowl. My dad wanted a good life for my mother and me. He worked full time at a job he didn’t particularly enjoy throughout his illness and dialysis treatments. Refusing to quit or go on disability, he persevered through life, never once complaining about how he felt.

This year’s Patriots came through in the clutch. My father never let me down. In fact, I would be surprised if my dad let anyone down. He didn’t promise much, but his reliability was certain. I came to my father for advice many times. Even at college, I would talk to my parents almost every day. Though I almost always began conversations by discussing sports with him, I often asked my dad for assistance, about daily stresses such as paper topics or bigger subjects like career advice. I’ve never encountered anyone whose personality was more like my own. Maybe that’s because I’m his son. It was always a pleasure to talk to him about anything, and I will sorely miss even the shortest conversations.

The Patriots may not have been the most talented team on paper, but they fought bitterly to the end. My dad was not the physically strongest or the most widely-recognized man, but his toughness and determination are unparalleled.

I will never be as courageous as my father or possess his willpower. Even at the end of his life, my dad refused to surrender. My dad lived the last weeks of his life in the Intensive Care Unit of Massachusetts General Hospital. The head surgical doctor at MGH told my family that in his 15 years of working in ICU, he had never seen anyone in my father’s condition remain alive. Yet, my father did not give up. It was only after the doctors informed us that my dad’s life would be unbearable even if he survived that we made the decision to take him off life support. Though it ripped at my heart, the decision was not hard. He had suffered enough, and to live the remainder of his life as a sickly man would have been worse than death for my dad. He was a fighter until the end.

Perhaps the only difference was the end result. The Patriots won their final game. My dad ultimately lost. He won’t have a chance to play again next year. But, his life was a giant victory, for all who knew him, and especially for me. He was and will always be my inspiration for living.

Honestly, I doubt my father’s death had any link to the Pats’ Super Bowl win this year. It’s probably just coincidence. But, I do know that while my father and I rooted for Boston sports teams together, we were always given misery in return. Once he died, the area finally received a championship. Did he will the team to victory? No one could know. But if I had a dollar and could wager it on one baseball team this year, I’d put it on the Red Sox.