It was a high stakes game of basket ball. My cousin Joe, and I were teamed up against my Dad. The winning score was set at fifteen points. Dad had challenged us with the promise that if Joe and I won, he would take us to tour the Civil War battlefields at Gettysburg. We often played hoops out back in the driveway. Joe was living with us at the time, and we would team up against Dad. We had never won, but we had never had a prize like this to aim for. We were bound and determined to win this game. But, the situation was looking grim. Dad, couldn't seem to miss. His points were stacking up, and Joe and I had yet to score. When Dad put up the ball, and it came down through the net with a ugly swish, adding to Dad fourteen to our zero.We knew that defeat was knocking at our door. Much like the Confederacy, Gettysburg was slipping out of our grasp. But, even as defeat loomed over us, something happened to Dad's game. His shots suddenly begin to go wide. Where usually when I'd be going for the shot,and Dad would be in the way knocking the ball off course, now he seemed to be tiring and arriving to late to block Joe and I from making a basket. Dad's weariness was so great, that under normal circumstances would have been worthy of medical attention. Joe and I however were quick to take advantage of whatever sickness had overcome Dad's playing abilities, and we quickly racked up the baskets. Dads fortune was so bad that he wasn't able to score another point the whole game and we quickly won the game. Some how Dad recovered from his sickness and drove us to Gettysburg the next day. I'm sure we had fun, but I've toured Gettysburg many times since then. Now so many years later I can't really remember a single detail of that particular trip. But, I'm sure I'll remember that basketball game for the rest of my life. Dad's sickness never came back, and never since have I beat my Dad in a game of basketball. Could it have been something he ate that day? Hmm...a mystery indeed.
Note to Dad:
Thank you Dad for all the good times growing up. You never complained about fixing the tangle in your little boy's fishing line. Or when I ruined the trout fishing by falling into the steam and scaring all the fish away. You never complained when during hunting season, you drug yourself through a brier infested, half frozen swamp, trying to drive a deer my way only to find me sleeping peacefully on the other side....well maybe you complained a little on that one. But, what I'm trying to say is: Your the best Dad ever.