I was supposed
to be the boy in the family. The second
of two girls, my parents were hoping for a boy to even out the two children,
but they were happy, just the same. Eventually they had three girls, so poor Dad had
to deal with four women in the household!
When my younger sister was about 7, we adopted a puppy, male, of course,
so Dad had at least one “son”.
Although I don’t think I exhibited many
tomboyish tendencies, I did enjoy running and jumping and playing outside. My scarred knees can vouch for the many times
I scraped them after falling down on cement pavements from roller skating over
rough sidewalks or jumping off when I’d hit an uneven spot on the pogo stick. One hundred and thirty-seven was the highest
number of jumps on the pogo stick and I was quite proud.
On Sunday
afternoons when Mom was working her 4-12pm shift at the Diamond Glass Co., I
would work on my homework in the living room with Dad as he watched his beloved
Eagles football team. Due to his explanations
of the game, the team’s plays, and basically just osmosis, I learned about
professional football.
But the
football fun didn’t stop at home. After I graduated from college and moved with
my government job to Texas, I tried to be a good Eagles fan, but it was quite
difficult. Moving to the great state of
Texas, one was either (at that time) a Houston Oilers fan or a Dallas Cowboys fan. Most of my friends and colleagues were Cowboy
fans, and it was the heyday of the Cowboys, so you can see where my loyalty
moved. On the Sundays when the Cowboys
would play the Eagles, Dad and I would take turns calling each other long distance and make a
slight wager on the game. Usually it
was a $1 scratch-off lottery ticket.
Whenever my
parents would visit my husband and me in Virginia or Texas, after returning
from the airport, we would discover some Eagles item in the house, like an
Eagles refrigerator magnet. After my
husband and I returned from visiting my parents, we found Eagles cocktail
napkins in our luggage. So you can see
the fun rivalry we played. And we
returned the favor leaving Cowboys can openers or luggage tags or calendars
somewhere at their house or in their luggage.
When Dad began to
suffer his mini-heart attacks and Alzheimers was setting in, he was
hospitalized at the Coatesville Veterans Hospital, in Pennsylvania. He no longer had verbal communication skills. I visited him on several occasions, but he
had problems recognizing me, until I started to talk about football. Then his eyes would light up and he would
squeeze my hand and we’d make a bet. He
couldn’t speak, but his eyes, oh, how his eyes brightened and I knew he knew
who I was and what we were talking about.
And those few minutes I treasure.
As it happened, I
visited him one Sunday when the Eagles were playing at the old Veterans
Stadium, and I just talked and talked endlessly about the game and watched Dad,
and he kept squeezing my hand whenever I made a funny remark. A daughter just knows that she’s connecting
with her Dad.
When we got the
phone call in April of that year that Dad had passed away, I thought my world
was collapsing. I knew he was dying, but
this man was supposed to live for years and be around and watch me grow old, too. Jay and I were at the airport in Houston, TX,
waiting to board the connecting flight to PA for the funeral. An announcement was made for Randall
Cunningham to come to the gate. My ears
perked up of course, and I said to my husband, “Jay, did they really just call
for Randall Cunningham to come to this gate?
Is he on our plane”? Jay thought
he heard the same announcement but we never did see the Eagles quarterback.
Because of a
mechanical problem with our connecting aircraft, our flight was delayed and we
were just despondent because we wanted to return to PA as soon as
possible. The airline staff was aware of
our situation and although they couldn’t
re-schedule our flight, they upgraded our seats to first class. After settling in, I was just about to
finally relax a bit, when this big, tall, black athlete, with sunglasses and
earphones walks into first class. And
guess who it was? Randall Cunningham!
Now you have to
understand that Dad was an Eagles season ticket holder for many years and
Randall was his quarterback. My mouth
dropped open and I asked the flight attendant if that was really Randall. She replied, “Yes, it is and he just signed a
napkin for me”. My husband told her of
our situation and how much my Dad liked Randall and she said, “Wait, I’ll see
what I can do”. A few minutes later she
returned with a cocktail napkin, signed “To Bill Randall – Best Wishes, Randall
Cunningham”. I had held back tears for
two days before we could make the trip, but the dam burst when I was handed
that napkin which I still have. We later
learned that Randall Cunningham was in Houston for a celebrity golf
tournament sponsored by Warren Moon, his
friend and another quarterback. The
tournament was for a special charity that Warren supported.
And then there was
the Cowboy magnet that Dad had in his casket.
But he didn’t know it. I asked
the funeral director, a family friend, if we could be alone with my Dad for a
new minutes since the rest of the family had been with Dad before we
arrived. I slipped a Cowboy magnet into
Dad’s coat pocket after telling the
funeral director about our football rivalry which he thought was very
touching. And when I told Mom, she cried
and thought it was very special.
To this day, only
a few folks know the story of the “Cowboys All the Way” Super Bowl magnet in
Dad’s pocket. Of course, the Cowboys won
the Super Bowl that year, so it just seemed appropriate. Dad now has the best seat in the house for any
Super Bowl game.
Time and time
again, when January rolls around, I think of my Dad, because January is his
birth month. He would have been 89 this
year and still an Eagles fan, I’m certain.
Every February, when Super Bowl Sunday arrives, my thoughts go back
to all the innumerable Sundays that we spent talking about football, making
bets, and continuing our rivalry. Whoever
wins the Super Bowl is inconsequential.
My Dad and our shared love of football will always be a winning
combination.
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